


Everything Old is New Again

by ChapstickLez



Series: OWtO [4]
Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Crime, Drama, F/F, Family, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 542,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChapstickLez/pseuds/ChapstickLez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to OWtO: Youthful ambition meets experience when Gail and Holly face the next great challenge. Their daughter, the cop. The Old Guard is still there to help the new batch of rookies through the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of police work, but there are some things a rookie has to learn on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01.01 Fresh Paint

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Out With The Old," my 100 chapter marathon fic. You will be very confused if you don't read that first. If you haven't read "Old Habits Die Hard" don't worry too much, that just has some fill in stories.
> 
> While the plot line is a bit Vivian centric, Gail and Holly are still here, still working, and so are many of your old favorites. There are also some new surprises working at Fifteen, and some surprises for people who aren't. Let's find out what became of everyone, fifteen years after the end of OWtO.

Their faces were pressed into somewhat gross bar top at the Penny.

Andy McNally stood behind the bar, reading off the names from their drivers licenses. "Jenny Aronson. Christian Fuller. Rich Hanford. Vivian Peck. Lara Volk. You have the right to shut the hell up!"

The crowd laughed and her fellow rookies struggled. Not Vivian, though. Vivian had expected this. Everyone had warned her about the hazing ritual and she'd actually seen it a few times, coming to the Penny once as a child, and then a few times while in college and actually allowed to have a drink while it happened. Having it done to you was a little different. Having it done to you while your mother was shouting at her friend and training officer, Andy McNally, to search your pockets for keys was the cause for laughter.

Andy leaned over to ask the woman holding Viv down to check her pockets. A quick search later and they had her spare key from the clip on her back belt-loop. "Seriously?" Andy held the key up and the room laughed. "A universal key?"

"Told you," laughed Gail and Vivian heard Traci's familiar voice commenting that Gail had cheated her year. Vivian's key was actually a birthday present from her mother, earlier that year. "Its not cheating," Gail argued and she and Traci bickered good naturedly.

But they didn't really fight this time, not even in good faith, as Andy went on. "Okay, first person to get free gets drinks on the house. Ready. Set. Go!"

The crowd was loud and Vivian sighed. Everyone else was in a rush. She just walked over to her mother. "Give," she scowled.

"Nope, not doing it," grinned Gail, sipping her beer.

"Come on! I know you have a spare key!"

"And I know that the one they pulled from your belt wasn't the one I gave you," she countered.

"Seriously? Don't make me ask Steve." Beside Gail, Steve held his hands up and looked innocent. Viv glowered at him.

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a while and Gail finally sighed. "Fine." She reached for her belt and unclipped her own spare key from the buckle. With a cheerful grin, she clipped it to Vivian's. "Good luck."

Vivian stared down at her belt buckle. "You suck," she informed her mother, and promptly squirmed to get her hands in front.

They'd cuffed her with her palms facing each other, which made it easier to do that particular move. The lock was facing up, which was harder to unlock, but once she had her key in hand, Vivian used her teeth to turn it and tossed the cuffs in Noelle's lap.

"Winner, Vivian Peck!" Andy laughed as Noelle dangled the keys above her head.

She used her first free drinks to get a round for the other rookies, but then brought tequila over to sit with her mother. Gail was grinning. "That is now an unbroken chain of Pecks winning this one, Viv," she explained. "Even Elaine won."

"I still think you suck," growled Vivian, downing the tequila in one go while Gail did the same.

"Oh she's a Peck," laughed Traci. "Cheats and drinks tequila."

As one, Gail and Vivian shouted, "It's not cheating!"

The old guard lingered for a while more, mostly chatting it up with each other. Vivian sat with them for a while before joining some of the younger officers she'd known for a while. At ten, Gail caught up with Vivian again. "I'm headed out, kiddo. You good on your own?"

"Yeah, C said he'd drop me off." She gestured at the man with her beer. He was sitting over by their rookie class.

Gail nodded and glanced over at the other rookies. "I did not see that one coming," she sighed. "Thanks for keeping an eye out for him."

Vivian nodded. Before the academy, she'd met Christian at his father's funeral... Well. Not his father, but close enough. She always wondered why Christian hadn't taken Diaz as his surname. They'd remained in contact ever since, sharing pain that others wouldn't understand, not even Gail or Holly. Speaking of… "I wish Mom could've come."

"She'll be back tomorrow or the day after," sighed Gail. "But don't worry, I sent her the video of you uncuffing yourself."

"Awesome," Vivian laughed.

"Go hang out with your rookie class, kiddo. It'll come in handy later." They didn't hug. That still wasn't their thing except when really important. Gail tapped the beer bottle with her finger and headed out.

In an instant, Rich was at her side. "Who's that?"

"Who's what?"

"The hot Cougar you were hanging with? Rwaaaar. Both of them, actually!" He paused. "Mostly the brunette. The blonde looks like she'd kill me..."

Vivian stared at him. "Oh my god. Those are your senior officers. And they're old enough to be your mother!" One of them actually being hers. Ugh. She shoved him aside and looked for Christian. "Please God save me, C."

Smiling, Christian scooted over so Viv could sit down. "Do I want to know?"

"Rich wanted to know who the hotties were I was hanging with."

Christian looked gratifyingly horrified. "Seriously?" When she nodded, he gagged. "Rich, you're a moron. Don't call Inspector Peck a cougar."

Rich looked between Vivian, whom he knew was a Peck, and Gail, who was punching Nick in the arm before leaving. "Wait, you're related to her? Which one?"

She and Christian shared a look. He knew and he wasn't going to explain, clearly. "I'm related to both of them," sighed Vivian.

Now Christian explained, "They're both Pecks. Our Pecks. Traci Peck is the lead D for homicide and Gail Peck heads up the Major Case Squad."

As of late, Gail was also the point for all of Organized Crime for Fifteen, TwentySeven, and ThirtyFour, following a massive blowout led by Uncle Frank a couple years ago. Taking over the mess at TwentySeven had not been Gail's favorite thing. She didn't mind being the boss of all of OC in Fifteen, since that let her lord it over her brother, but the constant hassle of managing people took her away from the part of police work she loved. Traci was the Inspector of Homicide and was angling for a role with more teeth. Currently she oversaw any homicide in the three divisions, but if Steve ever made good on his threat to retire, Vivian was sure Traci would take over Guns and Gangs.

"Gail's the blonde," muttered Vivian. And yes, she would take him apart and laugh about it. But Vivian wasn't going to warn Rich. It would be more fun to watch.

Rich, the idiot, craned his neck to eye Traci, who was leaning at the bar. "And how are you related?"

"Well Rich, when two people love each other very much—" The guffaws at the table drowned her out and Vivian smiled. "There are two more in Fifteen. Steve, who heads up Guns and Gangs, and Ryan, who's quartermaster right now, but he'll go to Marine when I'm cut loose for the donut fine." As she sipped her beer, she was surprised to see most of her rookie class staring at her. "What?"

"That is the _most_ you have ever talked about yourself, Peck," explained Jenny.

"I'm not very interesting." That was her shield. If she wasn't interesting then people didn't dig into her life and her past and she could just be.

"Donut fine?" Lara looked delighted at that news.

In her most deadpan, Vivian replied, "There has to be a Peck on patrol in all divisions at all times."

There was a brief pause before they all started laughing and telling Vivian she was hilarious.

This was actually the first time she'd actually hung out with her classmates. They didn't have a whole lot in common and Vivian was oft called a 'tough nut to crack.' Gail found it amusing when Vivian had told her, and pointed out she'd been the bitchy ice queen. The difference between them, of course, was Gail's mask of indifference was from a fear of failure, while Vivian… just kept to herself.

Since Olivia had moved to Montréal and Matty went to college in the States, it had gotten worse.

Holly would sometimes remind her that it was okay to be quiet, but it was also good to talk to people. Her therapist suggested that she was just out of practice at making friends, which made sense. Matty and Olivia, literally, had been the only friends she had made as a kid. Everyone else was someone one of those two had brought into the crowd. And with the exception of the one party she threw at the house while her Moms were at a conference/vacation, Viv was just pretty quiet and, god help her, boring.

But boring was good and safe. Boring was left alone. Boring meant her classmates didn't make a fuss when she was called on more often to know the right answers at the academy. Boring meant they just felt she was a weird nerd with brown hair and hazel-brown eyes and tan skin, who happened to share a last name with a crop of pale, pale, blue eyed blondes. Boring meant no questions.

As Christian drove her home at the end of the drinks, he mentioned the drawback to her plan. "You know, we have to trust these guys."

"Come on, C," she muttered, slouching in her seat.

"You should get to know them."

"I do know them. They're simple." She sighed. "Rich is a dude bro who thinks being a cop is cool, Lara's way too perceptive and will be our first D, Jenny thinks life will keep handing her things like it always has, you think you know the job because of Chris, I'm the ice princess who has to succeed."

The car fell silent.

Christian eyed her. "It shouldn't be _weird_ that you just said a long sentence."

"Well. That's what you get."

"I think you'd have a better time, that's all. You're smart, you're a good person. Just open up."

Vivian looked out the side window of the car. Sure. Like that was easy. "Why are you nice, Christian? To me?" He was quiet as he pulled up to the sidewalk. No answer. "Right. Thanks for the ride, C." She got out of the car and shoved her hands in her pockets, heading up the stairs.

Suddenly the car door opened and Christian shouted, "You know and you don't treat me any different." She paused and turned. "Everyone who knows, back in Timmins, they all treat me like a freak. My dad's in jail for kidnapping me. My mom's crazy. And the guy I wish had been my dad is dead. And you treat me normal."

The sad fact was, in her world that was normal. But she knew everything about him. All he knew was she was adopted. And that was all she wanted him to know about her. "You treat me normal too, C," she pointed out and he grinned.

But it seemed to be the right answer.

* * *

Gail listened carefully for her daughter's return home. It was harder to be the only mom home today of all days, but Holly couldn't speed up the case and everyone knew that. It had been a case she worked with John's old Missing Persons unit, a kidnapper who took a young boy across the country. They found them only because of Holly's work on the case, which meant since it was being tried in Alberta, off she went for the trial in Calgary. Gail asked for a hat as a present.

And thus their daughter would begin her first day of work with only one, very nervous, mother in the house.

Really Gail wondered how the hell her parents had done it. Guilt and fear of normal growing up had nothing on this. As a child, Vivian had been self-contained and not adventurous, which didn't make it any less stressful to watch her go out and play sports or just hang out with her friends. She was always far too grown up and mature about her feelings, to the point of being ... Well in a lot of ways she was like Gail's father.

Not the asshole bigot part, but Bill was always cool and calm and collected. He didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like Gail and Steve often did. He was aloof, yes, but in a way that made you want to live up to it. And God, he was great at letting you know he was disappointed in you. Vivian had a similarly droll expression to let you know when you weren't fooling her. At seven, the look had been hilarious. At twenty-three years old, it was a little sad.

Her baby girl was twenty-three. Sometimes Gail wished they had gotten her as a baby, or had a baby, just to savor those early days a little more. More strongly, she was thankful for the grace of the girl in their life at all. She loved Vivian in a way that was terrifying and fulfilling, totally unlike Holly. It was like how she loved Steve, only more. Unconditional.

Her phone buzzed.

_Go to bed._

Gail smiled at Holly's text and thumbed a reply.

_Can't sleep. Kid goes to work in the morning._

_You driving her?_

_Of course!_

Her father drove her to work every day, that first year, and then for a long time after Perik. They didn't talk about things, but it was still one of the few really good memories she had of the man.

Holly texted back a smily face and a heart.

_When do you get home?_

_Tomorrow. Pled out just an hour ago. I'll catch the evening flight._

A weight was lifted off Gail's shoulders. Good. They texted a little while longer, passing endearments before Holly admonished her again to get some sleep, and then Gail put the phone on the charger mat.

Before she could turn off the light, there was a soft knock at the door. "Mom?"

Ah. Gail smiled. "Come on in. I'm still up." Taking off her reading glasses, Gail put them to the side as Vivian opened the door.

"Were you scared?" The girl lingered in the doorway wearing cut off sweat shorts and an old t-shirt. She dressed far more like Holly most of the time. It was amusing to see what parts of her were Gail, what were Holly, and what were all the uniqueness of Vivian.

"Totally," smiled Gail. "Want to crash here?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. There was that droll look. "Mom, come on. You didn't."

"Yes, but as we've pointed out, my parents were assholes."

That Vivian had grown up with the nicer Elaine meant those comments always brought a little cognitive dissonance. But Vivian grinned. "Did you sneak into Steve's room?"

"He'd already moved out." But in fact, yes. Gail had snuck into her big brother's room across the hall and spent the night there. Her mother had found her in the morning but said nothing. "What's got you worried?"

Her daughter kicked the doorframe with her bare foot. "What if I screw up and embarrass everyone?"

Everyone meant everyone Peck probably. "No matter how bad you screw up, as long as you listen to your TO, you'll do fine." Vivian didn't look up. "Hey, you could tell me tomorrow morning that you can't do it, and I will still love you, Viv. I don't care what you do."

"I won't." The words come out in a rush. "I want this. This job. Ever since the thing with the Prince."

That had been what Holly suspected all along. Gail had her doubts, but she'd not been home when the change in their daughter began. "Really? That was it?" Gail smiled. "And here I thought it's because you had a crush on Sue."

Bingo. Vivian blushed. "Jesus, Mom, you're an asshole."

"Tell me something new," sassed Gail.

Vivian rolled her eyes again, smiling now. "I'm going to bed."

"Night, kiddo. First shift is at 8."

"I know, Mom," called Vivian as she closed the door.

Gail raised her voice so it would be heard through the door. "Love you!"

"Love you too, Mom!"

Switching off the light, Gail curled up and looked at Holly's pillow. "Love you, Holly. See you soon."

* * *

"You ready?" Gail pulled up the car in the garage, looking over curiously.

"I've been ready for ages, Inspector."

Her mother sighed. "I never realized how hard this was for my Dad. He used to drive me..." They got out of the car, Vivian ducking into the back to get her uniform. "You know I'm right upstairs."

"Mom, seriously." Vivian ran a hand over her uniform. 4727. A lower number, as Fifteen had rolled around their badges again. Her mother's 8727 was locked in her memory. She hadn't known Gail when she was a uniformed officer, but the badge she knew like the back of her hand. Her theory was they both ended in 727 on purpose, even though Gail swore it was coincidence. Peck was synonymous, she'd learned, with things just happening.

"I am serious. Not nepotism, Monkey, just... I'm here. Okay?"

Vivian looked up and blinked. "Yeah, okay. But... Look I haven't told anyone you're my Mom is all." Gail arched her eyebrows in surprise. "They already know about Pecks, just not how I fit in. I don't want them to get all weird." The academy had been weird enough with instructors being tough on her, and the other Pecks being ... Pecks.

They paused at the stairs and Gail smiled. It was that evil, evil smile. "This should be fun. Don't tell them about Holly either. I bet that dude-bro in your class buys her a drink."

"Oh, no doubt. Rich is a dick."

Gail smirked. "Go out there. Protect Toronto. Don't pull a McNally." And Gail headed up the back stairs, giving Vivian a clear, solo path to the locker room. What a great Mom.

As she pulled on her uniform, her phone beeped. It was the other woman she called Mom, texting from her business trip.

_Good luck on your first day. I'll be home tonight. Don't screw up like Andy._

Vivian giggled and texted Holly back, telling her she loved her.

"Wow, Peck laughs." Lara Volk, the smart one, leaned over to peer at the phone. While Gail was listed as 'Best Mom of the Universe' in Viv's phone, Holly's read 'Dr. Mom.' They were both entries done by Gail. "Mom wishing you luck?"

"She's out of town," Vivian explained, turning the phone to mute and tucking it into her thigh pocket. "Get your tie on," she noted, clipping hers into place.

Lara yipped and scampered to her locker, snagging her tie. "I can't believe we get guns. Can you?"

"Hard to be a cop without one," smiled Vivian, settling her belt on. Gail had given her the run down on exactly how to wear the uniform the first week. Traci had shown her how to position her gun so her TO couldn't grab it. Oliver showed her how to grab it anyway. Andy and Nick told her they wouldn't be easy on her. Dov hadn't opened his mouth, probably because Gail threatened him to treat her daughter like everyone else, or she'd show them all photos of what he used to sleep in. Noelle just looked inscrutable and smiled.

Picking up her gun from the locker, she conscientiously checked and holstered it. "All set, Peck?"

She looked up at the speaker behind the quartermaster's counter and half smiled at her cousin Ryan. "Right and tight, Peck," she replied.

"Donut fine rests on you, kid. I'm going to the marine unit, once you're cut loose."

"You are welcome to be all wet."

"Least I'm not wet behind the ears. Don't screw it up, Peck."

That was the same song and dance everyone named Peck gave her. She sighed and eased into a seat for Parade, pulling out her pad to take notes. "Look at that, Peck. All eager," smiled Andy, sitting down across the aisle. It was still new to have Andy back on patrol, though it had been a half year. While never ascending the ranks, Andy had an incredible breadth of experience, having worked in more fields than anyone else at Fifteen. Vivian wondered if Andy was back as the lead TO because of her. Would Andy be _her_ TO?

"McNally," she smiled. "I've been warned twice."

Andy blinked and then groaned. "You tackle one undercover cop..."

"I still think it meant you did your job right," mused Vivian, spinning her pen in her hand. The pen was a matte black space pen with a stylus. Holly's idea of a safe gift for her cop child. She'd put up with no end of weird cop training. Like how Noelle and Gail made sure Vivian could use a baton, which meant a lot of practice snapping it out in the backyard.

"Wish anyone else had," sighed Andy. "You'll be good today. Don't worry."

The others filed in, all the rookies lining up at Vivian's table. Dov was the last in, starched white shirt. He read the roll and then looked at the row of five greenhorns. "We have five new rooks today. You five have a long and proud tradition to live up to. Fifteen has a reputation, unbroken and untarnished, of excellence. Of service. Of sacrifice." Dov looked at Vivian and then Christian before continuing. "You were top of your class in the academy. We don't care anymore. You may be a legacy, you think you know this job inside and out. We don't care. Maybe you think because you're street smart, or that because you can shoot a paper target that you're ready. You're not. None of that matters to today. There is absolutely _no_ training that prepares you for life on the street. And on that cautionary note, welcome to 15. Serve, protect, and don't screw up. Assignments are on the board."

* * *

The knock at the door surprised her. Gail had taken over an office in the last few years, something Butler never had. Her argument was that since she was in charge of so much more, she needed the space. Not that anyone had cared. But she rarely closed the door. Most people didn't knock either, they just started talking as they walked in. Dov was knocking today.

"Well?" She looked at her former roommate with a sneer.

"Nick," said Dov, and he sat on her couch.

So. It was Nick. Gail leaned back and nodded. "Nick's good. We need another Oliver, though."

"She doesn't need one."

"Still."

"If I had one," he sighed. "They don't make them like that anymore. When Oliver retired, shit I was never more scared in my life. Not even holding my son for the first time."

Of course, they did have another Oliver once, but they lost him years ago. Gail changed the subject a little. "And Christian?"

"Desk this week. Viv's one of the only ones I'm comfortable sending out right away. She knows the job."

Gail snorted. "She thinks she does." Vivian was twenty-three, immortal, the daughter of a police officer, who grew up with cops all her life.

"Jon Snow," drawled Dov. "You know nothing."

"Dork King," sassed Gail, but she smiled. "Who else did you send out?"

Dov leaned back. "Lara Volk. She was second in their class."

The name Gail knew. She'd kept tabs on Vivian's class and picked Volk out as the first one who'd try for the Ds. Volk had the most useful intellect of the lot. Not a huge amount of school, but enough life experiences. Vivian was actually third in her class, over all. First had gone to another Peck, over at TwentySeven by his own request. "She's good. With McNally?"

"Nah, Moore."

Jesus. "Gerald. You gave _Gerald_ more rookies?"

"Hey! He grew up!"

Gail grimaced. "Why not McNally?"

"She gets Rich, who I have heard thinks you and Traci are total Cougars."

With that thought, yes, Andy would do well with him. She could handle the dude-bro better than Gerald. "I guess," grumbled Gail. "This is terrifying, by the way."

"No kidding," sighed Dov. "Chris is fifteen, Gail. How the hell do you deal with fifteen year olds?"

At fifteen, Vivian had been pretty easy to deal with. "My kid's awesome, Dov. At sixteen she took on homophobic bullies, remember?"

Dov grimaced. His relationship with his family was wildly, weirdly, different than Gail's was. Gail did it in the normal order. Meet someone, date, move in, marry, have a kid. Dov and Chloe had a strange state where they'd had a kid years before they finally got married. Little Chris was seven, and objecting to being called Little Chris, when they'd had the ceremony.

But where Vivian was incredibly close and honest with her parents, Chris was a little more distant. He was a normal teenager, basically. He'd even been busted for possession. That flipped Dov out, and he shouted that he'd lost a brother to drugs and he wasn't loosing a son. It did scare Chris straight at least, but they'd had to bring in Oliver to calm everyone down.

"That's why she's on the streets, you know. She's good people, Gail." Dov paused. "Holly's influence, right?"

"Totally," smiled Gail.

"When's good influence getting home?"

"Tonight. She's on the noon flight so she'll be home by five."

"Nice. Taking tomorrow off?"

Gail shook her head. "Nope. Peck Force One flies again, now with 100% less homophobes and bigots."

It was Dov who coined that phrase. He looked apologetic, which was only fair given how everything played out with Bill. And then he grinned. "Maybe she'll pull a McNally and I'll have to bench her tomorrow."

"Really," snorted Gail. "Two things, for your little hamster brain, Epstein. First, my kid will never pull a McNally. Second, do you really think I want her home all day with me and Holly?"

Dov smirked. "I thought I wasn't supposed to think about you and Holly."

With a scowl that belied her actual feelings of amusement, Gail pointed at the door. "Out! Some of us have real work!"

And Dov did leave, but he laughed the whole way.

* * *

"So there's a talk," explained Nick, sliding into the driver's seat.

"Okay." Vivian buckled herself in and eyed her TO.

That it was someone she knew was a given. That it was someone her mother used to date was weird, but sort of expected. There were only a few options for TO anyway. While Olivia had joked that her mom would be Viv's TO, Noelle was edging up on retirement and didn't have any rookies anymore. In fact, only weeks after Olivia had joked about it, Noelle became Inspector. _Everyone_ reported to Noelle. Even Gail, who had no problems with Noelle getting bumped over her like that and had pointed out it had been weird to technically outrank Noelle anyway. The fact that Noelle and Frank were still working at all was weird though.

The other good options for a TO who wouldn't have issues with Vivian and her name were Andy, Gerald, or one of the new group. With that in mind, Nick made perfect sense. Gail might have shot Gerald and god knew what she'd do to Andy. Actually, Vivian might have shot Gerald.

Nick cleared his throat. "So. I'm Nick, Nick Collins."

Nope. She couldn't do it. Vivian smothered a laugh. "Nick, come on," she laughed. She'd known him for 18 years. When he fell asleep on the back deck at the cottage, Gail had used an air horn to wake him up. He was family. And he scowled. It took a moment, but Vivian pressed her lips together. "Sorry."

When she was silent long enough, he went on. "I'm your training officer until further notice. You don't touch anything in the car until I tell you to. You don't write anything down in your memo book until I tell you to. You don't talk to other people, you look at me first. You do as I "say" not as I "do"."

Vivian nodded. She'd heard this one before. Her mother had given it to a new detective under her wing once, and it never failed to make her have the giggles. Gerald once said Gail had given it to him. "Yes, sir."

Nick sighed, eyeing Vivian like she was a lost cause. "Look, you probably think right now I'm being a bit of a hard ass. If things gets stressed out there… If I get stressed… Peck, my job is to keep you safe. This crest on my shoulder, this represents you, Peck, and we're both going home today. Okay?"

Her mother never did that half of the talk and Vivian blinked. She was sure that she'd heard it before, though. Gail had promised her that the crest on her badge meant she was always going to come home to her. It didn't sound like Gail or Nick, though. "Oh. That's Oliver," she said aloud, not really meaning to.

"Yeah," sighed Nick. "He didn't give it to me my first day—"

"And you jumped off a bridge," finished Vivian. "Andy told me last week."

Rolling his eyes, Nick started the car. "I don't know why I thought you'd be different than Gail," he grumbled.

Vivian cheerfully stretched her legs out. "Me neither."

They drove in silence for a while. "You know I'm going to make sure you're the best cop you can be, right?"

"I do." And she did.

"Okay. So I can't be Uncle Nick anymore."

When Gail entered the academy, she said she stopped calling Al Santana 'Uncle Al.' "I know, Nick." She hesitated. "Should I call you Collins?"

"When we're out there, yes. You call me Officer Collins. In here and at the station you can call me Nick. I call you Peck, though."

"Yeah, okay, that's weird."

He laughed. "Regretting ditching the Green? Or not taking Stewart?"

She flipped him off, which only made him laugh more. But it did make her start thinking more about her birth parents than normal. Frankly, she never thought about them much at all, but it had kind of been that sort of weird recently. The last few weeks as they'd wrapped things up at the academy had become unsettling.

It had started with her fellow rookies, Rich and Lara, chatting about how Vivian was treated differently. She got chastised more than they did, as if all the instructors expected more from her. Which they probably did. Conversely, she had also gotten away with a hell of a lot more, being the first to get to drive on the course and take lead in training exercises. She suddenly understood why Gail had some weird damage from growing up Peck. Vivian could not fail. It wasn't an option. You fail as a Peck, you fail for everyone to see.

Vivian now understood why her grandmother had been so set against Vivian changing her name. The wall in front of her was insanely high, and she'd put it there herself. Worse, she was seen as a brown-noser by her cousins for having taken the name in the first place.

And it wasn't that she wasn't friends with her classmates. They just didn't have a lot in common besides the job. Rich was stuck up and arrogant, Lara was way too perceptive, Jenny was a princess, and Christian... Well. They were in the dead parents club. And Vivian was private.

"You know why you got to go out your first day?"

"No, sir." She knew Gail had been stuck on desk with Dov the first week.

"Dov said you were the least likely to pull a McNally."

Vivian snorted. "And that's three. Moms said the same thing today." No one was telling her not to pull a Collins though. Interesting. Of course she knew that story too. Oliver told her about all the rookies, even her mother.

Nick smirked. "When's Holly getting back anyway?"

"Tonight or tomorrow. Whenever the trial's over." Vivian watched the streets roll by carefully. She paid attention to where they were. Gail liked to play a game of naming the next cross street. Elaine called it the 'quick, your partner was shot!' game. Holly thought they were both idiots.

The radio squawked, announcing shots fired at 1504. Shots fired. Lara Volk was with (God help her) Duncan Moore in 1504. "Fastest way to the address?" Nick was calm. How could he be calm? Her heart was pounding in her chest. Suddenly it was real.

"Uh, construction on Dunn, take a right at the second street, up four, a left, end of the lane we can cut up the alley."

"Call it in," nodded Nick.

She fumbled the radio, nearly getting the wrong button. "1519 responding. 5 out."

"1519, Dispatch, received."

After a moment, Nick cleared his throat. "Siren."

"Right!" She flicked it on and looked sheepish. Every single thought about what she was supposed to do felt jumbled in her head.

"You stay by me, Peck," he said gently. Calmly.

She nodded so hard it hurt. "Yes. Yes, sir."

Had it been this terrifying for Gail? The story of Snakeface spun to the front of Vivian's brain. Even the amazing Gail Peck had fucked up as a rook. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

In retrospect, no one was ever really ready. And she understood why it was so easy for Andy to have done what she did. It was everything like class and, at the same time, nothing at all like what she'd practiced. There was a druggie yelling at Nick and Vivian's brain knew, it knew, she was supposed to step in and do something. No, this was right. She was the backup. Look serious. The guy was yelling about how he didn't even have a gun and then another guy, with a gun, burst out of the alley.

While her brain struggled to process everything, her body was in motion. As the yelling druggie grabbed the backpack at his feet and made a run for it, Nick yelled… Nick yelled something. Her brain was fuzzy but her body remembered everything. Holster the gun, sprint after the druggie holding the backpack. Nick's got the guy with the gun. The alley cut through an apartment parking lot. The street mapped itself in her head. Vivian cut across, sliding over the hood of a parked car, only to have him cut back.

God no wonder Gail always bitched about chasing criminals! They were unpredictable! No... No, Gail said they were totally predictable. What would Gail do? If the guy was headed back, he forgot something. But he wouldn't just rush the crime scene. No, he'd go around the side and try to get in the building.

"4727, in pursuit of, uh, perp. He's playing alley maze." Vivian took off at a sprint, not waiting for a reply from dispatch, praying she was right. The alleyway merged and she took the fence at full speed, swinging over it easily. Fine! That stupid obstacle course made sense. It was easier for her than most because of her hobby was running around on the weekends with ETF, and they liked American Ninja Warrior.

Landing easily, Vivian skidded as she rounded the corner and drew her gun, bringing it up to bear on the druggie as he came around the opposite side. "Freeze!"

He did.

Holy crap. It worked!

"Put the bag down."

"You don't understand," he whined. "They want me dead."

"We can protect you," she bluffed. She had no idea if that was the case. "Put the bag down."

He hesitated. He was going to run. Vivian knew it. Had she remembered to switch her radio on? Could she call for backup? Had she pulled a Gerald?! Panic started to swim in her head.

"The officer said put the gun down." The voice was calm and strong and familiar. How was Andy so calm? It washed over her like one of Gail's cocoas on a winter day, warming the edges of her soul. For a moment, she felt safe, something she thought she'd never feel around McNally, who was still the butt of many jokes.

They both stood there, guns trained on the man, until the bag went down. "Please, I need protection! Asylum!"

"We're not a church," grumbled Andy, stepping up and pushing the bag away with her foot. "Cuff him."

Vivian's eyes went wide. Andy was giving her the collar? "Uh, yes, yes, ma'am." She holstered her gun and pulled out her cuffs, quickly securing the perp and reading him his rights.

That shut him up good, and Vivian glanced over at Andy, who was chatting on the radio. She unzipped the bag and blinked. "Well hell, Peck. You've got your grandmother's luck. This is a guns and gangs special."

She wanted to look over, but kept a firm hold on her perp. Cuffed or not, she'd heard the stories. "Ma'am?"

Andy smirked and held up the bag. "On your first day you just chased down a lieutenant in one of the major crack dealing gangs in the city."

The perp in her hand blustered. "First _day_?"

"Yeah. You got busted by a rook," sang Andy.

* * *

The two police officers in her life were talking about nothing but the case Vivian had accidentally burst open. Steve, who was in charge of Guns and Gangs now, had been looking for a way to tie in the gang to the drugs, and Vivian all but handed it to him on a silver platter.

Gail was delighted, proud, and told Vivian that repeatedly. Vivian kept looking embarrassed and quiet.

Finally, Holly cut into the conversation. "You know, when I asked what I missed, I was expected a little more about how much you missed me, Pecks."

Her wife looked abashed and put down the spatula. "I missed you terribly," she said quietly. The blue eyes were dark and apologetic.

"I barely even got a kiss hello."

"Hmm, I'm failing there. Viv, would you...?" Gail waved a hand a the food.

"You guys are so gross," teased Vivian, taking the spatula up and stirring the meat. "Did you even make the guac yet?"

"Hush." Gail wrapped her hands on Holly's waist, leaning in to kiss her properly. "Missed you," she whispered.

Holly smiled. "Better." They kissed again. "She's feeling shy, lay off," Holly whispered in Gail's ear before kissing her jawline. Gail made a noise of agreement and sighed happily. The hands moved, hauling Holly into a good, proper, hug. Those hugs felt so good.

Vivian cleared her throat. "Can you tell us about _your_ case, Mom?"

Letting go of her with a kiss, Gail took over the cooking duties, mixing up the guacamole. "Not much," admitted Holly, watching Gail. She loved watching Gail cook, when the constant nagging in her head faded away and she was just a person. The look on Gail's face was serene and more beautiful than anything else. Holly knew how to get that face in other ways, that relaxation, but this too was good. "I can tell you he pled out in the face of my awesome science."

Both cops laughed at that. "She's not kidding, Viv," chortled Gail. "Nerds win more cases now, thanks to TV."

"We are awesome," smiled Holly, leaning on the counter. "How come you're not celebrating at the Penny tonight?"

"Friday," shrugged Vivian. "I think some of the rooks are there tonight though."

"And you are not because..."

Vivian looked surprised. "Well. You're home." She tossed the vegetables onto the pan. "And when have I ever been the party girl?"

With a dramatic sigh, Gail hung her head. "I've raised a woman who believes in moderation." Gail sounded mournful, but Holly laughed.

"And tequila," giggled Vivian.

"Shaddup," snapped Gail, smirking. "Get me a beer, child."

"I'm working the meat here!" There was a pause and all three women cackled. "Mom, one for me too?"

Holly sighed and got three bottles. "You both suck."

They ate the fajitas on the deck, talking about normal things. Vivian brought up some of the news about a possible Ebola cure. Holly had read about it on the plane and gave her some medical tidbits. They then talked about the sports games they liked. While Gail had never seemed to mind it, Holly always worried when they talked about things they enjoyed that excluded her.

She'd long since given up trying to understand what mom roles they each fell into. Vivian called her, as a child, when she'd had a panic attack sleeping over at Olivia's. But then at eleven, when a camp out had proven too painful, it was Gail who got the call and drove hours to pick her up. Holly was the first to be told about the crush on Olivia, Gail was the shoulder when they broke up, and weirdly Elaine was the confidant about how Vivian worried about how that would affect things with Noelle and Frank when she became a cop.

The conversation turned a little, without her noticing, and now Gail was asking about the girl Vivian had been sort of seeing at the Police Academy. "Oh my god, Mom, shut up," scowled Vivian, looking away.

Gail was smiling. "So that would be a no, not serious?"

Vivian screwed her face up into a look of Gail's that, for a long time, Holly hated. It was the look of disdain Gail had thrown at her at the Penny years ago. "Mom, seriously? No, we weren't serious. She wasn't. She was nice, but... Y'know, no. Not gonna be a thing."

Glancing at Holly, Gail reached over and took her hand. "Well, even if you have adventures like Dr. Slutty BitchTits, we'll love you. Just be safe."

Another eye roll from the daughter. "You do realize that Lisa has been exclusively seeing Kate for, like, ever, right? I mean not everyone gets to be married almost twenty years."

Both Gail and Holly stared in silence. "Shit," muttered Gail.

"Seriously, you forgot?" Holly smirked.

"No, it's just... We're _old,_ Holly!"

The look of horror on Gail's face was hilarious and Holly laughed until she was crying, "You're going to be _fifty_ , Gail!"

Gail looked positively stricken. "No no no! No I'm not!" Covering her face with her hands, Gail faux-wailed as Vivian and Holly laughed.

"Come here, you idiot," smiled Holly, moving the hands away and cupping Gail's face in her own. "I love you, fifty and god knows what color your hair really is." She leaned in and kissed Gail slowly. God, Gail kissed so wonderfully. Her lips were soft and tender, curved into a shy smile as they kissed.

The click of a camera phone stopped them. "This is why I'm still in therapy," muttered Vivian, smirking.

"You're the one who took a photo," Gail sassed, scooted her chair around, and draped an arm over Holly's shoulders. "Wanna clean up the dishes so your old mams can make out?"

Vivian pointed at Holly. "Technically that's her chore, since we cooked."

With a laugh, Holly kissed Gail's cheek. "I will load the dishwasher," she smiled.

Of course, everyone brought in their own dishes, which made clean up incredibly fast and easy. Gail tidied up the mess of a living room and Vivian took care of the deck. Everyone cooked, everyone cleaned, and it just worked out. It had been Vivian's chore, as a child, to set the table, though since she liked to cook with Gail, that hadn't lasted long.

Vivian just liked doing whatever the grownups had been doing. Play sports with Holly, play video games with Gail, math and science with Holly, cooking with Gail, running with Holly, shooting with Gail... She was their kid.

"What's going on in that noggin, Stewart?" Gail's breath was a soft puff from behind her ear.

"We raised a pretty awesome kid, Peck," replied Holly. She leaned back and smiled as Gail wound her arms around Holly's waist. "I'm sorry I missed her first day."

"She understands." Gail kissed Holly's shoulder. "I understand." Another kiss. "Did you bring us presents?"

Holly laughed and playfully shoved Gail away. "Really? Is that all I'm good for? Science and presents?"

"And sex," teased Gail.

"God, Moms." Vivian stuck her tongue out. But the kid was smiling. "Go to your room."

Holly was about to say it was early when she caught Gail's look. "I _did_ bring a present," she noted. "I got you a Flames shirt, Viv."

Her daughter the hockey fan grinned. "Cool. Did you get Mom a cowboy hat?"

"Do you see a cowboy hat?"

Gail smirked and headed to the stairs. "You were home when we got back. Come on, shower. We can watch something on the tube if you want."

By the time Holly was done with her shower, though, she lay across the bed in her robe and groaned. "I'm too old," she muttered.

Her wife kissed her forehead. "Hey, if I'm about to be fifty, you're looking up at sixty," she teased.

"Not funny, Gail." But the blonde went to the bathroom for her own shower. Holly shook her head and smiled. From the sound of it, Gail was shaving and washing her hair, so Holly got up and pulled out the presents from the closet. Vivian's shirt and a pair of fuzzy slippers went by the door. Gail, though... Well it was no secret her wife had wanted the hat. Of course she got it.

Putting the hat on her own head and shedding the robe, Holly stretched out on the bed in her birthday suit.

It was good timing. The water went off. Gail was singing softly, a romantic ditty from some new musician about love and stars and laughter, and drying her hair. "Hey, are you throwing me a big party? Because I'm okay with just something small."

"You hate parties, Gail."

"I hate people making a fuss."

"I know. It's right up on our twentieth, and you know we have to do that big."

Gail made a noise. "Mine will make Mom feel old."

Frankly it made Holly feel old. "I'll talk to her. Any requests?"

"A nice hotel," laughed Gail and then she went silent.

Holly glanced over and saw her wife standing in the doorway to the bathroom, blinking. "Like the hat?" She grinned and pushed the brim up with one finger.

Nodding, Gail took the towel off her shoulders and tried to hang it up on the hook. She missed twice. Then she swore, tore her eyes away, and carefully hung up her towel. "So you're not tired?"

"Not that tired, no," smiled Holly, patting the bed beside her.

Gail smiled and climbed up to the bed. "Keep the hat on," she grinned, kissing Holly.

The hat stayed on for a while, about as long as Holly's glasses normally stayed on, but it did eventually get in the way. When the hat got tossed to the side, Gail didn't complain, though that probably had to do with what Holly was doing with her tongue at the time.

Afterwards, Holly hung the hat up after she dug out a shirt to wear. Gail watched, sleepily, smiling. Holly smiled back and asked, "Are you really going to work tomorrow?"

"Mm. Yeah, I've got to follow up on the guy Viv arrested. Might be a big break for Steve's group."

Holly snuggled up against Gail, breathing her scent in. "That sucks."

With a snort and a laugh, Gail reached over and turned her light off. "Can't be helped. Crime waits for no one." They settled into the easy relaxation of being in bed together. "I hate this bed when you're not in it."

"I hate hotels when you're not in them with me," murmured Holly. Her body grew heavy quickly.

It was good to be home.

* * *

The bad thing about being a rookie, Vivian realized, was that she couldn't keep working the case she'd broken open. She'd complained to Matty about that on the phone, and he reminded her that she actually had it better off than her fellow rookies. Because unlike them, Vivian was a Peck and was therefore in the Peck Fold. She had access to resources. When she and Nick got back from patrol, Vivian went up to the second floor to find Uncle Steve. It was easy. He was at the coffee maker.

"Hey, who let the rookie up here?" Steve, balding and greying, was grinning ear to ear.

"They have these things called stairs, Inspector Peck." She smiled back.

"Oh do they, Constable Peck?" But he waved her in. "Your mom make it home okay?"

Vivian nodded. "She did. Got me a Flames shirt and some fuzzy slippers."

"We'll be over for Sunday dinner." The Peck dinners had moved to her house at some point in her teen years. Probably because Gail was the better cook. "Out of curiosity, why's Gail wearing a cowboy hat today?"

"Because she's a pervert," sighed Vivian.

Steve, to his credit, looked thoughtful. "Ew." They both laughed. "Come on, let me show you the headache you left me."

She grinned and walked to Steve's office at the end of the hall. They didn't hug or otherwise show any indication they were more than a random pair of people with the same last name. Everyone upstairs knew, though. Most of the detectives knew her from her childhood, and certainly from when she was eighteen and up.

That had been when Gail had conceded to Vivian's pleading and let her hang out upstairs when she came by the station. Prior, she'd only been allowed downstairs in Oliver or Dov's offices. Once she was in the Police Academy, though, she'd not come by as often. Most of her time was spent in school or driving to and from Alymer. Four hours each way, every weekend, in a crappy car had not been fun, but of all the horrible things to find out in her adult life, she still did not sleep well outside the home.

Gail had theorized that if Vivian thought of her place as 'home' or 'her space' she would be fine. So far that seemed to work. Camping in her own tent was fine. Her own, single, dorm was fine. Getting that single dorm had been a trick that Vivian suspected was Pecked out for her. Gail argued it was cause by the declining applications to the force.

The last week of the course, Holly and Gail had both come to stay in town since they were each teaching a class. That had helped, and Vivian had gotten permission to stay with family. It was a strange thing, she knew, and a weird exception to the norm. But somehow, no one on the force really knew about it, and she was planning to keep it that way. Gail had pointed out that undercover work might be tricky, though not everyone did that sort of thing. And it wasn't that she didn't try to overcome her fears, she just... Woke up worried. Or worse, panicking. Stupid irrational fears.

Her uncle knew, though.

"You like it," she teased him, looking at the board he'd set up for the case. "Three Rivers is a really stupid name for a-" She stopped abruptly and stared. "Wait, no way!"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, the sons of bitches who stabbed me."

"I thought you and Mom took 'em down!"

"We did, but there's down and there's down. Most gangs come and go. Especially old ones like this." Steve pulled up a file on his computer and showed it to her. The history of this gang was pretty impressive. "They switched to medical grade drugs for a while, then killing, then we broke them, and they've been rebuilding since. Now it's back to drugs."

Steve lectured Vivian on the gang for the majority of her break, ending only when he got a call from a CI. She took the information back downstairs, thinking about the layers of the case.

"Peck, I was looking for you. We roll in ten," said Nick as he bumped into her in the hallway.

"Yes, sir," she nodded.

Nick eyed her. "You up on three?"

"Nah, talking to the Ds on two. Apparently we busted Three Rivers."

The older officer looked confused. "Why do I know that name?"

Vivian grinned. "Well it _was_ most of my life ago."

That clued him in. "No shit... Well. Don't get a swelled head thinking we'll get to work on that, Peck. We get to patrol. Day in and out."

She knew that. Better than most rookies, probably, she understood that the most junior members of Fifteen didn't get the fun stuff. She didn't get to follow a cool case that her mother and uncle were working on, just because it was them. She didn't even get to tell her classmates because they had no idea who she was. And she wasn't anyone special.

When she met Nick by their cruiser, 1507 today, she asked, "Can I drive?"

"Hah, not gonna happen."

She didn't think so, but it was worth asking. "You know I beat out her top score as a rook," noted Vivian as she buckled in. "On the course."

"Who? Gail's?" When Vivian nodded, Nick looked impressed. "Still not driving."

"Your loss."

"You are _so_ like your mother," he chortled. "Hey, why don't your rookie friends know that?"

Vivian hesitated. She knew exactly what Nick meant. "It's stupid."

"Try me."

She sighed and looked out the window. "I don't want them thinking I got here because I'm her kid." There was a weird smirk on Nick's face. "What?" She snarled at him in her best Gail.

"You should tell her that. She'd get a kick out of it."

Vivian snorted. "She knows. Anyway, she wants to see which one hits on Holly first."

Nick thought about it for all of a second. "Rich."

"No bet," smiled Vivian.

"Is any of that related to why Gail was wearing a cowboy hat today?"

Oh Jesus. That hat. "Mom— Holly got home last night. Apparently that's her present." Vivian really didn't want to know the specifics of what else the hat involved, but Gail was certainly in a good mood. She could do without details of her parents' sex life and was just thankful the house had good soundproofing.

Her TO had the grace to look embarrassed. "Man." He shook his head.

Did Nick know Vivian knew he had been engaged to Gail? Vivian hadn't found out until she was a teenager, though it didn't really seem to matter much. It did explain why Gail was generally more herself around Nick, though. He was pretty much family.

They drove through the city, Nick quizzing her like all the rookies complained about, until the radio sent them to the edge of Fifteen, right by TwentySeven, for a robbery related to their Three Rivers case. Vivian perked up.

"Down girl," muttered Nick, turning the car towards the destination. "It's just going to be standing around."

"Steve said they working on medical grade pharmaceuticals now."

Nick snorted. "That's Detective Inspector Peck to you, Peck."

Rolling her eyes, Vivian pointed out the obvious. "We have _five_ Pecks at fifteen, Collins. I gotta differentiate them somehow, and I don't think I can get away calling Uncle Steve 'Keystone Peck' at work."

At least Nick smirked. "God, I'm too old for this, kid," he laughed.

He was two years younger than Gail, as Vivian recalled. Gail had been the oldest in her class by a couple years, just like Vivian was, because Pecks went to school and got degrees before joining the force. Unlike Gail, who'd majored in criminal justice, Vivian had gone for an engineering bend with a minor in criminal studies. She had always liked seeing how things ticked.

As they pulled up, Nick swore when he saw the truck. Vivian blinked at it, confused, but a moment later figured out why Nick was so annoyed. "Swarek," Nick said to the swarthy man.

"Collins... Peck." He did a double take, looking at Vivian for a long moment. "No shit?"

Vivian nodded, griping her belt carefully. "Sir," she said respectfully. She never liked Sam. He had always rubbed her the wrong way, especially as a kid. Something was odd about him. But it was worse for Nick because of his long term ... whatever the hell he and Andy were. Girlfriend. But it was Sam whom Andy had actually married at one point. Vivian hadn't been around for the marriage, but she remembered the divorce involved cheating. Or something.

Sam Swarek had not aged well. On his best days, in his younger days, he looked like a leathery basset hound. Now, over a decade later, he was haggard and paunchy and his skin looked saggy. He looked older than Oliver, who was actually quite a bit older than Sam. What the hell had Andy seen in him? Of course Swarek was still with Marlo, though, and they had a daughter. So he wasn't a total asshole.

"You sure that's your Peck's kid?" Sam jerked his thumb at Vivian while looking at Nick.

"Oh yeah," sighed Nick. "So what've we got?"

Apparently Sam knew better than to banter with the man dating his ex-wife or the daughter of Gail Peck, and frankly Vivian wasn't sure which made him wiser. "Not much special, but Guns and Gangs has a request to keep an eye out for these guys." He gestured for the two to follow. "So guess who owns the bar?"

Vivian looked up at the name of the place. The Fork. "Seriously? Just when I thought they couldn't get dumber than calling themselves Three Rivers."

Sam snorted. "There's the Peck," he laughed. "Watch the door, rookie. Collins, c'mere."

Of course. Vivian knew she had to pay her dues and didn't argue as she took a guard outside the door. Another rookie was already there, looking a hell of a lot more nervous than she was. She recognized him from their class. "Hey, Garcia."

"Hey, Peck. You know Swarek?"

"Afraid so. Who'd you draw?"

"Trevor. He's okay. You?"

"Collins."

Garcia craned his head and looked inside. "Man, I wanna get in and see. This is a total gang hangout."

"See what? It's just another bar." When Garcia sighed, she asked, "Has forensics been by?"

"Not yet. Swarek called 'em when he got here." Garcia eyed her. "You got here fast."

She smiled. What she wanted to do was brag she'd gotten on of the gang members the day before. Instead, she just shrugged. "Collins is good."

With a grunt, Garcia looked around. "He looks old."

"He's 46."

"See? That's more than double my age."

It was double Vivian's, certainly. "Best TOs are the ones who've been on the street forever." But there was a point. Sam was in his fifties. So was Holly. There was a time when they'd be gone, and it was coming soon. It was coming fast. Well. Out with the old, as Gail might say.

The forensic geeks rolled up and Vivian grinned at them. "Hey! It's the little Peck," beamed LaFaire, one of Holly's favorite techs.

"Hey, LaFaire. Up for some work?"

"You bet. Your mom home yet?"

"Yesterday. You'll see her tomorrow." Vivian turned and stuck her head inside. "Detective? Forensics is here."

It was Nick who replied. "Bring 'em in, Peck. Trevor, take over watch?"

A second voice, presumably Trevor, grumbled. "Just because it's your case..." But the man gave Vivian a polite nod as he came out.

The bar was dark and smelly. "Jesus, do they ever clean?"

"I think this is clean," muttered LaFaire. He set up and started directing people to take photos and collect evidence, one going over to the man seated in front of Nick and Sam.

The bartender, Vivian presumed, was a weedy, pale, skittish man. His skin had the pallor Vivian associated with constant drug use. When he talked, his teeth looked horrific. Meth. She looked around carefully. Garcia and Trevor would have cleared the place before Sam went in, certainly before forensics was let in.

Well. That's how Fifteen did it. Vivian had heard Gail tell that TwentySeven had, historically, been trouble. Holly had said the same. Uncle Frank had investigated them and that was why Gail was supervising them from OC.

With a nod at Nick, Vivian made a hand sign to indicate she was going to walk around the room. Her TO flashed back an okay sign. Nick had taught her his hand signals one summer when he and Andy had come up to the cottage for Holly's birthday. Hand signs, like ASL and Canadian ASL, were easy for Vivian. A hell of a lot easier than French. But just fuck LSQ.

She quietly made her way around the room, listening to the continuing discussion with the bartender. His story was simple. He was setting up, leaving the door unlocked because he was expecting a new beer sampler from a local home brew. The door opened and he was robbed by a guy in a ski mask. He hadn't even called the cops, Garcia and Trevor just happened to be nearby. They'd lost the thief, but there was an APB out on the car.

Vivian leaned over the bar. His story made some sense, except for the part about someone robbing a bar in the daylight. Who the hell did that? She looked up. No cameras. The till was untouched.

Three Rivers ran drugs. Where would Gail look? Where would Steve or Elaine look? Where would Traci look? She'd grown up with their stories about how they just knew where to look. But that wasn't it at all. They knew how to read a scene. They knew how to see what was wrong because it was different.

Okay then, Rookie Peck. What looked different? What was she looking at? What would Gail ask her about at dinner?

The blood and damage in the bar was isolated. The tables that were overturned were only a few. Three. So someone came in the front... She looked down and saw forensics marking the tracks. "LaFaire, did someone stand there?" Vivian pointed at where a tech was positioned.

"Yeah, so check this out." And he walked her through the fight. It matched (mostly) what Vivian had assumed. Guy came in, guy talked for a while (handprints on a table), guy walked up to the pool table and took a cue to beat on their bartender.

"He went all the way across the room to get a pool stick?" Vivian frowned.

"Go check it out," said Nick. "No touching."

She probably knew forensics and medical jurisprudence better than he did, but Vivian just smiled. "Yes, sir." Vivian heard Sam tell the bartender to calm down, that she was a rookie but she wouldn't screw anything up. So she was being used to spook him, to drive out the truth. Alright then. Vivian walked around the table and kept an eye on the bartender. He got more tense when she neared one table.

What was so special about it? "LaFaire," said Sam absently. "Go check that table, will ya?"

The tech didn't look a whit confused and came over with his ALS to check for trace. "Hey, Peck. Ever done a real field test?"

She brightened. "No, sir." A look at Nick gave her a nod and Vivian cheerfully followed LaFaire's directions to take a sample and use the test strip.

"Well how'd'ya like that," grinned Sam. "We got drugs."

* * *

Watching her daughter put her uniform in the car, Gail smiled. "So. Week one and you had two drug busts."

"One bust, two locations." Vivian grinned, pushing her bangs out of her face. She should cut her hair again, thought Gail. Short. It was so thick though, unlike Gail's, that short needed constant maintenance.

"Steve's happy."

Vivian nodded. "Looks like Three Rivers is back with drugs, so that's something for him and Chloe to work on."

Her staff was working a bit overtime to sort it out, but Gail didn't mind. "Could be worse," she mused. "Nick said you're doing good."

Her daughter gave her the best droll look Vivian knew, which was pretty impressive. "It's creepy you're checking up on me."

"I am not," laughed Gail. "My friend, Nicholas, happens to be your TO. I didn't have a thing to do with it, kiddo." Vivian looked skeptical. "Promise, I didn't even get you to Fifteen. That was all you."

Vivian smiled shyly. "I like it here."

"Yeah? You sure you don't want to change your mind and go back to engineering?" For the life of her, Gail couldn't fathom why Viv had taken that major. Holly had floated the faint hope that it meant Vivian was changing her mind about her future.

The rookie shook her head. "You said you'd back me up on this, no matter what."

"I did," smiled Gail. "How're you getting home?"

"I'll get a ride from C."

"Sure you don't want to come home and get your car?"

"Nah, it's good." Vivian paused. "You sure you're not coming to the Penny?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "You don't need me there hanging out and hovering. Go make some friends with these idiots. You'll need them later on."

Vivian grinned. "I'm going to tell Andy you said that. See you later, Mom."

She watched Vivian head back into the station and sighed. It wasn't going to get easier. She'd thought it was hard letting her go to school. Letting her go, armed, into this situation was even more terrifying. Gail pulled her phone out and tapped her favorite number. "Hey, beautiful. What're you doing tonight?"

The chief medical examiner of Toronto laughed. "I was thinking about hitting up the batting cages."

"Eh, I don't do sports, Stewart."

"Our mini-human does."

"Our mini-human is taller than we are, and off to the Penny to celebrate a week of work."

Holly was quiet for a moment. "Well now I feel old. You're not going?"

"I'd spoil her fun. Besides, she hasn't told them who I am."

Her wife laughed. "Your daughter."

Gail grinned. " _Your_ daughter." She was very much both of them. "Someone impressed forensics this week with her adherence to crime scene protocol and knowledge of medical jurisprudence."

She could actually hear Holly puff with pride. "How about I pick you up at home and we go to the batting cages and then dinner?"

"Fine, I want that Ethiopian place," Gail said firmly, getting into her car.

"Oh? You're not cooking?" Holly was teasing her now and Gail laughed. "I love you, Peck. See you in a bit."

At home, she ruminated on the fact that she was now the parent of a police officer. It had seemed to theoretical and far away, even when Viv was in college and at the academy, that she didn't really worry about it. But now it was all very real. Her kid was Officer Peck. One of about eight right now, depending on what her cousins were up to, but she was a Peck and she was a police officer.

They'd only had Vivian with them for 17 years. Was that enough to give her a good, stable, family? God knew they'd given her enough trauma and drama. Like Holly having Ebola, or Gail vanishing off the planet for a month, or all the times their jobs sucked them away from being able to be there. They'd missed sports games, plays, all sorts of things. But they'd tried.

And it wasn't like Vivian didn't know the reality of the job. She was just as aware as Gail had been at that age. Maybe more so, since Gail didn't keep any of the Peck secrets away from Vivian. Vivian had been 'Peckified' at nine. Gail remembered when she was roughly the same age and her mother sat her down to explain where her father's brother was. Uncle Gary had been undercover with the drug unit and there was a good chance he wouldn't come back alive. He did, as it happened, but they were all seriously concerned and wanted to talk about it at the house. So they asked the kid if she wanted to know.

It was always a tough burden to bear. Early in their friendship, Dov was jealous of Gail's inside track. The more he knew, like now, about how much of a cost that came at, the more apologetic he was for his behavior. The price was a loss of her childhood and innocence. She knew the reality of the world.

So did her daughter. And it was entirely her fault.

"Uh oh," muttered Holly as she came in. "I'm going to pee and you're going to tell me why you're in a tree, Peck."

Gail sighed and followed Holly up stairs. She should at least change her shoes before they went out. When she heard the flush and the sink, she asked, "Am I too old to wear my boots?"

"No," said Holly firmly.

"You're just saying that because you think I'm sexy in them," sighed Gail, staring into her side of the closet.

She was not surprised when Holly's arms wrapped around her. "Doesn't make it not true." Holly's head rested on her shoulder. "What's up?"

"Guilt and fear." Both of their mothers had said parenthood ran on those. Which meant all Gail had to do was say that for Holly to understand what she was having the feels about.

Her wife sighed, understandingly, and squeezed Gail. "How hard is the first week?"

Gail leant back against Holly and frowned. "I was constantly terrified I was going to fuck up. And I did. I totally choked. Viv's doing way better than I am."

"Ah," exhaled Holly. "That's because you're an awesome mom."

"I don't feel like one," muttered Gail. "By the way, you were right. It was about the Crown Prince."

Holly hummed an understanding. "King Wills. Good. We'll blame him. Can I become an anti-royalist?" When Gail chuckled, Holly went on. "Down with the King. He nearly killed my sex life, too."

"You're horrible," laughed Gail.

Kissing her shoulder, Holly let go and sang out, "You love it."

She did. "God help me, I do."

"Atheist!"

Gail giggled. "Stop saying it like it's a dirty word!" Religion had been much of a non-topic for them. Pecks were, in general, atheists by necessity. People who lived their lives in service often only believed in god when they were being shot at. But a Peck was raised to know that there was no higher power who would save you. And Gail knew not even her name could save her.

"Change your boots and hit a ball with me. I promise it'll make you feel better." Holly was already changing her work shirt for something more comfortable. Like Gail's Fifteen Division softball jersey.

Frowning, Gail changed her shoes. "It's only taken us 20 years, but you're wearing my clothes."

Her wife looked down and then turned to try and see her back in the mirror. It said G. Peck rather clearly with the number fifteen. "It was bound to happen," she sighed dramatically.

* * *

It was actually nice that her moms weren't there. On the other hand, Uncle Steve was holding court with the Old Guard in the back. When Vivian went to pick up the next round, her uncle waved her over.

"Pitchers of beer, huh?"

She looked at the two in her hands. "I'm sure you don't remember this long ago, but they don't pay us that much."

Her aunt Traci chortled. "You deserved that, Steve." Then to Vivian, "I'm hearing good things."

Vivian blushed a little. "Thanks. I think I'm doing okay."

"Just wait till you work a week on the desk," sighed Traci. "What are your folks up to?"

"Shenanigans, no doubt," smirked Vivian. "You guys coming by for Sunday dinner?"

Steve nodded. "We are. This lovely case you dumped in my lap will be a long unravel." When Vivian opened her mouth, her uncle went on. "No, I will not be requesting you to work patrol on it."

She shrugged. "It was worth a try."

"She is so like her mother," chortled Traci. "Pick Peck, right?"

"A little nepotism's healthy," she grinned back. Her rookie class shouted at her to bring the beer. "Gotta go. We're trying to figure out who had the best week."

"You'll win," Steve declared, lifting his bottle.

She probably would if she told them her whole week. Vivian shrugged again and went back to her class' table. "Beers. Rich, next round is you."

"You took forever, Peck!" But Rich poured drinks for everyone. "What'd the Cougar want?"

Vivian gagged. "Okay, see the pale guy next to her? That's her husband."

The conversation quickly went away from that, however, as Christian pulled out Trivia Cards. Memories of Dov playing that with her mothers came to mind and Vivian grinned, joining in. Between rounds, the others bragged about their first week.

Christian, stuck on desk duty, talked about how his great adventure was cleaning up vomit. Rich was also on desk, and had basically run errands and gotten drinks for Noelle all week. Jenny had worked in processing and had an entertaining issue with a woman arrested for holding. No one wanted the details on that one.

However that meant Lara and Viv, who were actually out in the field, had the most interesting weeks. They'd worked the same cases, Lara with Andy, and Lara had nothing but praise for Andy. "McNally's cool, you know? She's like, she's real. She knows the city, too."

As they talked, Vivian leaned back and scanned the room. Neither Andy nor Nick were around. "What about you, Peck? Heard you and Collins got the druggies," asked Jenny excitedly.

"Oh, not my case. It's the Ds." Vivian gestured over at Steve's table. "McNally gave me the collar anyway."

Lara snorted. "Peck, I've been working with McNally all week. She's good, but she doesn't give anyone anything. Besides, I heard she totally caught a shooter her first week."

Deciding not to tell the story about how Andy had also blown Sam's cover, Vivian just nodded. "It's true."

"Yeah?" Rich frowned. "Your Pecks tell you?" Vivian just shrugged and smiled. Everyone and their mother had told her that story. Including Andy's mom who'd shown up a couple times since.

With a loud sigh, Lara leaned around Vivian to look at the various old guard. "I thought I was ready for all this, but now that we're out there, I feel like I don't know anything."

Vivian toyed with her pint glass. "We don't. That's what U- That's what Sgt. Epstein said, didn't he? Nothing prepares us for the real world, so serve, protect, and don't screw up."

"Did you memorize it?" Rich looked suspicious.

She had, but only because she heard Dov and Oliver practice it a million times. "Point is, guys, we're going to make mistakes, we don't know anything. But our TOs have our backs. They're going to make is not embarrass them or Fifteen."

The table seemed to accept this. "How was your week, Peck?" Jenny waved the score card. "The collar's worth five."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm not playing that. You guys have fun."

"Too big for it?" Rich was at his most annoying dude-bro ness. "Don't feel like lowering your standards to compete?"

The truth was that there was only one person Vivian felt like she was competing against, and it was herself. "Whatever, Rich." She finished her beer. "I'm out. See you guys Monday."

When she got outside, Vivian realized she wasn't sure how best to get home. Letting Gail drive her had seemed like a great idea at the start. She could take a cab, but like tomatoes, she just tended to avoid them in general. She wasn't allergic, but if you grew up with someone who was, you got used to avoiding.

Looking up at the sky, her thoughts drifted back to drugs. The Rivers idiots were back to smuggling, which was what Steve had been hunting them down for years ago. But why the hell were they calling themselves Three Rivers. Steve didn't seem all that worried about it, nor did Gail, but it niggled at Vivian's mind.

You gave a group a name that made sense.

Toronto was the Nine Rivers City. That would have made more sense. The Don River Triad was the only three river area she could think of. So maybe they started there? Would that give them a lead on where the drugs were really from? Since Steve had implied they didn't really know.

The Penny doors swung again, interrupting her thoughts. "Hey, Junior Peck."

She knew the voice. "Hi, Duncan."

"That's Officer Moore."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Moore." She alone of the new crop knew his nickname, and held onto it in her pocket. "Got a hot date tonight?"

"Nah, my folks are having a politico swing tomorrow, and I gotta go help set up."

"Sounds like fun. Uncle Al running for office?"

"Think so." He stretched. "Night."

Vivian raised her hand to wave and then asked, "Hey, Duncan? Can you give me a lift?"

* * *

The door to Vivian's room was open a crack. So, even though it was six AM on a Saturday, and her grumpy wife was surly about getting up at all, let alone that early and for a goddamned run, Holly tapped her knuckles to Vivian's door. "You make it home?"

Her daughter's head, now two and half inches over Holly's 5'9", popped out. "Is Mom coming?"

"Begrudgingly," smiled Holly.

"I'll be down in five." The door closed and Holly shook her head.

Gail was in the hallway, holding her shoes. "I hate you all," she sighed, stomping down the stairs in her running gear.

But they did all run. As much as Gail hated it in the morning, or at all, she knew she had to since her job was mostly a desk gig. Vivian, on the other hand, could and did suicide drills with ETF because she found them fun. Even Holly had trouble with the fact that their child was a jock.

As the finished their usual route, Vivian said she was going to do one more and sped off.

"That is really disturbing me," muttered Holly.

"You? You used to run marathons when I met you," teased Gail as she turned on the hose.

Holly had ratcheted down to 5ks now, running the annual police one with Gail (and the pride one without, because Gail claimed to be allergic to more than one a year). "Yeah, but our kid is ... Honey, you remember how you used to tease me for being butch?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Viv is butch."

Gail snorted, her hair wet from the hose. "Viv's a jock. Which is hilarious, because she's also an awkward nerd and a bitchy ice princess. Come on, I'll make breakfast."

With perfect timing, Vivian came in the side door on her phone just as Gail served up food. "Thanks, Uncle Steve, you're the best. See you tomorrow." Viv tossed the phone onto the counter. "I take it back, Mom, you are the best."

"Hear that, Stewart? I'm the best."

Holly rolled her eyes and kissed Gail's cheek. "I'll thank you privately later," she whispered. "Okay, honey. What's up with you and Uncle Steve?"

"I came up with a theory last night. About the Three Rivers gang," smiled Vivian.

Much to Holly's surprise, Gail scowled. "No. No. You are a rookie, you have been in blue for five days. You aren't allowed theories and plans. That's how you end up pulling a McNally."

Vivian frowned. "Just about the name, Mom. I'm not going to ask Nick to go check it out."

"You better not," scowled Gail. "Look, you have one job, kid. Serve, protect, and don't fuck up."

That was three things, mused Holly, but she didn't say it aloud. Her wife was adamant about their daughter not getting mired in the depth of police work. She listened to Gail argue that Vivian was a rookie, while Vivian protested she had more policing background than anyone there, and besides, she was just doing research. Finally they agreed that if Steve said to back off, Vivian backed off.

Sunday dinner, with Steve and Elaine and Traci, meant that the subject came up again. The last five years of her life had been filled with this. Around their fourth year together, Gail had stopped bringing up work casually at dinner. They did sometimes talk about cases they were stuck on, but they'd found a grove where the crimes from the outside world, the pain and agony, didn't come home with them. But never had Gail gushed about guns, which she knew Holly wasn't a fan of, or how she boxed a car, or anything really about the technical aspects of being a cop. That was something outside, something Gail didn't want to bring Holly into.

And then their kid announced what she wanted to be and Holly found out exactly what 'real' Peck dinners were like. There was technical talk about guns, like which ones shot best in which situations, and what rifles did best at crowd control. Elaine told stories about how she'd used a bean-bag shot gun once to take out a criminal. Steve talked about what kind of guns shot through vests and Holly felt queasy hearing about it.

That had been the last time Gail allowed it at the table. After that, the talk about weapons was done without Holly around because, as Gail pointed out, it was her damn house. Then she apologized to Holly about it. She had, Gail explained, somewhat forgotten in the fifteen years since she'd been to the Peck Dinners of old, what they talked about when they weren't arguing or putting each other down.

Not long after that, Vivian also apologized. She hadn't realized how much Holly didn't like guns. And really, Holly knew that was a bit her fault. She had been taking Vivian shooting all those years, after all. Vivian asked her why, and Holly admitted it was simply because it meant so much to the girl.

Being a parent was very odd sometimes. You did things you hated or had no interest in, just because the kid did. Gail had taken Vivian to sports games, after all, and even helped her practice.

That night was pretty mild. In fact, it reminded Holly of dinners with John and Rachel, back when they'd been an item, talking about cases. Vivian did have an idea and it wasn't terrible. Her simple idea was that the gang's name came from where the Don River split out into three branches, and that's where they must have started. Steve allowed as it wasn't terrible, but unlikely to help at the time.

And then Steve told Vivian to concentrate on her job.

Gail swore she hadn't asked him to say it.

The next week, Vivian was on desk duty. It was something Holly knew Gail had no hand in, since everyone was rotating through people, and Nick came by to complain about Rich being a douche. Vivian didn't complain, saying it gave her time to do some research and studying, which included filing a request to bring her gun home. Pending approval from Holly.

"Why do I have the deciding vote? You have all your guns here," she complained to Gail.

"My guns predated us dating," Gail said as she rubbed lotion into Holly's back.

"And you're okay with it?" Holly hissed. "A little lower on the left..."

Obligingly, Gail applied more pressure. Oh god that felt good. "Mom will get her a small gun safe. She can lock up her badge in there." Gail's fingers were easing all the aches from a four hour autopsy out of her back. It was glorious.

"Why do you lock up your badges?"

"So people can't run around and pretend to be cops." The thumbs pushed up her spine. "I don't see anything wrong with it, but it's normal in my world."

Holly sighed. "It's normal in mine too now," she realized grimly.

The hands stopped. Gail sighed loudly. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Reaching back, Holly found Gail's leg. "I'm okay with it, Gail. She's allowed to make her own choices and live her own life." Gail lay down along side her, gently massaging Holly's shoulder. "She's got that theory..."

Gail groaned. "Nope. Nope. She's a _rookie_ , Holly. She's not allowed to have theories or ideas. She listens to her TOs, she works hard, she learns. In a couple years, she can have an opinion." Gail flopped onto her back and covered her face.

Holly smiled and sat up, pulling on her night shirt. "She can have one at home with her Mom," she pointed out. Her wife grunted. "Come on, be honest. How's she doing?"

"With the exception of Andy and Nick, rookies don't do much their first weeks."

They settled under the blankets. "You had the desk?"

"Yeah, me and Dov." Gail settled around Holly, an arm across her waist. "Thanks for putting up with us."

"There are benefits. I haven't had a speeding ticket in twenty years."

* * *

Vivian twirled her pen as she listened to the phone. "No, ma'am, it's not illegal for a delivery van to do that." She closed her eyes. "Well, ma'am, I'm pretty sure you'd want your Amazon packages- no, no ma'am, I'm not spying on you. You've called us ten times about missing packages that your neighbor brought in for you... Yes, ma'am, I have access to your ... " Vivian eyed the phone as the lady hung up. "Have a nice day," she grumbled and dropped the phone back into the cradle. "Crap, I'm getting cauliflower ear."

Her desk cohort, Jenny, smirked. "They can't all be collars and drug busts."

As soon as the whole story had made the rounds, Vivian found herself being somewhat hassled by Jenny, who had decided she was making Vivian her personal project. And she was going to get Vivian to hang out with them and play their stupid points game. "I told you, I don't care."

"Don't you have ambitions?"

"Sure," smiled Vivian. "But playing who's better is not something I think will help me. Or you."

"I need a rookie!" The voice from the back was Noelle's.

Jenny and Vivian quickly played rock-paper-scissors. "Damn it, how can you always win that game," snarled Jenny as Vivian's rock beat her scissors.

"You have a tell." Rapping the desk, Vivian trotted back to the group of people. "Noelle- Inspector Williams."

Noelle looked up, amused. She wasn't, officially, in charge of the TOs, but not a single rookie would question her. She was their Inspector. "No coffee, Peck?"

Vivian blinked. "Coffee?"

"The last Peck rookie brought me coffee," teased Noelle. That meant Gail. It was weird to think of Noelle having been Gail's TO. "This one's perfect, detective. She's already done a field test."

The detective smiled and Vivian couldn't help but grin back at Chloe Price. That's the kind of person she was. "Why am I not surprised... Now, I need you to help me play this guy."

"Yes, ma'am."

Noelle shook her head. "You are so earnest, Vivian. I swear it's like having Dov back again. Try so damn hard... Okay, you do what Detective Price asks. Don't screw up. And don't show initiative."

Well that was weird. "I'm sorry... _Don't_ show initiative?"

"I need a nervous rookie to make this take longer than it might," explained Chloe. "Can you do any patented Stewart Nervous Babble?"

Did everyone know Holly did that? "Yes, ma'am. Never done it on command..."

Chloe slapped her shoulder. "First time for everything, Peck. Come on."

Vivian struggled to keep a smile on her face. Her job was simple. Come with Chloe to interrogation, give a couple field tests. It didn't matter that they wouldn't hold up in court, they were just trying to demonstrate how they knew. But Vivian had to keep herself looking nervous (no problem) and babble a little. Make it take at least twenty minutes, Chloe said. The test was meant to be fast, so Vivian stalled by telling the crook about her mother.

Actually she explained how her mom's side of the family was all scientists, and they all loved experiments and rockets and things like that. Holly's cousin the rocket scientist was actually Gail's favorite, since he brought over the best fireworks. But she did manage to babble on command, on demand, and make the criminals insanely skittish and nervous. Once the test was done, she followed Chloe back out.

"Okay, now we let 'em stew," smiled Chloe. "Good job."

"Thanks," grinned Vivian. "He's not on anything."

"Oh I know," nodded the perky red head. "He's a runner, though. And I need him as off kilter to try and get some information. I'm not as good as breaking people by waiting as Gail is."

That was still weird. Gail had no patience, at all, and yet when it came to cracking perps she was the king of waiting them out. "Does it really work?"

"Sometimes." Chloe seemed unconcerned. "Off you go."

Vivian knew the dismissal meant she'd probably not learn anything more about the case. It was the only interesting part about desk duty. Rarely, if ever, did anyone bring anything cool to front desk. Except for Oliver. Just as shift was ending and Vivian was handing off her spot to someone else, she heard his voice. "Officer Peck!"

Vivian turned and grinned. "Hey, Ollie. Jenny, buzz him in will you?"

Jenny eyed her. "Who's that?"

"Only Fifteen's greatest Inspector in the history of, oh, ever. Oliver Shaw, Jenny Aronson."

Happily extending his hand over the desk, Oliver smiled. "Pleased to meet you, rookie. And if that's what my Peckling says about me, listen to everything she says."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Really? Peckling? Still?"

"Gotta tell you apart from Keystone, Petulant, Nash, and Wet." The fact that her cousin who wanted in on the marine unit was 'wet Peck' would be used against him later.

They let Oliver in and he quickly hugged Vivian. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Uncle Ollie?"

He chuckled. "I'm here to see Noelle. She still in?"

"She's in the downstairs office. D- Sgt. Epstein's at the big building today." Vivian navigated through the desks.

"Good, good. You're done? Want to buy your uncle a drink after?"

"I'm stuck waiting on my ride," she shrugged.

"Aaaaah, Peck Force One flies again? It's a good thing, Peckling. This? That's bonding."

"I know. Just means I'm always bumming rides home."

He grinned at her in that easy, happy way that Oliver always smiled. And reached to her waist. Viv clapped her elbow to her side and glowered. From the stairs someone laughed. "Oliver, do you ever give up? She's not even wearing a gun!"

"Bah, I could always do that to you, darlin.'" Oliver bounced up the stairs and hugged Traci tight. "You never come by anymore. What's up with that? Too big missy lead D?"

"Yes," laughed Traci.

They walked into Dov's office where Noelle laughed to see them and Vivian shook her head, too amused at the trio. As she started to change in the locker room, Jenny and Lara sat down on either side of her. "Sooooooo." Lara was grinning.

"So?" Vivian frowned and kicked her shoes into her locker.

"Sooooo how do you get all chummy with Oliver Shaw?" Lara leaned into Vivian and bumped her shoulder.

Frowning more, Vivian squirmed. "Don't do that."

" _He_ , like, hugged you," pointed out Jenny.

"He's, like, my uncle," grumbled Vivian. "It's different."

Jenny kept on, "You don't hug _anyone_."

"I hug my moms." The plural seemed to skip their brains as her cohorts gave her a little room and they all changed for end of shift, talking about how Viv was lucky to know all those people.

Leaving in a rush, because she had a date, Jenny breezed out faster than Vivian even changed her pants. "That girl," muttered Lara. "She's had a different boy every night!"

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "She did that at the academy too."

"She did?" Lara grinned. "Okay, Peck, how'd you know?"

"We were neighbors." She also knew Jenny had slept with one of the instructors. Traci admitted she had as well, telling Vivian that was how she met Jerry originally. All the girls had their own dorm rooms. Actually, almost everyone did. Gail had been complaining for years about the drop off in recruits.

Lara grinned evilly. "You're my new best friend. Do you know about the guys?"

Waggling a hand, Vivian pulled on a clean shirt and buttoned it up. "Please just don't tell me you find Rich hot. I might gag."

They both laughed. "God no, but Christian... He's adorable."

Vivian smirked. "He's single. But I would avoid dating at work."

With a big sigh, Lara changed her shoes. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." Then she asked, "Wait, he's single?"

"Yeah, he had a girl back in Timmins, but he broke up when he went to college."

Lara stared at her. "You and Christian...?"

Vivian blinked. "What? Oh no, hell no." She laughed. "He's like a brother." She and Christian had been text-buddies since Chris Diaz's funeral, so she had been witness (digitally) to his serious high school girl and their breakup. He really was like a brother, and having him at the academy had been a wonderful thing.

"Oh. Cause... You guys are all ... He drives you back from the Penny."

There were two ways to explain it. One way involved talking about funerals and death and pain. The other was relatively simple. "Yeah, I'm a lesbian, so that ain't happening."

Lara blinked. Then she grinned. "Please tell me no one knows. We can have _so_ much fun with Rich."

Vivian chuckled and shook her head. "No thanks. I don't think I could stomach him hitting on me." She closed her locker and locked it.

"Good point. He hit on me. It was gross." Lara stomped her shoes into place. "You single?"

Hitching her bag to her shoulder, Vivian smiled. "Not looking." Lara sighed but, before she could speak Vivian went on. "See. I know we're rookies. We don't get to follow cases or solve crimes or wipe our asses without our TOs say so. But damn if it's not annoying. They've got no idea about the Three Rivers gang, how they're getting the drugs in, and it's a dead end. It's annoying."

"Okay, how have I never heard you talk more than a couple sentences before?"

"I cultivate an air of introspection."

Her classmate was quiet. "This means a lot to you. This job."

"Yeah. This is... This is the only thing I ever really wanted to be."

Lara sighed. "Yeah." That seemed to be all, so Vivian turned to go. "Hey, Peck? Don't forget we're supposed to be people. Cops, yeah, but people."

She paused at the doorway. "Thanks, Volk. I'll keep that in mind."

But Lara had a point. It was the same point her moms had. Be the girl, not the job. That was funny to say to a Peck, but it was true. She'd have to figure that out, starting tonight. Tonight was a drink with Oliver.

* * *


	2. 01.02 Poison Pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a drug theft at a marijuana dispensary, but is the Mary Jane the target after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, due to chapter length and plot complexity, updates are not going to be weekly ... It's possibly going to every two or three weeks. Right now I'm trying to sort out how often I can post these long chapters.

That was not who Gail expected to see at the Penny. But, walking in with John and Steve, they all three paused at the sight of Olivia Best standing at the bar, talking to Vivian.

"When the hell did they get old enough to drink?" Steve, clearly feeling his age, grumbled.

"This will not end well," noted John.

"I need a drink," Gail decided, and pushed through her partner-cum-sergeant and brother to get to their regular table, where Traci sat. "How long has the standoff been going on?" She raised a hand to the bartender who nodded. Her regular drink was on its way.

Traci sipped her wine. "About ten minutes. Vivian's very good about not moving her lips much."

Part of Gail was pleased to see her daughter being aware she was being spied on. Gail watched her daughter shake her head firmly. "I thought Liv was still in Montréal."

"Noelle told me she got back today. Landed some amazing grad program in San Diego she transfers to UCSD this fall." Traci glanced over and shook her head a little.

That made some sense. "So she's come by to say hey and screw with Viv," grumbled Steve as he sat down, Gail's drink in hand. As always, he was his niece's staunch defender.

"Steve. Come on. It's a huge thing." Gail sipped her beer.

The two had not broken up well, and really it was Vivian's fault. They'd done long distance alright for the first part of the year, all the way up to Christmas. Then, for spring break, Vivian drove out to see Olivia, and that was where it went to hell.

Very clearly, Gail remembered the eventual arrival of a child who had not slept more than five hours in six days. The weird texts from Olivia had confused everyone. Then Vivian came home and slept for over 24 hours, becoming sullen and withdrawn, blaming Gail for things, and crying.

All because her kid couldn't sleep over at someone else's place.

Nothing made Gail angrier than knowing the world had done that to her baby girl. The fact that Vivian's own father had left her with a fear that something horrible would happen if she wasn't home was agonizing. And there was nothing Gail could do to make it better.

Worst of all, for Viv and Liv's relationship, Vivian wouldn't (or couldn't) tell her best friend why she wasn't able to sleep. Apparently exhaustion kicked in after three days and Vivian slept enough to be safe to drive home. But that shattered their dating life, and to some degree their friendship as well.

Her poor kid.

Gail didn't blame Olivia for much of it. They were eighteen and stupid. Of course, the fact that they hadn't hooked up from time to time after in the summers impressed Gail a little. Hadn't she done that with Nick? It would have convenient, but it did tend to stifle emotional growth a little. For all Vivian was disturbingly mature, she had her blind spots, and relationships were definitely one. But you couldn't live everything for your kid. At least that aspect of her daughter's 'love life' wasn't totally screwed up. It probably helped that Vivian did move on and date a few girls, like Skye and Pia.

"How bad was their breakup?" John eased into the seat beside Gail and handed over her drink.

"Weird. Not as nasty as me and Nick, or me and Holly... Or me and Chris." Gail eyed her partner. "Shut up."

"Fine. I just like your kid. She's... You know sometimes I look at her and I think maybe I shoulda had kids."

"You're a good uncle," she mused.

John lifted his glass. "Thank you."

They watched Vivian shake her head and go back to the table with her fellow rookies. Olivia stayed at the bar for a moment before turning around to go. "Fuck that," sighed Gail. She raised her voice. "Hey, short stuff. Not gonna say hi?"

Olivia started. "Aunt Gail!" With a momentary glance back to Vivian, who had her back to the bar, Liv crossed the room and smiled. "I didn't think you'd be here."

"We closed a good case today." Gail gestured at a seat.

"Better not. Don't want to make Viv's day absolute ass."

Well. That was promising. "How long you in town for?"

"Few months. I have a lot to do before I move into my new place."

"Hell of a move," remarked Steve. "You're going to be awesome, Little Best."

Olivia blushed. "Thanks. I should go, though." She hesitated and Gail nodded.

"I need some air. Come on, kid." She put her beer down and walked with Olivia outside. This would be the perfect moment to light a cigarette. No one smoked anymore. "So?"

The rambunctious teenager Gail had watched grow up hunched her shoulders. "How's Viv really doing?"

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Real good. Great. She pulled a collar, first day out." The last Peck to do that had been Elaine, really, and she hadn't been a Peck back then. "She's still not talking to you?"

"Not much, no."

"Waylaying her at the Penny might not have been the best thing."

Liv sighed. "I know. But it was that or your house, and I kinda think that's worse."

Alright, she had a point. "She's not mad at you, Liv."

"Oh. I know. I just miss my friend, Viv. You know? I wish I could talk to her like we used to."

The two used to be up all night on the phone, until Holly threatened to install a cell phone blocker. And here was Olivia, moving across the continent to a new job and a new life. She was probably scared to death. "I'll talk to her," sighed Gail.

Liv nodded. "Just. Just tell her I want to be friends?"

They hadn't really been friends since they broke up, though. Vivian was more like Holly in that regard. The secret to Gail's ability to remain friends with her ex's was that she just didn't care if they were annoyed with her. It was about the same as dating them frankly.

"Sure," promised Gail. "How you getting home?"

"Taxi." Olivia hesitated and then gave Gail a quick hug before walking off.

Ugh, kids. Maybe Holly would have some ideas on how to approach it.

* * *

Vivian hated shitty days.

Days like that, the crap days where you wanted to just go back to bed and be ten and have your moms bring you breakfast and maybe play Mario Kart, those shitty days always started with idiots like Rich being a dick.

They were stationed together in a van, doing surveillance on a drug drop. It was a wired site with rookies and young cops standing point. All they had to do was sit in a van and alert the actual cops to anyone suspicious. Because a windowless van wasn't weird at all.

Before they'd gotten in the van, Rich had started in on Viv for taking a piss. She remembered Traci's story about having to pee when she did van duty and did not want a repeat. But Rich, as the owner of a penis, had to be a total asshole when it came to Vivian being a little late to the van. So she got shit for that too.

The shittier thing was that she knew she was in the van with Rich because Christian had threatened to punch him, and Rich hit on both Jenny and Lara at the Penny. So the lesbian was safe. She just didn't like him as a person and found herself thinking uncharitable thoughts. Like 'if Rich got stabbed, maybe he'd be nicer.' Or even 'would Moms suspect me if I beaned him with my nightstick?'

Answers? No and yes. Holly always knew.

"There's a suspicious guy," muttered Rich, reaching for the radio. Vivian smacked his hand with her stick, not even looking. "Ow! Damnit!"

"Rich, if we clutter up the airwaves, we'll get dinged. Shut up. It's just a hipster going into the weed shop." Maybe he'd be less of an ass if he tried weed, thought Vivian absently.

"Yeah but-"

"Rich, seriously. Caucasian male, red-brown hair, fuck tonne of pomade and a goddamned twirled mustache. Skinny blue jeans, cuffs rolled up, black sneakers, dark shirt. Suspenders. Hip. Ster."

That shut him up for a moment. "What if they sell more than weed?"

"Not worth their license," she muttered.

The radio cracked to life. "Hanford, Peck, eyes on the black SUV. License reads charlie, tango, niner, zed, niner, papa. Copy?"

Vivian picked up the radio. "Copy, Fifteen. Gas guzzler in sight. Driver and shotgun staying with the vehicle. Backseat, both doors open. Eyes on our guy and his muscle."

"Copy, Peck. Hanford, watch the guys to the door. Peck, stay on the car."

The voice was a detective she knew from drugs. One of Chloe's minions. "Copy, sir." She shifted and studied the car, taking notes without looking down. Gail had suggested she practice that. Watch TV and take notes at the same time.

"Man, I wish we were in the building," grumbled Rich.

Inside were Lara and Christian. Jenny was back at the station. Vivian settled down on her seat. "We have a better vantage point."

Rich grumbled and they fell silent. The guys in the car were more concerned with their phones. "How long have they been in there?" Glancing at her watch, Vivian gave him the time. "Ten minutes? Crap, I need to pee."

Vindication. "Use a bottle," she grinned, evilly. She knew her smile was a Peck smile. It was that smile Gail got that made Holly roll her eyes and everyone else run in fear.

"Don't look," he ordered and Vivian gagged as she heard his zipper go down.

"Trust me, not looking." She eyed the SUV again. They were getting out. "Fifteen, driver is on the move."

The radio crackled. "Where's he going?"

"Weed shop."

There was a pause. "Say again, Peck?"

"Repeat, the driver went into the medical marijuana dispensary." Vivian was so sure there was laughter going on at Fifteen right then and she sighed. But before the detective could make a joke about how the driver needs a little Mary Jane, she and Rich heard it.

A gun.

One-two, one-two-three.

The radio crackled to life. "Shots fired!" That was Christian, scared shitless, and Vivian couldn't blame him.

The Ds were on the wire in a second. "Someone give me eyes on the shooter."

Rich grabbed the radio. "No eyes. I got the ... Uh, I got the drug dealers. They're leaving the building, no guns drawn."

That comment kicked Vivian's memory. The driver had been unarmed. The other guy in the car was shouting at him. "Holy shit, Rich!" The man tossed the radio over and Vivian thumbed it on. "Driver is unarmed, running out of the dispensary. They're all going, do we follow or-"

"Stay there." That was McNally. Oh thank god. Someone was in charge. "Peck, did the shots come from the dispensary?"

In the background, Vivian heard someone say that she couldn't know that. Except she did. It was a game Elaine liked to play. What did she see? What did she hear? She was looking at the car. The birds on the tree moved. Her eyes snapped to the dispensary. "I think so, ma'am."

"1504, they've got the good, follow the car. McNally, grab the van rooks. Channel 18."

And the radio went dead. "Are we going in?" Rich looked scared.

"Zip your fly," muttered Vivian, pulling her vest snug. Thank god they wore vests. Stories about how they didn't always wear vests, or how they didn't have cameras, came to mind. Vivian flipped her radio to 18 and checked in, quickly hearing McNally order them out of the van.

"We don't have guns, Peck," hissed Rich.

Grimly, Vivian flipped on her camera and took her baton off her belt. "Be cool, Hanford."

McNally pulled up in 1509. "Anyone else come out?" They shook their heads. "Back exit's quiet too." She tapped her radio. "Duncan, hear anything?"

"No, Boss," said the man. Vivian struggled to think of dorky, idiot, Duncan as a TO. She saw him so much growing up, at dinners with Uncle Al, that he was just a dumb cousin. "Door's chained and bolted from the outside. That ain't legal is it?"

It most certainly was not legal. McNally nodded. "Hanford, Peck, follow me." The seasoned officer pounded on the door. "This is the Police. We're coming in."

No reply. That wasn't good. McNally pushed the door open keeping to the side. They were quiet. The room was incredible open. There was barely any place to hide, but they did sweep the room. At least until Rich shrieked.

Both Andy and Vivian rushed over, Vivian holding her baton and feeling like an idiot. "Hanford, what is it?"

"They're dead!"

"They?" Andy blinked and looked down. "Well hell."

Vivian leaned over. She towered almost six inches over McNally, something Gail had gleefully pointed out when Vivian sprouted, so it was easy to look over her shoulder. Indeed, they was the right word. A man holding a gun was dead, as was a man with bullet holes in him. "Whoops."

"Peck, check the gun."

"Yes'm." She snapped her baton back to size and hooked it on her belt. Then she pulled a rubber glove out of her pocket and put it on. "Barrel's warm." She glanced at McNally who nodded. Right. Checking the pulse of each man, she shook her head. "Dead. Recently."

Rich, who had started to calm down, blustered, "How the hell can you know that?"

But McNally just nodded. Of course she knew why Vivian knew more about dead bodies. "You good sticking with them while Soprano and I clear the store?"

Vivian smiled. "Yeah, I'm good, McNally."

She didn't touch the bodies any more, carefully taking off her glove and folding it in on itself. Her talk at the academy had been on medical jurisprudence, making Gail laugh hysterically, but really growing up with Holly meant know one knew the sanctity of a crime scene better. And concentrating on that was a hell of a lot better than thinking about how Liv wanted to talk.

They cleared the rest of the scene and called in forensics, which took up the rest of the day. By the time they got done, it was well after lunch so Andy let them pick a place for lunch. Waiting in line for 'the best gyros ever, according to Oliver,' Vivian pulled out her phone and eyed the messages.

"Don't you have a smart watch?" Rich held out a bottle of vitamin water.

"I do," confirmed Vivian, absently checking the purely functional watch she wore. It was from Gail's ten-year ceremony. And it was almost two pm. She texted Holly to tell her about the case.

"Why aren't you wearing it?"

Vivian looked up. "Why don't I wear an expensive half-toy watch while in uniform? Why don't I wear earrings or a necklace?"

Predictably, Rich didn't get it. "You and Christian have the same watch as McNally."

Okay, so he was a little perceptive. "Popular watch," she shrugged, deferring the question. Christian wore Chris Diaz's watch, which had been Vivian's idea. She thought he might want something to remember the man by.

"You're just full of secrets, Peck," muttered Rich.

Smiling, Vivian room the box of food from the clerk. "Thanks." She slipped him a tip and headed back to the van.

At the station, they ate with Andy and Duncan, both of whom were happy to chat about the case. The autopsy would be tomorrow and the techs had the guns, but right now they had a theory that the guy with the gun shot the owner, and then... Something killed him. Which Andy joked wasn't a theory as much as a fact with little information.

"What about the guys we were supposed to be watching? Anton Hill's people?" Rich swirled a fry in the tzitziki sauce. "They saw what went down."

"The driver?" Andy nodded. "Yeah. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" She shook her head. "They got away."

Vivian sighed. Who told her police work was glamorous?

* * *

Glancing at the names on the report, Holly did a double take. Peck, V. It was officially weird and disconcerting. She looked at the other names and felt a little better. McNally and Moore, or as Gail still called them after decades, the Fuck Up Twins. Ugh. Where was Nick? Having him TO their baby girl was ... Well it was a little better. Not much.

Her watch buzzed and Holly glanced at the message from her daughter.

_Found two DBs! Medical Jurisprudence!_

Holly snorted a laugh. That was her kid alright. Shaking her head, Holly read the preliminary field report. They'd heard shots fired, cleared the scene, found two dead bodies. One shot, one mystery. Well that was interesting.

The case was in the hands of Wanda, her erstwhile cougar hunting pathologist, but one of the fun things about being the boss was that Holly could go down and check out whatever anyone was working on. And today that meant she was going to see what this mystery death was all about. "Katie, I'll be downstairs," she told her secretary.

"Anything interesting?" Katie had been the downstairs secretary for years. When Holly made assistant ME, she brought Katie along. Sadly Katie was planning to move to Manitoba soon.

"GSW and a mystery."

"Oh, and you love a good mystery, boss," smiled the woman behind the desk. "I'll take messages unless it's important."

"Thank you very much," sang Holly and she took the elevators down.

Wanda was still going over the papers when Holly arrived. "Hey, Boss. Here for the mystery?"

Grinning, Holly shrugged. "I love me a good mystery. Is ballistics running the bullet?"

"Yep. Caliber and type match. Marco'll have the full results tomorrow." Wanda didn't bother to ask if Holly wanted to see the bodies, she just kicked away from her desk and went with Holly to the morgue. "Will the rookies come down for the autopsy?"

"Probably. It's about time." Holly watched Wanda pull out the first body. "McNally's the TO in charge of this case, I'll suggest it to her." They looked at the gunshots. "Huh. That's interesting."

"Yeah, close range. There's stippling."

Holly leaned in and sniffed. "Whoooof. That's a lot of weed."

"ID says he ran the shop," noted Wanda, and she pulled open the second one. "This guy, though. No idea, no info, prints were a negative."

Zipping up the owner and tucking him away, Holly eyed the mystery man. "You swab his mouth? That could be bile."

"Cop on the scene didn't mention it." Wanda held up her iPad.

Holly had skimmed the report, but she didn't have Gail's recall ability. "We don't have their reports yet."

And Wanda snorted. "We have two. McNally and Peck put theirs in already."

"Peck," laughed Holly. "Okay, what did my kid say?"

Wanda edited as she read, "She checked the gun and the pulse. John Doe was face down holding the gun, which was warm. No blood pool, no wet... Hey, she took a photo."

It was impossible not to grin. "Decent photo."

"How the hell is she a cop?" Wanda shook her head. "Wasn't it just yesterday I met her after embarrassing the hell out of myself?"

Now it was funny. Then it had been awkward as fuck. "No, yesterday she was seven and sleeping on the couch with Gail," sighed Holly. "Of course, I was also in my forties."

Wanda grinned. "Can't have everything. I was going to check him out tomorrow."

"That's good." They set up the time and Holly pulled out her phone to call Dov, suggesting he let the rookies come down for an autopsy. "They found them, after all."

The sergeant laughed. "Didn't Duncan pass out?"

"Maybe," grinned Holly.

"Are you doing the autopsy?"

"No, Dr. Ury is. I think it _might_ be inappropriate to do the first one for my own kid."

Dov made a thoughtful sound. "Okay, they'll get Duncan, though. I need Andy to find our witness."

"That would be good," agreed Holly. That was quickly sorted, and Holly texted Gail to warn her about baby's first autopsy. She remembered to tell Gail that she wasn't allowed to come.

_You're no fun._

Holly laughed as she went back to the elevator, texting Gail that she was incredibly fun. Her wife replied that Holly was annoying. But then Gail had an idea.

_$20 says the Monkey asks us about drugs._

Interesting idea. Holly thumbed her reply.

_By the end of the case._

Gail one upped her.

_Please. Tonight._

That was a deal, and Holly sent the shaking hands emoji.

As Vivian pulled out plates that night, of course she asked, "Moms, have you done drugs?"

Without looking, Gail held out a hand to Holly. "Pay up."

Holly rolled her eyes. Of course Gail had put money that Vivian would ask about it before the day was over. And there they were. "I'll pay you later. Yes, Viv."

That surprised their daughter. "Wait, really?"

"How did I end up with a prude for a daughter?" Gail shook her head. "I smoked out a couple times."

Vivian grimaced. "Not weed. That's barely a drug, Moms."

Holly sighed and looked at Gail, beseechingly. Normally Gail might say Holly was on her own for explaining that one, but she smiled. "Well. Did _you_ blaze up, kiddo?"

"Yes," she sassed at Gail. "Liv and Matty and I tried it. Once. I didn't like it."

"Me neither," admitted Gail. "And I sure as hell am not trying it now, but apparently I've always been a little susceptible to drugs." She sighed dramatically. "At least I can drink."

"Which you barely do." Holly grinned and sliced the bread.

"You're totally avoiding the question. Okay, I want to guess." Vivian closed her eyes. "Shrooms."

Holly threw her hands up. "How the hell did you teach her _that_ , Gail?"

Smiling, Gail shook her head. "Didn't do it. Really? You did shrooms?"

Narrowing her eyes, Holly asked, "What's the statue of limitations on this?"

"I give you my word I won't press charges on my wife. That bed sucks alone." Gail held up her hand in a Boy Scout salute and cleared her throat. A moment later, Vivian mimicked the pose.

Holly sighed. "Fine. It was in college. I got paranoid and locked myself in a closet. Happy?"

Of course Gail teased her, "You sure that wasn't on weed?"

"Fuck you, Peck," snapped Holly. "You're not funny." But Gail's hands were on her hips, drawing her close. "I'm annoyed with you," she said softly. "You're not getting out of this by being cute." But Gail's lips were soft on her own. It was hard to be annoyed when she was being sweet.

"Sorry," whispered Gail, sincerely. "Monkey, no more asking Mom about her life as an addict. Also, Steve told you to lay off the case."

"I was thinking about the John Doe shooter, actually," admitted Vivian.

Holly pointed at Gail. "Did you tell her?"

But Gail's hands went up and Vivian looked confused. "Tell me what?"

Glaring at her wife without any malice, Holly kissed her cheek. "You and that frat boy get to see an autopsy tomorrow."

To her credit, Vivian just nodded. "I'm still sorry," she muttered and went to get the salad.

At sixteen, Vivian convinced one of the lab techs that letting her into the morgue was allowed since she was Holly's daughter. Then the girl filched a lab coat and snuck into an autopsy Rodney was performing for med students and sat in the back watching. Rodney had hauled her out as soon as he noticed her and called Holly. The tech had an ear full from it, as did Vivian, who only had the argument of "But Elaine said Mom and Steve saw one at my age!"

"You're still lucky Rodney decided not to file charges," noted Gail, amused. She had actually been fine if he had, but Holly asked Rodney to let her do unofficial community service. For two months, after school, Vivian helped do scut work at the lab. Then Rodney let her watch a real autopsy, after Gail and Holly signed papers allowing it.

That had been back when Holly had hope their kid would go into sciences and not policing. "I know," Viv sighed. "And I didn't tell anyone."

"I know," noted Holly. "Rodney said you just called him Dr. Frang the whole time he gave your class the lecture." No one called Rodney by his last name.

"So... Is it gauche to ask which autopsy?" Vivian looked a little sheepish.

Gail rolled her eyes and put the beef on their plates. Seared beef with a Peruvian purple potato salad with butter beans, something Gail had seen on a cooking show and decided to try. "Mystery guy. The gunshot's pretty cut and dried, I suspect."

Vivian made a 'huh' noise. "The driver wasn't armed when he went in."

"You sure about that?" Gail was rather conversational but Holly blinked. Her kid had seen this all go down?

"Yes, positive. He was in a tight shirt and hipster skinny jeans... Which I guess explains why he went into the store in the first place." She looked amused. "Who does that? Middle of your boss negotiating a massive drug deal, you go to buy your prescription weed?"

Gail laughed. "He's an idiot, too. We'll get him on camera and match the receipts."

"Ah crap, I know what I'm doing tomorrow," groaned Vivian.

"Rookies do scut work," smirked Gail, ruffling Viv's hair. "Right. Let's eat! This smells way too good!"

The current rule was no shop talk _at_ dinner. That started in order to not bring up things in front of Vivian as a child. Now it existed to stop pissing off Holly and remind Gail to turn off the Peck. It was just so easy for Gail, even now, to be that Peck.

So dinner turned to sports. Basketball, since it was spring, was on Vivian's mind, as well as hockey. Gail, who could care less, just smiled as she watched them talk. They talked about the news as well, something Gail joined in on more than Holly, and had most of a quiet, normal night. Except for Vivian's phone.

"You going to get that?" Holly gestured at her daughter's watch, which was blinking again.

"Not right now," replied the young girl.

Gail looked thoughtful. "It's okay to still be mad about it."

It? Holly eyed her wife. "Spill."

But Vivian answered. "It's Olivia. She's in town for a couple months before she moves to San Diego."

Holly blinked. "San Diego? One of you better unpack."

Gail cleared her throat, "She got the Salk scholarship. Liv's transferring to UCSD to study there, and she's got an in on a fellowship at Scrips when it's done."

"And she came by the Penny last night to say hello. She wants to be friends like we were." Vivian's eyes didn't leave her plate as she spoke. "Which is why she's been texting me."

Ah. "Gail," sighed Holly, turning to her wife. She didn't have to say it. She knew Gail understood that not everyone were friends after breaking up.

"Mom talked to her at the Penny," pointed out Vivian. It was non-accusatory. Just a statement. Clearly Vivian was conflicted.

Holly chewed on some of the meat. "Well. Do you still have feelings for her?" Her daughter shook her head.

On the other hand, Gail looked surprised. "You're ... You're just gonna ask her like that?"

"She's not a child," muttered Holly. "And even when she was, we didn't shy around that."

"She's sitting right here." Vivian sounded morose. "She's still living here. She's probably always gonna live here." And she didn't want to talk to Liv about why she still lived at home, it seemed.

"You stayed at the Academy okay," said Gail softly.

"Mostly." Vivian put her fork down and sighed. "It filled my head up so much..."

Holly kept eating. What did Gail always say? Lower the bar. Give her something simple she could do. "If she asks, tell her you don't want to talk about it."

Her hazel eyed child looked up, confused. "That's it? Tell her I don't want to talk about it?"

Smiling, Holly gestured with her fork. "Eat, please. You'll feel better. And yes. That's it. You tell her no, and she won't press." Vivian opened her mouth. "If she does, walk away. She'll get the idea."

"I suddenly see why none of your exes show up in our life, Lunchbox," smirked Gail.

Holly ignored her. "If Liv really wants to be your friend above all else, she'll respect that. But she's moving to another country and it's scary and she probably would like her best friend around."

Vivian snorted. "It's the States, Mom. Matty's lived in New York for years." Vivian and Olivia's best friend, Matty, had gone to design school in New York. There was a photo of him with Tim Gunn stuck to Vivian's pegboard.

"Not everyone has been to Europe four times before she was twenty," remarked Gail, surprisingly astute on this one.

And Vivian looked sheepish. "Fine. I'll text her later."

That night it was Vivian who sat on the back porch, quietly talking to her once best-friend and former girlfriend.

"You give good advice, Stewart," whispered Gail, tugging her away from the back. "So how come all your exes avoid you?"

"I break their hearts and they can't bear to see me again," mused Holly, smiling.

Gail shook her head. "They are weak, weak, women." Keeping hold of Holly's hand, she headed to the stairs. "Or I'm incredibly awesome. Probably both."

"At least I don't have to worry about your ego."

* * *

Fixing her tie, Vivian bumped the door open for the morgue while Duncan lectured them.

"You guys need to listen for a second," he said as they went inside. "See, it's our job, right, to make the city safe and not screw up. But if we do, we gotta come here. Dead people means we failed out there, get it?" They both nodded at him. "In here, the doctors and the lab geeks are the boss. They tell you to do something, do it. You ain't smarter than they are. Don't touch anything, or anyone. Treat the bodies with respect, 'cause they're, y'know, people. Human people."

Rich cleared his throat. "But they're dead."

"Still humans, Hanford. Okay? And, you know what? You guys don't speak until spoken to, okay? You're rookies but you're cops, so remember we gotta listen and learn when we're down here. Got it?"

They nodded again and Vivian grinned as Dr. Ury greeted them. "Officer Moore. And these are the witness rookies?"

"Yeah," replied Duncan, puffing up a little. Holy crap, he was flirting. "Probationary Officers Hanford and Peck. This is Dr. Ury."

Rich grinned. "Pleased to meet you."

Vivian rolled her eyes slightly, just enough that Dr. Ury noticed and smirked. "Doctor."

"Nice to meet you officers. This is your first official autopsy, so you stand back there and don't interrupt. If you have to puke, use the sink in the back." When Rich scoffed, Dr. Ury _and_ Duncan scowled. "You think that's funny? There's no false bravado here, Officer. A man is dead. And you may think you're okay with the death, but an autopsy is a whole different kettle of fish." Dr. Ury turned to her assistant and said something else quietly.

Rich glanced at Vivian and hissed, "She serious?" When Vivian nodded, he exhaled a grunt. "What's the big deal? They're dead."

"Says the guy who shrieked like a girl when he saw them," Duncan pointed out. That was something Gail might have said, except for the 'like a girl' part. And when both Vivian and Dr. Ury glowered, Duncan back pedaled. "Not that girls ain't tough."

Surprisingly, even Rich seemed to think the sexism was crass. "It just surprised me," he muttered. "And so I shrieked, whatever. I won't pass out. You, Peck?"

Vivian just shook her head and smiled.

In the end, Rich didn't pass out. He did turn a little green when the internal organs came out and Dr. Ury asked if they wanted to see the oddity within. The lesions on the liver indicated he was using some dirty stuff, but with no trac marks, it was quite abnormal. Then Vivian asked if there were brain lesions, which she knew could indicate specific types of drugs, and Dr. Ury grinned and pulled out the saw. That was when Rich puked.

But no lesions on the brain.

They got back to the station, and no one made fun of Rich. Vivian never would and when Duncan opened his mouth to start, she cleared her throat and muttered to him that she knew. That shut him up. Holly loved the story about how Duncan had thrown up at his first four autopsies. Every time he was a jerk at a family dinner, those stories came out.

Still, Rich passed on lunch when Vivian pulled out her leftovers. "Okay, but you're not getting any of my food," she warned him, settling into the chair in the AV room.

"How can you eat?"

"Well, my mom is a fucking kick ass cook..." She loved Gail's cooking.

"I mean after the ... " He swallowed.

"Autopsy? Because I'm hungry." Vivian didn't have Gail's rather insatiable appetite or incredible metabolism. She did, on the other hand, do enough exercise for someone on ETF, so she was often very hungry too. Holly teased the hell out of both of them.

Not knowing any of that, Rich just looked at her like she was insane. "You're weird and creepy, Peck," he muttered. "What the hell are we doing?"

He wasn't asking the meaning of life, she assumed and stretched. "We are watching videos, on tape, which aren't time stamped, because the owner's an idiot. And we're looking for the driver to see if we can get him paying cash or credit, and one hopes his ID."

"Can't they check the receipts?"

"Place used a swipe on a tablet computer. We're probably waiting on a warrant."

Rich eyed her. "Warrant?"

"Yeah, they don't save that stuff on the computers locally. It's all in the cloud. And we don't have his pass-codes anyway."

"Can't computer forensics crack it?"

She looked surprised. "Not likely. Apple built their shit without back doors, which is cool for your own privacy but a fucking nightmare for us. We just know what app he used." Which was weird, when Vivian thought about it. "Wonder if he has a business partner..."

Rich started the tape. "Because this is tape and the computer shit's expensive?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "Weird, ain't it?"

"Maybe that's the dead guy."

"Like we'd get that lucky," sighed Vivian, settling into watch. The quality wasn't bad, and it was high resolution for tape. It didn't seem that he used the tapes over and over. Uncle Oliver had lamented about that once.

About an hour in, Rich muttered, "No one cares about your hemorrhoids, man. God, shut up."

Vivian pressed pause. "What the what?"

"The clerk, dead guy number one? He's been telling _everyone_ about his ass. I mean, come on."

She stared at Rich for a long moment. "What? How the hell do you know that?"

And Rich looked embarrassed. "I ... I can read lips." His face got read and he mumbled, quickly, "My old man is deaf."

Vivian grinned. "Fucking hell, sit closer. As soon as we get this guy, you tell me what he's saying, I'll write."

Confused, Rich did and as they _finally_ found their shooter on the video, started to narrate. "Hey, Jack, long time no see... Yeah, yeah, me too. How's the wife? ... Oh, that's too bad... I can't see what he's saying there-"

"Don't worry," muttered Vivian, watching and writing as fast as she could. Thank god she knew shorthand.

"Right... Ah, okay... My prescription expired, but I got a one time refill."

Vivian jammed the pause button. "Can you see what that says? God, why do doctors have to have such shit handwriting."

They strained and finally Vivian took a screenshot. "Press play," Rich said softly. On the video, the clerk (Jack Mancuso, they already knew that) picked it up. "Think you can do me a solid? ... I know, but we've been friends for a long time. I've got cash..."

At that point on the video, the hipster they'd seen walk into the store waltzed in. Jack held up his hand to the mystery guy, who turned to walk around the store. Shopping. "Hipster guy doesn't know him, it looks like."

"No, they're just talking about a regular prescription. Anxiety. How does weed make that better?"

"Fuck if I know." They watched the hipster leave the store with a bag of pot and then the clerk, Jack, came around to flip the sign. Vivian didn't remember seeing that happen. Maybe she couldn't see it from her position. No... She was watching the driver. "Wait... If he flipped the sign..." She rewound. The sign was flipped, the door was not locked.

"Okay, I can read Jack... Should I?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Right. Uh. Okay... Look, Kenton? Canton? Kent? Not sure. Look Kent, we're old friends, but I can't lose my license. I gotta pay alimony."

"That explains the wife," muttered Vivian.

"Kent- yeah! His name is Kent." Rich grabbed Vivian's arm. "Kent said something and now Jack's saying... Kent, be reasonable, man." They watched Kent lift his shirt a little. "Whoa, that's Jack, not me. Whoa, that's not cool..."

Both men on the video looked up, turning from the camera. They could see their driver. "Clear shot," muttered Vivian and she took a still shot.

"Hey, man, like, I know you're out for lunch, but I gotta scrip."

They both paused and stared at the screen. "Holy crap, he's an idiot," Vivian laughed.

"No shit," Rich chortled. "Jack's asking him to come back later, Kent is saying it's fine, he'll wait. The driver is ... Oh man. Rewind, that can't be right." Rich waited while Vivian rewound. "Okay, dude says... Cool, thanks man. My boss's been working me all hours. Are you your own boss? Yeah that's cool."

The driver flashed a wad of bills and pulled out his wallet. "Kent's eyes are on the prize." Vivian made a note.

"Here's my ID... Is that his real one, you think?"

"He's a loser, so probably." Vivian pressed pause again. "I hate this video. Why does he have tape? Who the hell _sells_ tape anymore?"

"Lots of places," said Noelle, scared the shit out of both of them. "Notes." Vivian handed them over and Noelle whistled. "How'd did you get all that?"

When Rich flushed, Vivian gestured at him, "Hanford can read lips, ma'am."

Noelle looked impressed. "Good to have him around. Where are you now?"

Vivian tapped the screen. "That guy is our driver. We think he's handing over his real ID, and he just flashed a wad of cash." Taking the third chair, Noelle nodded and Vivian cleared her throat. The notebook came back and she set herself up again. "Unless anyone can read the ID ...?" Everyone shook their head. Vivian took a screen grab again and then pressed play.

Nervous, Rich glanced at Noelle, but went on with his translations. "Uh... Yeah, that's me. I bought from the shop on Bloor last month, but he said you carry Regal Flyer, and that really does it for me." Noelle made a noise and Vivian held up a finger. If you didn't distract Rich, he did better. "Do you, like, give a discount to regulars? Cause I could be a regular."

The driver on video peeled off way more than the bill was, putting it down on the counter. Jack the dead Clerk looked up at the camera. The driver followed his gaze and said, clear enough that Vivian could read his lips, that Jack should just wipe the tapes. The man was an idiot.

"Look, remember my name, okay, Mark Arana. You be good to me, me and my boys be good to you."

And then it all went to hell. Kent pulled the gun out and jabbed it at Arana, who folded like Chloe on poker night, and all but threw the money. Jack shouted something, Rich couldn't be sure, but then Kent just shot him. There were the gunshots Vivian heard. There was the driver, Arana, grabbing his weed and the money off the ground (about the only smart thing he did) because Kent was staring at the man he'd shot, and running out. And Kent grabbed his head, walking around the counter, cursing... And then he fell over. Dead.

They watched the final scene a few more times. "Does he look more sweaty?" Vivian squinted as she asked. "Like maybe he's coming off a high and needs a fix?"

"That's not how weed works," noted Noelle, but she sounded doubtful.

"What if it's not weed," mused Rich. "I mean, street drugs are laced all the time. What if Jack was lacing things for his friends?"

Noelle clapped them both on the shoulder. "I think that's something to take to the Ds for them to run down, while you find prescriptions and receipts for Kent and Mark. Send the video to the AV geeks for a full review. Good work."

As Noelle left, Vivian dropped her pen and sighed. "What fun," she muttered and ejected the tape.

"Yeah but... we got a murder."

There was Rich, always looking on the asshat bright side. "Yeah, two people died, Rich. That's not a good day for anyone."

* * *

It was déjà vu, watching her kid go over the records. Gail smiled as she saw Vivian and Rich with their heads down, going through logs of receipts. That had never been a fun job. As she walked into Traci's office, she jerked her head, "What are they looking for?"

"They got the shooter's first name, and we got the subpoena for the credit card sales, so Peck is going those looking for anyone with a K or Kent as the first name. Hanford's going through the copies of prescriptions and photo IDs."

"Makes you glad to be old sometimes," grinned Gail.

Traci smirked. "Holly said you made growing old sound romantic."

With an evil smirk, Gail pointed out, "I have raised a minion to do the work I hate." They both laughed. "How's Leo? He hasn't come by in weeks."

"He hired a cleaning service for the loft," sighed Traci. "I think he's going to take the job in Texas."

"That doesn't make sense, he can work anywhere."

"Yeah, but it's a startup... I don't know. How did he get so smart? Dex isn't, and I'm not _that_ smart..." She shook her head. Traci was preparing for the inevitable of her child leaving the roost.

Gail sat down in the empty chair. "We both know it's not Steve," she pointed out.

That made Traci frown. "He's still talking about it, huh?"

"So's Noelle. I'm not ready for that." Putting her boots up on Traci's desk, Gail shook her head. "Ollie threw us off."

Traci shoved the booted feet off. "Well that's up to them right now. Why are you slumming it downstairs?"

Gail pulled out her notes. As much as she did everything on the computer, she still liked the old log books. "I need the details on the Carhart case." A multiple murder case that still looked clear homicide, but...

Predictably, Traci sighed. "Best case I've had in years, and my Inspector best friend and sister in law is sniping it. Didn't you make detective _after_ me?"

"Be better than everyone else," sighed Gail, quoting a Peck mantra. "Not taking it, by the way, just need the deets. It might be related to a serial killer TwentySeven had about five years ago."

Traci blinked a few times. "Thank you? Why are you leaving it with me?"

"What kinda question is that?" Gail was confused. "You're the best detective in five divisions, I can't prove it's a serial, and even if I do, you've got the most legwork on the case, so ... Well you may have to work with Swarek, but-"

That made Traci laugh. "Oh I get it," she chortled. "You don't want to work with Sam."

"Nick and Viv already had to." Gail shrugged. "Nick needs to get over it. He won."

Traci gave her an amused look. "How long did it take for you to get over Andy and Nick being a thing?"

Weirdly, not long. "One night with Holly," smiled Gail. Traci made a face and Gail kicked her chair. "Not that, you idiot. Remember when I burnt my wrist? Drain cleaner? Grow op? Dead guy in a barrel?"

"My first big case, sure," smiled Traci.

"Holly picked me up at the hospital. I slept in her guest room. That morning? Kinda over Andy." Because that night, a friend had reached out and stayed with her when she needed it most. And that night, Gail realized she wasn't alone.

With a sigh, Traci leaned back. "You know. That was a big day for a lot of us. Your brother's a massive scene stealer."

"Pecks."

"I'm really glad he and you stopped being so Pecky."

"He loves you," smiled Gail. "You're... What 17 years this summer?"

"Which means yoooou will be 20 next year," laughed Traci. "When are you guys going to have a ceremony?"

Gail snorted. "We did, with a judge. And I believe you and I sang at our ten." That had been fun, she had to admit. "My mom and Lily are planning 20 for us. I'm in actual fear."

"You should be. Our fifteen was crazy." Traci rolled her eyes. "How's the new grill working out?"

After their fifteenth, Gail had loaned the happy couple her cottage for a week. They had, somehow, managed to break the grill by melting cheese all over it. "I love it. Just don't make pizza on it without the stone."

They shared a smirk. "I swear it works like that at home!"

But the time for chit chat was over and they settled in to talk about the case. If it was a serial, Gail might have to take it over, but she hoped to just oversee it from afar. Sniping big cases was, historically, why people didn't like Major Cases. One of the big changes she'd made was not taking the cases but working with them as teams. It had gone over well.

So far, Traci had it all under control, which was good. Gail trusted her, and not just because they were friends. Traci really was one of the best detectives around. She was great at homicide and loved the work.

Speaking of loving her work, Gail had a wife who was a workaholic when left to run free. As she left Traci's office, she sent her wife a quick heart-beat on her watch. It was returned immediately and Gail called her.

"Hello, nurse," she quipped.

"Hello, officer," drawled Holly. "Did you hear what our kid did?"

Gail looked over where Vivian was sitting, still going over records. "Something worth punishing with reviewing records?"

"Yes," laughed Holly. "She and that new kid, Hanford, figured out that the weed was laced."

Poor Hanford's new nickname was two-times, after he puked twice at the autopsy. Thus far, the nickname hadn't spread at the station, but Vivian admitted to having threatened Gerald about it. She was a good kid. "Laced with what?"

"Opiates."

Gail blinked. "He was lacing weed with painkillers?"

"Among other things. The list is surprisingly humane, though. I asked your babies in blue to track it."

"Thus giving our little girl more work, clever. So does that mean you're free for a date tonight, Mrs. Stewart?"

Holly laughed warmly. "I could be, Mrs. Peck. Romantic dinner? Night out?"

"I was thinking more of a night _in_ , if the kid has to work late..."

There was a little silence on the line. "I like that idea." There was a drop in Holly's voice that Gail liked as well. "Let me hand off this to the night shift. We're running all the weed in the whole place, and CSU is going over the lab in the back top to bottom."

"Fun times. Pick me up here, then. Drugs has this one under control."

"Sounds good, love you."

"Love you too, Holly," smiled Gail. She looked over at her kid and, by reflex, reached for her watch to tap her a heartbeat... But the kid wasn't wearing her smart watch. Vivian wore Gail's ten-year watch to work because it was tough, functional, and demure.

Smart kid.

Instead, Gail texted Vivian a quick message.

_If you're stuck late, I'll leave you my car. Holly and I are going on a date._

She watched her daughter reach for her phone and read it. A very fast reply was tapped out.

_Ew. No details. I'm only halfway done. Please don't defile our couch. Again._

Gail laughed and replied no promises, heading back to the stairs. She always took the stairs these days. It was her faint concession to the fact that she was almost fifty. Health. After her father died of a heart attack and her mother had one, Gail was more heart conscious. She hated it.

It was many hours later when the garage door finally opened and Vivian made it home. Holly was asleep, diagonal across the bed like normal, her cold feet pressed up to Gail's leg, and Gail... Well she was awake. Stupid menopause. When Holly had gone through it, the insomnia was mildly amusing and had them both awake at the same time. Gail was less enamored of it now that she had double insomnia.

The half open door to the bedroom moved and Vivian's brown head popped in. "Go to sleep, Mom," she said softly.

"Would if I could, kiddo," she sighed back. Glancing at Holly, Gail slipped out of bed and pulled on her robe. "I'm hungry. You eat?"

Vivian shook her head and they went downstairs. "Do we have to steam clean the couch?"

"No," laughed Gail, shoving her daughter's arm. They made sandwiches and sat at the kitchen island. "So how was work?"

"I hated it. Spent the whole day looking for names and credit cards."

"And did you find anything?"

"Marc Arana, with a C not a K, is an idiot and since he didn't pay for his weed, the Ds are getting a warrant. Kent's last name is Lyles, and he's been taking weed for migraines for six years. Health care won't cover it anymore, since the doctors say it's not helping."

"His clerk buddy was lacing weed with heavy duty opiates. Betcha that helped his headache," smirked Gail.

Vivian laughed. "Yikes. Mom know how he died yet?"

"They ran the blood work, but she didn't have the results when she picked me up."

"Tomorrow, maybe," sighed Vivian. She yawned. "How can you function on such little sleep, Mom? I'm beat."

"You also run a 5k every morning, you sport-o freak," smirked Gail, fondly. "Sue said you went running with ETF on Monday."

With a shrug that reminded Gail of herself, Vivian finished her food. "Just because you and Mom can't keep up with me anymore."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Brat. Why did you start doing all that?" When Vivian flushed, the memory clicked. Vivian had started all the running when she and Liv had broken up. And Liv was back in town. "Oh, right."

"I think she wants to hook up," grumbled Vivian. "She kept asking if I was single?"

"Maybe she just wants to know how you're really doing," Gail suggested. Then she asked, "How are you really doing?"

"In general? Okay. I like being a cop, Mom."

With a laugh, Gail shook her head. "I gave up on that the day you graduated. You're good, just remember you gotta walk before you can run. Okay?"

Her daughter smiled. "I know. I'm a rookie. I don't get to follow cases, I don't get to see how it all connects. I have to do the grunt work, collect pieces, follow orders, don't screw up."

Gail ruffled her hair. "It sucks."

"It doesn't," admitted Vivian, sheepishly. "There's a lot going on at once. How the hell do you keep it all straight in your head?"

"Lots of practice. Don't worry, after a few years, you'll be good at it too."

Vivian nodded, thoughtfully, and picked up the plates. "If you were me, would you... Would you hook up with Liv while she's in town?"

Ouch. "At your age? Probably. At my age, I think you'll just end up with heartache."

"That sounded like the voice of experience," mused Vivian.

"That it is," Gail confirmed. "If you can do it without getting your heart stomped on or getting in too deep, hey, have sex. It's fun."

Vivian laughed softly. "I don't think I can do that," she admitted.

"So be friends." Gail smiled at her kid. "What happened to that cute computer girl you went out with when you were in the academy?"

The rookie blinked. "Oh. She wanted an open relationship, after we went out like twice. Which no."

Gail made a face. "You have your mom's luck in women." She stood up and slung an arm over Vivian's shoulders. "I trust you to know yourself, kiddo. Do what's right for you."

"Way to set a high bar, Mom," groaned Vivian.

* * *

Exhaustion hangovers were worse than alcohol ones, Vivian decided. Making it worse, she'd promised to do sprints at the park with the ETF guys, which meant they would never let her live it down if she didn't show up.

But there was an angel in her life. A cup of coffee was handed to her as she and Rich walked into the lab with McNally. "Oh my god, LaFaire. I love you," she announced, sucking down half.

"A little birdie picked some up and said to please treat you."

Vivian closed her eyes and sighed. "I love her too."

McNally snorted. "You are just like your mother."

"Thanks, McNally," smiled Vivian. "I work hard at it."

Rich narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell is your mom anyway?"

Both McNally and LaFaire laughed, but neither explained. "Someone who loves me very much, Richie."

Leading them into the lab, LaFaire explained why they were there. "So, you guys spotted Lyles' sweats on the video? Turns out that the store was lacing weed for special customers."

"With opiates, right?" Vivian realized, as soon as she said it, that the caffeine was rushing through her. Clearly Holly got her a triple shot. She mumbled a sorry and pressed her lips tight as McNally glared.

LaFaire smiled, though. "Fentanyl, too." And he rattled off a list of side effects. "Lyles was addicted. And he had bone cancer."

Bone cancer? Vivian blinked. McNally whistled. "So he was getting marijuana for headaches _and_ he had cancer? Why did his insurance cancel his script?"

"That's for you guys. The cancer wasn't on his record."

With a glance at McNally, Vivian pulled out her logbook and started taking notes. The batches of pain killers were prescription quality and the lab had a match to the legit scripts provided to various pharmacies. Which meant more work for the two grunts. Track down the pharmacies. Try to make some connections, or give the Ds enough to make connections.

When they got back to the station, Vivian was unsurprised that they were back on computers. She, who was better with them thanks to years of lessons from Uncle Dov and crew, had the job of narrowing search queries and sorting results. Parse the data. Meanwhile, Rich went over more receipts, sorting out who got what brand in an effort to figure out what strains of weed got laced.

"Peck, can you box?" That was Lara.

"I'm a runner, not a boxer." Vivian pressed the heels of her palms to her eye sockets. "Rich, please tell me you have something?"

"Our dealer is an idiot who puts the same mark on receipts for laced pot."

Vivian took one hand off and stared at him. "Are you kidding me?" But Rich held up a paper with a smiling rainbow on it. And then another. "Are criminals all stupid?" All these years, she thought Gail had exaggerated.

"Do they know what the guy died of?" Lara leaned over to look at the papers.

"Cardiac arrest. He was hooked on Fentanyl," sighed Vivian. "Near as we can figure out, Jack fed it to him to help ease the pain for a little extra cash. Kent got hooked. Ran out of cash, lost his coverage since he was lying about the headaches, tried to rob Jack... Stress of shooting his friend gave him a heart attack. Boom. Dead."

Lara stared at her. "Rich, she's more chatty about cases, isn't she?"

He nodded. "Can't figure out why her mom sent her coffee to the lab, but case theory? She's practically normal."

"Just for that, I'm not helping you find a boxer."

Pouting, Lara sat down. "But its for Fite Nite. Fifteen hasn't won for years!"

"Over twenty," sighed Vivian. Not since Nick lost. It was a record Fifteen was ashamed of.

"Seriously, Peck." Lara looked desperate. "Hanford..."

Rich shook his head. "I'm a gun guy."

Lara groaned. "I am screwed."

"Why don't you fight?" Vivian picked up her water.

"The sergeant said I sucked."

Vivian smiled. "Well. You're in luck."

Frowning, Rich looked confused. "Because Jenny-"

"God, no." Both Vivian and Lara laughed. "Christian actually was on the boxing team in school."

Lara brightened. "Seriously?"

"Truth." Vivian closed her eyes. "Rich, is all that in the database yet?"

"Yeah, I've been entering it as I go. Why?"

"I'm gonna cross reference." Sitting up, Vivian tapped into the computer. "Match the lace marked receipts to the buyers. Check the brands they bought to the batches. It'd be a waste to lace multiple batches, right, so you gotta make sure everyone gets the same scrips. Means the docs are in on it. Then we dump that on the Ds and get rewarded."

Rich laughed. "Yeah? What reward do we get?"

"Another job."

* * *

"Is it a Peck thing to make my lab cry?" Holly glowered at her daughter, who froze while she held her fork up to her mouth. "Because you and your cross checking laced weed meant they had to re-run a tonne of tests to find the right batch."

Vivian's hazel eyes sharpened. "I was right?"

God, she was just like Gail sometimes. "I really hoped that summer you spent in the lab would have given you more respect for the work they do."

Chagrined, Vivian ate her salad. "You know I do, Mom."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," admonished Holly. "Where is your mother?"

"She complained I gave her more work, too, and went back to the Division. I made skirt steak salad. With avocado and the raspberry vinaigrette."

Holly eyed the food. "You are an very good child, Vivian."

"God knows how." With a smile, Vivian pointed out, "I was raised by wolves."

"Lesbians. Same thing." Her daughter was a good cook, though. Holly made a plate and joined her at the couch where the news was on. "You are very strange, you know."

"What's wrong with liking the news?"

"As an adult? Nothing. At six, it was weird."

"Why be normal?" Vivian smiled. "So besides me pissing off your lab, anything cool happen?"

"Nothing on your cases. Lisa and Kate finally bought a condo together." Lisa had been all but living at Kate's for almost ten years, but refused to sell her own townhouse. "They picked the one with the lake view."

"Sounds perfect. Can we throw them a party?"

"You don't mind handing out with a bunch of old people?"

Vivian looked weirdly serious. "Mom, you're not old."

Holly's 57th birthday had come and gone with moderate fanfare. But she was older. "Yes, I am, honey, and it's okay. Every day I'm older is a day closer to spending most of my life with you and your mom than without."

"That sounds like something Mom would say to be weirdly romantic." Vivian smiled though. "I remember when I was twelve and realized I'd lived with you guys half my life. It's kinda cool."

"That's a little different when you're twelve," laughed Holly. "I met your mom at 35."

Looking up at the ceiling, Vivian mused, "70 is ... Okay, 70 will be old." Holly laughed and kicked her daughter's leg. "Seriously, though," she giggled. "That's like 13 years away, Mom. I'll have my ten years by then. And you can still be a medical examiner."

Her daughter did have amusing trains of thought. "No, I'm going to retire by 70. Take up gardening. Stay home and relax. Drive Gail nuts."

"Won't take long," smiled Vivian. "Maybe learn to cook?"

"You can shut up," laughed Holly.

Vivian grinned. "Hey, serious question."

"Is it about Liv?"

The joking mood with her child wavered. "No," she muttered. "Christian." Holly's eyebrows lifted. "He's boxing. Nick offered to teach him, but ..."

"But Nick got his ass handed to him... Why didn't I see that happen?"

"That was the night of the Penny Incident."

Oh. Holly sighed. "See and now I'm old. How do you know that?"

Vivian put her plate on the coffee table and stretched her arms up. "I remember all the stories, Mom. Like when Mom stopped a radio with her face, or you got knocked out by Sam... Or making out at weddings." She shrugged. "You guys are important."

She looked at her daughter thoughtfully. That Vivian memorized all the important moments from before she'd lived with them was both a move to make sure she belonged with them, but it crowded out the other memories. The therapist had warned them about that years ago. Vivian probably had a slew of repressed memories.

"You're important to us too, honey," said Holly softly.

"I know, Mom." Vivian tilted her head, looking very much like Holly knew she did sometimes. "So boxing? Because I love you, but I don't wanna talk about Liv or you thinking you're old, if that's okay."

Avoidance was okay sometimes. Holly smiled. "Let me think about it? I haven't done that for years."

"But you did, right?"

"I did... How did you know? Your mom doesn't even know." Her father had taught her to box for self defense, shortly after she'd been found out to be a lesbian.

"Grandpa told me," grinned Vivian. "I asked him to tell me all about you." And Vivian memorized everything about them.

Of course, leave it to her father to actually tell the kid about the boxing. "Did he also tell you I had a motorcycle?"

Vivian grinned. "He did."

They chatted for a while about the idea of Holly helping them train for the boxing match, and then turned on a basketball game. Holly and her mother had, for years, teamed up for a football pool. When Vivian turned fourteen, she asked if she could play too, and now three generations did football, soccer, hockey, baseball, and basketball pools.

By the time Gail got home, they had gotten deep into adjusting their teams for the next round, and missed the fact that Gail was actually _home_ until the blonde demanded Holly close the laptop. "I know you guys are total sporto freaks, but it's eleven, and we have a deal."

It was a simple deal. Gail didn't bring up work at the table, Holly didn't bring up sports, and unless it was a major case or the playoffs, ten PM started do-not-disturb hours on both those subjects. Smiling, Holly hit save and closed the laptop. "We'll finish it in the morning, Viv. Did you eat, honey?"

"There's more steak and salad in the fridge," Vivian noted, tucking her tablet aside.

"Fetch me food, child. It's your fault I was at work late." Gail dropped onto the couch beside Holly and her head hit the back of the couch. She looked beat.

Vivian shook her head and got up. "I get to hear behind the scenes drama?"

"In the morning," promised Gail. "I'd go right to bed if I could."

Running her fingers through Gail's bangs, Holly smiled. "Poor baby," she said softly. Gail simply could not go to bed un-fed. It always ended with her in the grumpiest mood ever, and the proud possessor a raging headache.

"Seriously, Holly. Eat. Shower. Sleep. No talk."

Holly didn't attempt to converse with her wife in that mood. She'd probably been talking to suspects all day, or worse, politicos. True to her word, Gail inhaled the food, went upstairs, showered, and was out in moments. In the morning, Gail was a little more chatty, but she was also in a rush. She took the time to inform Holly she loved her before hustling the kid out the door for early rollout.

When Holly rolled in to her own office, she pulled up the lab results on the dead body, Kent Lyles, and the weed from the shop. The Fentanyl was more interesting, frankly. Ever since her own experience in isolation and then Gail's subsequent drug smuggling/laundering case, Holly had gained a sort of expertise about the matter. So she read the Mass. Spec. results and let them bake in her brain.

Sadly, the best she could do was isolate the brands and sources of the lacing items. The rest was going to be the work that the detectives did. All Holly hoped was that they wouldn't ask for a different test. Her lab was always backed up.

Except... She stared at the results from Lyles and tapped in the combinations to her computer and ran up every similar death. One name jumped out at her. Holly pressed Gail's number on her phone and, as soon as her wife answered with a cranky, and distracted, Peck, launched into her question. "Tell me the story about Andy's first case with Sam again? I think I have an idea..."

* * *

"Anton Hill was Swarek's white whale," explained McNally as she spoke to the rookies.

Jenny's hand went up. "White whale?"

"It's a Moby Dick reference," muttered Vivian, taking notes. She could feel Jenny glowering and heard a muttered snide remark about the college girl. Whatever. " _Was_ ma'am?" Vivian glanced up at McNally, curiously.

McNally cleared her throat. "Anton Hill ran one of the biggest drug gangs in Toronto. We've wanted him for years, never got enough on him, he dropped dead of heart attack last year."

That was something Vivian remembered. She'd been old enough to go to the Penny as more than the designated driver, drank with the adults, and ended up with the worst hangover of her young life. Of all people to show up at the Penny though, was Sam Swarek.

Raising her hand, again, Jenny asked, "What does that have to do with our cases?"

There was a pause and Vivian glanced up to see McNally eyeing her. "Peck?"

"Hill's death left a power vacuum," she said. That was obvious, but it bought her some time to think. Why would that get brought up now? Either his gang was the one they were watching for that deal or ... Heart attack. "He died of a Fentanyl overdose?" She knew she shouldn't ask it as a question, but it was ludicrous.

The TO smiled at her. "The tox report from Dr. Stewart confirmed it was the same lab, even. And he had traces of marijuana in his system." Vivian grinned. Go Mom. "Hill did not control the Prancing Unicorn, as it happens."

The room went silent. Finally Lara asked, "Unicorn?"

"Prancing Unicorn is the name of the shop," Rich replied. "Why was he using a ... Was it a rival shop?"

"It was, but he didn't know it." McNally tapped the photo of the dead owner, Jack Mancuso. "Lara, what did the former Mrs. Mancuso say?"

Flipping back her notes, Lara cleared her throat. "She divorced her husband because he was working on special deals with doctors. Kickbacks. He'd been the people guy, she was the tech. She didn't want to turn him in, said she still loved him, but she couldn't stay with him."

"That sounds like the plot to a movie," whispered Christian and Vivian grinned.

McNally eyed them. "Something to share with the class?"

"Does she inherit everything?" Vivian put on her best innocent look.

It was clear McNally didn't buy it, but she let it go. "She does. And yes, she knew Lyles. Not Hill though. What are you thinking?"

"Maybe she set Lyles up? Got him the gun?" Vivian knew she was grasping at straws.

McNally shook her head. "No, she claims she hasn't seen or talked any of them in months. She's been visiting family back in New Brunswick. How's your French?"

Vivian winced. "I can hold up a conversation," she muttered, dropping her hand back to her notes.

"To answer your question, Hanford, Hill didn't want his guys to know he had cancer." All the rookies quieted. "Detective Price?"

Chloe, in a grey suit, sans jacket, walked to the front. "Rainbow Happiness, medical marijuana shop on Bloor, sister shop to Unicorn. Sound familiar?"

It did to Vivian, who leaned past Christian to eye Rich. He said nothing and looked perplexed. "Marc Arana. He said his usual shop was on Bloor," Vivian said firmly.

"Good," smiled Chloe. "That one has been hit up by Hills old gang. Arana was a driver for Hill, used to take his kid to school."

Under her breath, Vivian told Christian, "Explains the anxiety." Then she raised a hand. "What happened to the kid?"

Andy replied. "Daughter. Went into the wind at ten. She's been a lost soul for years."

Ignoring all that, Chloe went on. "He also asked for the strain Mancuso laced. Obviously Arana's not the brain behind the drop you guys were watching, but he _is_ still a driver. And he needs weed. And if he's Hill's old crew, they know most of us. But they don't know our rookies."

Oh man. Undercover? Already? "You won't be undercover," McNally said firmly, bursting that bubble. "You will be you. You will be in uniform. You will be fresh faced and earnest and you will be scaring him."

It must not have been just Vivian who was confused, because Chloe smiled gently. "There's a certain kind of terror that comes from the greenest greens looking for someone. Also by using our obvious rookies, it means we're not worried about him. Play on his insecurities."

McNally nodded. "Volk, Peck. You two will take the ones by UoT. Fuller and Aronson will take the ones on Church and Wellsley. Hanford, you'll be here with me working some tapes. Suit up."

As everyone got up, Vivian asked, "Are we working with TwentySeven on this one?" After all, McNally had mentioned Swarek and that was his world.

Chloe cleared her throat. "Hills gang has been in the midst of a take over by an older group. Three Rivers." Vivian's inhaled and tried not to react too much. "So as much as Swarek and TwentySeven wants to be all over this, it's in Fifteen. Don't screw up."

* * *

Part of why she liked having an office was because the office had the only access to what was left of her rooftop smokers retreat. Eight years ago, they'd expanded Fifteen and the rooftop was reduced in size to make more space for detectives, most of whom had been punted off of the first floor that needed a larger Sally Port and garage. The old comfort room was flipped to a conference room and after some last second negotiations, Gail had an office plunked where the door was.

It made for a cold office in winter, but she liked it, and if she craned her neck right, she could see Holly's office.

In summer, though, she often just went outside for the fresh air and thinking space. John leaned on the railing while Gail lounged on the bench. "Anton fucking Hill," she mused.

"How are you keeping TwentySeven out of it?"

"They're running the pharmaceutical angle. I pointed out that Sam's basically the poster boy for 'cops' for the Hill gang and the only one the Rivers _might_ recognize is Steve."

John nodded. "Where are the rooks off to?"

"Pot shops. Chloe wants to flush him out by scaring the crap out of him."

Her former partner laughed. "Well he has the brain of a gnat."

It was true. "She wanted 'em undercover, but they're too green. Maybe by October they could do a hooker sting."

"Oh man, I hated that." John leaned forward. "Who was the boy bait in your class?"

"Chris," she smiled. "McNally was so bad at it. I bet she still can't even talk about sex."

The older man was quiet. "Your kid makes me feel old, Gail."

"You say that every year, John."

"I'm serious. After she's cut loose..." He glanced back. "I dunno. What else will I do?"

Gail had expected to lose him after his mother died. She hadn't yet. "So long as you train your successor, I'll find you some sexy older women to hit on," drawled Gail, as if it meant nothing. It didn't. It meant everything. John, like Holly, was a constant in her life. He had her back. He would take a bullet for her. He was still the man she leaned on every day. Yes, she could do it without him. She didn't want to.

"How's your mom? Haven't seen her around."

"Fine. She comes over for dinner on Sundays. You know you're welcome." He didn't answer. "So. If we assume Arana is just a moron, why was he weed shopping? And what the hell was Lyles doing?"

John turned around and rested his arms on the railing. "Either he was shopping for himself, or the pickup with Bobby in the building was a cover for scoping out Unicorn as a new drop."

"Kinda hope it was for himself."

"Ditto." John closed his eyes. "Lyles. Unless we can tie him to anything useful, he's just a guy who Mancuso hooked on drugs and then cut off." He frowned. "I hate drug cases."

Gail stretched out and lay on the bench. "If it wasn't for the stupid lacing, I wouldn't care. But. Guess who has a kid who gets weed for stress?"

Her sergeant started to laugh. "God, remember when our mayor was a crack smoking fat bastard?"

"I liked the gay one," mused Gail. "He was fun. So was the one who broke his nose in the hockey game." The current mayor was boring. Dull as dishwater, a lifetime politico, and apparently he stressed out his kid. "Maybe I should run for mayor when I retire."

John laughed. "You are never retiring, Peck. You're going to work until you're old and cranky... Crankier."

"No," she sighed. "After how my old man died, I'll retire. I want to spend a few years up at the cottage with Holly, just being old and adorable. Watch Viv's kids run around. Die in my sleep on the lakeshore."

The man was quiet. "You've been with her the whole time I've know you," he said quietly. "You make it look easy."

"She means everything to me, John," Gail said sincerely. "Her and that stupid kid who decided to be a cop and a Peck."

John smiled. "I can't believe you didn't see that coming. I knew it as soon as she asked when she could shoot a gun."

That had been when Vivian was eight and Chris had died. She wasn't ever sad or disappointed by the fact that her kid wanted to be a cop. It was just hard for Gail to understand why anyone would. She was a cop because she was a Peck. Vivian was a Peck because she wanted to be a cop. It felt backwards and weird but it was what the kid wanted.

"We should both retire before she goes undercover," decided Gail, and they both laughed.

* * *

"Why do you think we didn't get the gay spots? Do you hang out there like all the time?" Lara checked off another shop on their list and eyed the list

"I live near there," Vivian noted. "Next one's this way."

As she walked down the street, Lara asked, "Okay, how do you know that?"

Vivian sighed. "UoT graduate. There's a pipe shop right over here."

In addition to the weed shops, they had to stop in all the pipe and 'lifestyle' stores in the area. It was a college area, there were a lot. So far no one knew who Marc Arana was. Not that Vivian was all that shocked. Stoners stuck together. All small groups did. It was just how they protected themselves.

"Who was the girl at the Penny the other night? The one at the bar?"

"Inspector William's younger daughter, Olivia. We went to school together." Vivian opted for the easiest explanation of it all.

That shut Lara up for a while as they went into the next shop. Three places later, and a cup of good coffee, they had fuck all. "God this is boring," muttered Lara. "Do you really think it'll work?"

Vivian rolled her cup between her hands. "I think Det. Price thinks it might scare him into fucking up."

"That was a no." Lara smiled. She had a brain. "Who are Three Rivers?"

Hesitating, Vivian tossed her cup in a trash can. "They _used_ to be a drug gang around here. About … twenty years ago. Changed to a little more mob-type things, got tripped up and caught and went underground. Then, I guess the last couple years, they popped back up doing drugs."

"And that's the guy you arrested on your first day?"

"One of 'em, yeah." Vivian was still a little embarrassed about it.

After a moment, Lara grinned. "You have a theory."

"I'm a rookie," corrected Vivian. "We don't have theories."

"You're legacy. I know you are." When Vivian must have looked surprised, Lara pointed out, "There are over thirty people named Peck, all active on the force. If you look at the old Chiefs, there're even more. You're the newest."

Vivian sighed. "Me and my cousins... Yeah."

"Which is why all our instructors would look at you when we didn't know the answer. You, Vivian Peck, are royalty."

And that was truth. "Where are you from, Officer Volk," wondered Vivian.

"Toronto, same as you." They smiled at each other. "You need friends, Officer Peck. And I think I am just the girl to help you out."

Friends. She really hadn't made friends since Matty and Christina... Huh. And Christian. Chrissy had moved to Guelph when she was seven, though, and Matty was still in New York (talking about moving back though, since his boyfriend was an opera singer and wanted a gig back home). But making friends was not something she was great at. Both Olivia and Christian were friends forced upon her by circumstances.

In a way, so would Lara.

"Please don't start hitting on me," whinged Vivian. She knew Lara wasn't, and so did Lara, but it broke the tension and they laughed.

Lara grinned. "See, this is why I said you needed to remember the person under the cop. You're funny."

"Oh, I'm a laugh riot," deadpanned Vivian. "Threw a party when my folks were out of town, bored everyone, got caught, didn't get punished."

"Wait, you _didn't_ get punished?"

"Nah, apparently throwing a boring party and having my reputation entirely unchanged was punishment enough."

They reached the last pot shop on their list. "Harsh. I'm taking lead in this one."

"Knock yourself out." Vivian opened the door for Lara, looking around.

Bold and excited, Lara went right up to the desk. "Hi. I've been at this all day, and I'm getting the idea our TOs think this is a joke. Ever had that day?"

The man behind the counter blinked. "Fuck, yeah," he sighed. "My boss?" He turned and looked over his shoulder at the camera. "My boss sticks me with stuff he says is super important but it's bull, y'know?"

Lara nodded and leaned on the counter. "Tell me about it."

"Your partner looks all serious."

"Peck? It's not her fault. She's the latest in a hundred years of policing. I've been informed they come out of a machine like that."

"Oh. Poor kid. Bet she didn't get a choice about the job either." He nodded knowingly. Vivian put on her best 'bored and disinterested' look and wandered around the front of the room, reading the satisfied customer notes. "You guys, you know we're totally legit, right? Above board, under watchful eyes. Only take people who have scrips from good doctors."

While Vivian didn't look over, she turned an ear closer. Good doctors. That implied bad ones. Lara caught it too. "Yeah? Bet you have people trying to scam."

"All the time. But I'm a licensed pharmacist. Don't want to lose that."

Now Vivian spoke up. "A pharmacist?" What had Gail and Steve told her about the Three Rivers guy? The CI who stabbed Steve was a nurse. "And you work here?"

"I like helping people," he said, firmly, clearly asking not to be judged.

She was bad cop, so Vivian scoffed and looked away.

"Don't mind her," assured Lara. "So speaking of scams, this guy's trying to pass bad scrips." She pushed over a paper. The print up.

"They're fake?!"

No fucking way. Vivian looked over, surprised, and met Lara's equally shocked face. "He was here?"

"Yeah, Marc-with-a-C, total tool. Acting like he's all hot and cool and Mr. Sex-In-Jeans." The pharmacist shook his head. "He's due for a pickup this afternoon. What should I do?"

Lara hesitated. "I'll call it in," Vivian said calmly. "What time is his pickup?"

"Five. Last of the day."

"Okay, good." Vivian pulled out her phone and stepped outside. "McNally? You aren't going to believe what Volk found out."

In the end, they stuck one of Chloe's scruffier guys as the new counter clerk. The rookies got to do little more than play lookout in vans, again. But Arana didn't put up a fight. He didn't even argue. Vivian decided he was a patsy, or gangs were stupider than Gail had previously told her.

The good news was Lara and Vivian got to watch the interrogation, by Chloe, at the station. They were the queens of their class at the Penny, explaining the details of what had happened. Lyles had killed Mancuso for getting him addicted and leaving him dry while he was dying. Turns out he was also dying of bone cancer. At the same time, Mancuso was freaked out because he was was trying to get in with Three Rivers.

Their idiot witness, Marc Arana, was with what was left of Anton Hill's crew and was hunting for a new place to push his drugs. He'd known the guys at Rainbow for years and they were freelancing and helping Mancuso and Unicorn step to the dark side of drug selling.

"This is all too confusing," groaned Jenny. "Mancuso was taking lessons from the pot shop Arana went to so he could join Three Rivers?"

"To pay off his divorce settlement. Wife got him for everything, so he tried to launder drug money with drugs." Vivian sipped her beer, trying not to grin.

"And, what?" Rich scowled. "Bad luck that Arana and Lyles happened on the same day?"

Lara nodded. "Guy had nothing but bad luck. He was in debt up the ass and back again. Being sued too."

Vivian carried on the story. "Arana wasn't doing all this on behalf of Hill, though. So he's scared to death. Det. Price has him under her thumb. They've got an in on both sides of the whole Rivers/Hill mashup."

With a big sigh, Christian leaned back. "That sucks, they have a big case and you guys broke it."

"Success is 90% luck and 10% timing, C," remarked Vivian, shaking her head.

Jenny blinked. "Who said that?"

"My grandmother." Vivian picked up her beer only to have Christian jostle her arm. "Dude, beers," she scowled.

But Christian was looking past her. "Dude, Ivs." Ivs. That was what Gail called her and Liv. Vivian turned around and saw Olivia walk in with Noelle. Crap. "Did you call her?"

She shook her head and ignored Rich and Jenny asking why Vivian would call the other woman. Or 'the hottie' as Rich put it. "Shut up, Rich," muttered Vivian, finishing her beer.

"Go," said Christian. And then, like the best wingman ever, he asked Lara, "So. Do you guys get to follow the case at all?"

With a curious look to Vivian, Lara went into the details about how they'd not follow this case any more than the other ones. Vivian watched Liv go up to the bar and followed her. "Hello," she said, pushing for that casualness Gail seemed to exude like breathing.

"Hi," replied Liv, looking nervous. "I'm sorry, my mom..." She gestured over at Noelle.

"It's a cop bar. She's a cop. It happens."

"And you're a cop." Liv looked her up and down. "You look ... Good. I said that the other night, didn't I?"

Vivian smiled. "You're such a dork, Liv."

"Yeah, usually you're the babbler." Olivia laughed softly. "This is where you're supposed to buy me a drink."

"Oh yeah, no. I'm not buying drinks tonight. We trapped a drug dealer."

Liv grinned. "How does that work? Best collar of the week doesn't pay for drinks?"

Nodding, Viv held up two fingers. "That's exactly how it works." She handed Liv one of the beers. "I was going to call."

"Is that a line?"

Vivian looked down. "No. I... I was reminded today that I don't really do friends really well."

Her second oldest friend studied her face. "That was Mom's biggest worry. About us. That we'd screw up friends."

Snorting, Vivian pointed out, "We did."

"Yeah. We did."

Noelle interrupted the moment. "Vivian. Come here and tell me how you got free drinks again this week."

"Again?" Olivia picked up her mother's drink and looked amused.

"I arrested a drug dealer my first day," shrugged Vivian. "I'm kind of a bad ass."

"Oh, I've got to hear this."

It was weird being around Liv. They hadn't broken up well at all. In fact, Holly called it her level of shitty breakups. But they'd been friends for 12 years before they'd tried dating and maybe, just maybe, they could figure out how to be friends again. After all, Gail hated people but even she managed to still be friends with Nick, after two phenomenal breakups.

She glanced back at the rookies and saw Lara regaling them with the story. There was no time like the present.

"So. Which first?" Vivian pulled a chair out with her foot. "The one where I totally lucked out and arrested a guy with drugs in his bag, or the one where I totally lucked out and saw a shooting?"

Liv laughed. "Luck seems to be a predominant factor in your career."

"Says the woman who's greatest achievement comes from forgetting to put away her test tubes," Vivian said drolly.

Turning darker, Olivia snapped at her mother. "Mom! You told?"

Yeah. She could try friends again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rookies are rookies. They don't get to be in on the action in general because they're rookies. So they may stumble on the facts of the case and some of the answers, but it's the experienced cops who will solve them.
> 
> The convoluted nature of this chapter's case is on purpose. The murder was simple revenge. Lyles was having a heart attack as he killed Mancuso. The witness, Arana, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Hill/Rivers gang situation is not solved yet.


	3. 01.03 Heart Breakers, Money Makers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Fite Nite! Christian is battling for the pride of Fifteen (who hasn't won a Fite Nite since Nick's loss in season 5 - thanks, Gerald). Vivian is helping him train, but has her own problems when her ex-girlfriend shows up. Meanwhile the rookies stumble onto a counterfeiting ring.

"Come on, Christian, one two." Vivian held up the pads in position and nodded. He bobbed a little and swung. Left right. "Again." They did it again. "You sure you were into MMA when you were a kid? Cause you suck at this."

"Actually he's looking much better," said Holly with a smile. She'd not been surprised when Vivian asked her to help Christian train. Apparently Nick had offered, but since he was the beginning of the unbroken chain of loss, Vivian said no in her best Peck way. Gail said that meant Vivian had laughed at Nick and walked away.

But that did mean the kids needed help to get fit in the right way. Vivian had started by dragging Christian out running every morning. He was subjected to what Vivian thought of as a normal workout, including the push-ups and sit-ups and everything else that she did on the cross training circuit.

Back when Vivian had been a teenager, she'd struggled to keep up with Holly and Gail on their runs. They'd gone too many miles for the kid, which Gail used as an excuse to go home early. By eighteen, she was running Gail's ass off and got into doing cross training and some weird as shit monkey stuff. Now in her twenties, with Holly kicking 57, Holly couldn't keep up with her kid at all.

She could, however, train them in boxing. "Vivian, how tall is the guy he's fighting?"

"My height. 185 and change. He's fast, too."

"Hold 'em a bit higher and further apart. Christian, don't go soft on her. Viv's tough."

"She outruns my ass every morning," grumbled Christian, but the thwacks were harder. "This isn't what I did in school." He'd been a boxer in high school, as well as a total MMA junkie.

"Yeah, I've seen your record," Vivian replied with a very Peck smirk.

As the kids practiced, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and Holly smiled more. "How are they doing?" Gail's voice was low and soft.

Holly leaned back against Gail, inhaling the smell that surrounded her wife. It was lemony and peppery with a dash of coffee and leather and something so uniquely Gail... God she smelled good. "Not bad," breathed Holly. "You smell good," she added as a whisper.

"Caught my bad guy," purred Gail, settling her head on Holly's shoulder and sliding her hands under the edge of Holly's shirt.

"Ah." Holly grinned. Gail was almost always handsy after a good case. "Viv, every once in a while, swipe at him with a pad. Christian, honey, remember to duck."

They watched the kids swing a few more times before Gail asked, "Does he actually have a chance?"

Holly nodded. "I think so. Vivian, hit him harder." The resultant effect was, the next time Christian didn't duck enough, Vivian's slap with the pad sent him back a step.

"That's my girl," laughed Gail. "Christian, you can stay for dinner."

"Thanks. I think." He rubbed his shoulder and Vivian grinned.

"Hey, you were on the boxing team in high school. You should be better at this," teased Vivian, pointing at him with a pad. "Come on, don't be a baby." She settled back into her stance.

Gail kissed the side of Holly's neck and let go. "I'm going to fire up the grill. Last chance for requests."

From the lawn, Vivian called back, "You have jerk chicken kebabs marinating in the fridge, Mom."

"Pick a side, kid."

"I pick Holly's side! She's cooler."

Gail threw her hands up, eyes laughing. "Screw you, junior. See if I make you eggplant and garlic bread."

Of course they knew Gail was going to do just that. Holly smiled and joined in, "If we have corn, honey, I'd love some." Gail grumbled, kissed Holly, and went to start the grill.

They sat around the table outside, laughing about everyday things. Christian was less awkward than Chris had been, in Holly's a bit fuzzy memories of the man. It was strange, but she saw bits of Chris in the boy who wasn't his son and who wasn't raised by him. Christian had only seen Chris once in a while for the first eight years of his life. And then Chris had died.

When young Christian came to the funeral, Holly remembered Vivian sitting next to him and talking. It was one of the few times Vivian had spontaneously spoken to anyone at that age, and certainly not about her feelings. Holly hadn't eavesdropped, but that night as she tucked in Vivian, she asked how Christian was.

The eight year old had informed her that he was hurt, and scared, and afraid of who he was going to be. And then she said she kinda understood that. Holly had hugged her daughter close and told Vivian she loved her. No matter who Vivian grew up to be, she'd be theirs and they would adore her.

"What's she thinking about?" Christian asked, eyeing Holly and leaning towards Vivian. "She looks all thoughtful."

Vivian leaned in as well. "Probably me as a kid. If it was Gail, she'd have this really adorable smile." She grinned.

"I was thinking I love you, but not if you're going to be all weird about it," smiled Holly.

Beside her, Gail found her hand and squeezed it. "She's always weird, Holly. She came weird."

"You like my weird," Vivian noted, gesturing with her bread. "Good kebabs, Mom."

"See? This is how I get treated at home, Christian," laughed Gail. "Same as always."

Christian looked down. "Thanks," he said softly. "I mean... That... When I was nine."

At nine, Christian had spent two weeks up at the cottage with Vivian, Olivia, and Matty, under the supervision of Gail and Holly. Gail called it hell and claimed the kids gave her a screaming headache. It had been loud and active, but the kids had loved every single minute. They got up early, swam, ran around like maniacs, ate all the food, and slept like the dead.

"That? That was nothing, Christian," waved Gail. "I wish Denise had let us do more."

"The money for college helped."

That had been Oliver's doing. He and Dov had set up a fund in Christian's name shortly after the funeral, and many of the officers donated a few bucks every day. Holly only knew about because she'd come to the division the day Dov cleaned out Chris' desk. While Gail had sat nearby, Dov said it was his job alone. He'd promised Chris that he'd do this, no matter what. That was when Oliver looked at a photo of a kid and a coffee jar, labeled 'Jerry's Kid' and suggested they do the same for Chris' kid.

Gail lifted her beer. "Thank Oliver and Dov. It was their idea."

"I did," he said softly. "It's... I really appreciate being a part of a family for a change."

Well that was sobering. "You're always welcome here," Holly said gently.

Christian insisted on helping with the dishes before leaving, and groaned when Vivian told him she'd see him the next morning for cross-training. With a cheerful good night, Vivian went upstairs to get some sleep and Holly sighed. Gail was still on the porch, relaxing on the swing bench.

Her wife didn't look almost fifty. But there were facts and one of them was that you couldn't stop time from turning. They were both older. The hair was still reddish blonde, having proven more resistant to grey than her brother's true red or her mother's bottle red. Gail had grown it out, cut it back off, dyed it brown and blonde, but the short look was still Holly's favorite. The skin was still pale and firm, the lips still soft, the eyes a bright blue … The eyes were closed. Holly smiled and stepped out onto the deck. "You fall asleep, honey?"

"Nope," said Gail, holding out a hand. Without hesitation, Holly sat next to her wife and slid an arm around her waist. "What's that big brain thinking about?"

"Thinking I'm lucky. Thinking Viv's lucky."

"I'm lucky too, Holly."

Kicking off a little, Holly rocked the swing back and forth. "Remember when we broke this?"

Gail snickered a laugh. "That was so embarrassing." There really wasn't enough room on it for fooling around, and yet they had tried and broken the swing. The crash had been rather loud. "I had that bruise on my ass for weeks." She had also complained about it for weeks.

"Given how colorfully you bruise, I'm not sure that's as big a deal as you're making it out to be."

"We're doing alright," sighed Gail, leaning against Holly comfortably. "I'm happy."

Holly smiled and closed her eyes. "So am I."

Her parents had made it all look so easy, even though it wasn't at all. Her wife's family made it look doomed to failure, or despair, but that wasn't right either. It was hard, it could be a struggle, and sometimes you said things you didn't mean, or felt things you didn't expect. But they did keep going. And they kept being happy.

* * *

As Vivian and Nick headed to their cruiser after Parade, they heard a shout that surprised Vivian and made Nick cringe.

"Nickelpeck 2.0!"

Nick actually winced. "I hated that the first time, Dov," he grumbled. Vivian smiled. So had her mother.

"And I hate that I, as Sergeant of Fifteen, have never won a division boxing match." Dov slung his arms around Vivian and her TO. "Give me good news or the nickname rides again."

Of course, Nick finked on her. "She's not letting me coach."

Dov eyed her. "Peckling."

"No. No, you are not Uncle Ollie." She squirmed away and shoved Dov's arm off her shoulders. "Mom's helping."

The two men looked shocked and pointed upstairs. "You got your _mom_ to help? Did Gail have dirt on some golden glove hero?" Dov was flabbergasted.

"No, I got my _mom_ to help. You know, the one who likes sports?"

Enlightenment dawned. "I forgot. She used to play hockey too."

Technically Holly still did play, though far less competitively than she had when Vivian had been younger. A fifty-five year old playing hard-core hockey was a little impressive in Vivian's mind. Holly was still in great shape, as was Gail, which was a little more remarkable given her antipathy to exercise. "We've got in covered," promised Vivian.

"Good," Dov grinned and clapped her shoulder. "Serve and protect, Nickelpeck."

As Dov got out of earshot, and they got to their vehicle for the day, Nick muttered, "Of all the things he had to learn from Oliver, why was it that?"

"Isn't Nickelpeck a band?"

"Nickel _back_ is a band. A really bad band. That was started before you were even born, Jesus... I'm old."

There'd been a lot of that going around lately. "You should call them Peckstein next time they partner up," suggested Vivian, and Nick grinned evilly.

"I like your evil, Little Peck."

Before Vivian could remark that she was taller than her mothers, Nick held out the keys. "Wait, really? I can drive?" She snatched them before he could answer, much to the delight of nearby officers.

Leaning on the roof of his car, Moore laughed. "Better watch out, Nick. She set a record on the driver's course."

"I've been warned," he smiled. "Going to let yours drive?"

Both TOs looked at Lara Volk, practically bouncing. "What do you think, Volk? You ready to drive?" Duncan Moore held the keys up.

Lara looked at Vivian. "Hell yeah," she said. "Can't let SuperPeck have all the fun."

"I like that one better, Collins. Can I keep SuperPeck?"

"No." Nick laughed.

With a shrug, Duncan tossed the keys over. "Don't leave the keys inside," cautioned Vivian, smirking. "I heard some rookie in McNally's class did that and got the cruiser stolen." Oliver had told her that story about Dov many times.

The reminder caused Nick to almost choke on his coffee as he got into the passenger seat. "Watch it, Peck. We're the ones in 1504," he warned, smiling. 1504 was cursed. Everyone knew it.

"I took the cursed radio, oughta balance out," noted Vivian, getting in and buckling up.

Driving on patrol turned out to be a hell of a lot harder than Vivian had thought. No small wonder Gail was so damn good at doing a million things at once. You had to listen to your partner, keep an eye on everything, know where you were going, where you'd been, where you were, how fast you were going, and do the mapping and mathing to get you to the next place asap.

By lunch, Vivian had a headache.

"Giving up?" Nick smiled as he caught Vivian pushing the heel of her palm above an eye.

"Not on your life," she snapped. In her head, it sounded like Gail. Based on Nick's face, she must have. "I can do this."

Nick shook his head. "Okay, but eat your sandwich." She picked up the sandwich, picked by Nick, and eyed it. Tomatoes. Habit drove her to pluck them off. "Seriously? You don't eat tomatoes?"

"No one eats tomatoes at home," shrugged Vivian. She didn't mind them, but once, just once, she had a salad with them and had kissed Gail's cheek. That was when Vivian really understood how allergic her mother was.

The man who was once engaged to her spunky, spitfire mother looked thoughtful. "Holly stopped eating tomatoes at home before they even started dating." He leaned back against their cruiser.

Vivian cleared her throat. "You know I know, right?"

"Know what?"

"Vegas."

He looked surprised. "I didn't." Nick took a long sip from his soda. "Does it bother you?"

"Only that it means Mom wasn't kidding when she said Fifteen is a soap opera." Vivian took a big bite of the sandwich. "I'm not dating a cop."

Nick laughed. "You say that now, but oh man. Besides, you already dated your boss' daughter."

"Okay, we do not have that level intimacy in our relationship, Collins," she said dryly. Then Vivian laughed and threw her napkin at him.

He laughed back, but any reply was lost when their radio crackled to life. "We have reports of an armed 10-41 in a food truck." Dispatch read off the address and that 1509, Lara and Duncan's cruiser, was on site and needed backup.

Hoping off the hood of the cruiser, Vivian tossed the rest of her food while Nick replied. "Dispatch, 1504. 10-4, we're five minutes out, tops."

"1504, Dispatch, copy that, recording you as en route."

"Go time, Peck," said Nick as he buckled in.

Vivian tried to keep the smile off her face as she sped through the streets, siren on. This was part of the job she knew Gail loved. That moment of power and control. It was easier to stay calm when driving to a scene if only because she didn't have the spare brain power to flip out over the idea of an armed subject. The worse and more terrifying things got, the calmer Vivian felt. Paradox?

They pulled up at the store in question, parking to block the food truck, and radioed in. Within the store, they heard Duncan. "Hear that? Jonas, that's my backup. Now it's going to get messy, so put the gun down, okay?"

There was no one around besides the truck and their cars. Where were the cooks? Didn't food trucks have three people? Vivian tried to remember... Saturdays she and her moms went for walks and Holly always tried to find a new place to eat. It was often a food truck since they frequented the park where they all went running. The best were the Latin ones, in Vivian's opinion, and they were always understanding when Gail's allergy came up.

Nick waved for her to go to the front of the truck and made a sign for keys. Vivian nodded, gun drawn, and slowly crept along the back, keeping out of sight. She opened the door as quietly as possible, listening to Duncan and 'Jonas.' The engine was off, so she eased the keys off the seat and nearly pissed herself. There was a person, hiding in the cab, crammed in between the passenger seat and the dash.

"Sir, you've got to get out," she hissed. "We're here to help you."

The damned thing was she couldn't radio. Andy had her on band, she and Nick didn't have a secondary that she remembered. God, Vivian hoped she hadn't just forgotten.

The man stared at her blankly, not replying. "Sir, I'm the police. Just open the door and get out."

He shook his head and lifted a hand in frustration.

Wait... He was looking at her face intently. And the motion was something she recognized.

Vivian shoved the keys in her thigh pocket and signed, very carefully. _Do you understand?_

His eyes widened and he nodded. Then he signed back that he was stuck. She nodded, told him to stay there, and stepped back. Could she see Nick? Yes! She waved to catch his attention and pointed to the cab of the truck, giving him the stupid army sign for 'someone's in here.'

Nick's face went flat and he flashed a thumbs up, giving her two numbers and tapping his radio.

Fuck, those numbers better be new. Vivian switched channels and spoke as quietly and clearly as she could. "4727, there's a witness stuck in the cab of the food truck. He's deaf."

"Copy that, 4727." The voice was someone she knew... Sherri? No. Tassie. The new one. It really didn't matter, though. "Can you get him out?"

"Negative. Passenger side is in view for the suspect."

"Roger. Can you-" Tassie paused. "Communicate to the wit to stay still and we'll get him out as soon as we can."

"Copy that," confirmed Vivian. Someone had probably told Tassie that she knew sign language. Creeping back to the door, Vivian relayed that information to the witness who liked like anyone who thought he was getting out of there was an idiot.

The truck rocked a little and Vivian glanced back at Nick. He wanted her to stay there. Then Duncan screamed and all hell broke loose.

* * *

As Gail was packing up for the day, John walked in. "Check it out, deep fried dollars!"

She looked up to see him holding up his phone. Squinting at the photo, she sighed and put her reading glasses on. Gail hated getting old. "Someone put money in a … deep fat fryer?"

"Spilled would be more accurate," admitted John, clearly amused. "Also threw hot oil at Gerald."

It was uncharitable, but Gail smiled. "Not badly?" When John shook his head, she shoved her laptop in her bag. "Good. Anything I need to do about the case today?" Her sergeant hesitated. "Give it up, John."

"Well. Your kid was there."

"That doesn't mean I need to do anything, Simmons," she pointed out. In fact, it meant she should try to do as little as possible. "She okay?"

"Oh yeah, she's downstairs translating." Gail must have looked as confused as she felt, because John added, "Sign language. Guy tried to rob a food truck. Apparently the owner had pulled over to take a piss, robber saw the opportunity and knocked him out. The cook, he's the deaf guy, texted 911 and hid in the passenger seat."

Gail grinned. "Nice. And the robber?"

Flipping open his notes, John frowned. "The other rookie, Volk? She tackled him right out of the van after he burnt Gerald."

Tackled. Interesting choice of words. "Well. Good for Volk, but that sounds pretty reckless." She tapped on her watch, texting Vivian to ask if she was staying late or wanted a ride. There was no reply right away. Not surprising.

"I seem to recall a story about a certain blonde flinging a perp out of a an ambulance," noted John, amused. Gail flipped him off. "Go home. I'll follow up on this and let you know if anything needs your attention, but I doubt it."

"Don't work too late. And when do I get to met the new girl?" After years of what Holly had called 'serial monogamy' where he'd break up as soon as it got near the subject of moving in together, John had met a woman and gotten suddenly quiet about it. Gail had a feeling that meant it was a little serious.

John scratched his nose. "Later." He looked back at his notebook, closed it, and frowned. "We don't have a date tonight," he added.

Awkward John was always fun, so Gail half teased him, "How about you tell me her name for starters."

"Janet Mehta." And he held his phone out again.

Gail blinked. "Hey, I was kidding, John."

He shrugged. "I know, but ... You're a friend, Gail."

He shook the phone and she took it, looking at a shortish Indian woman. She was dressed in jeans and a tank-top, laughing at something off camera. Not Gail's type (being neither a nerdy librarian nor Holly), but she was attractive. The name of Mehta meant she might be of Punjabi descent. And Gail wondered if John remembered that happened to be one of the languages Gail spoke.

She opted not to point that out. "Where'd you meet her?"

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"Of all the gifts the universe gave me, John, that was not one," warned Gail. He knew it, but he was still asking. This was about to be embarrassing.

John took his phone back. "We met on a dating website."

Oh. Oh that was going to be worth teasing him about much later. She smiled and tamped it down, lest she scare him off. "At least tell me it's not ," Gail laughed softly. "Seriously, as someone who met her wife at a crime scene, I'm not judging."

And that was the truth. Tease yes, judge no. She and John chatted about that for a while, about meeting people and how hard it was, until Gail got a text from Vivian, saying she'd take the ride if it was still available. Extorting a promise from John to get to meet Janet before summer was over, Gail went down to her car and met up with her kid.

"Thanks for sticking around." Vivian tossed her bag in the back and changed her watch to her smart watch.

"I heard you got a gunman," smiled Gail as she buckled up. The car started with the press of a button, which was still novel after twenty years. She liked the new Ford Detective Package. For years she'd been a firm Chevy girl, but when Gail saw the new Ford, she'd been hella impressed.

Vivian smirked, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat. "I saw Sgt. Simmons. You like the deep fried dollars?"

Yeah, that was her kid alright. "Gave me ideas for dinner. So. Gunman?"

"Lara took him down." Vivian detailed the story, how she'd found the man hiding in the cab of the truck. He'd ducked down to find a lost pen while his partner took a whizz. The rocking in the back of the truck had confused him, so he slid the window to peek in back and realized they were being robbed. The 911 text was how Duncan and Lara ended up there. When Duncan realized the man was armed, they radioed for backup.

The drama with the hot oil was less drama than it had sounded. The robber had struggled with Duncan over the bag of money meant for the bank. In the struggle, the bag was ripped open and the robber fell back, slapping the fryer's handle, splashing Duncan. Much to Gail's relief, Vivian both called Duncan by his proper name (Gerald) and said he was only burnt a little on the arm.

According to Vivian, Lara would probably win the awesome case of the week award. That was something new to Gail, and her daughter explained that Jenny kept track of everyone's work and awarded points for arrests and busts and all those things. Vivian had won a handful of times, all the while insisting she wasn't playing at all.

They got home to an empty house and no sign of Holly. That wasn't unusual. Vivian ran up to start a load and wash her uniform. While a lot of cops took theirs to the dry cleaner, Pecks knew how to wash at home. Because you couldn't rely on others. Gail sighed. It was a terrible reason to know some of those tricks. She pulled out her phone and texted.

_Hey wife, you planning on coming home?_

The answer was eyebrow lifting.

_As soon as the Mounties call me back._

Why would the Mounties be bothering her wife? Instead of asking, Gail started making dinner, including tempura vegetables and fish. The tempura would be fried to satiate her craving but not too oily to incur the wrath of Holly and her diet. Making sure to pick the foods Holly liked best, Gail relaxed into the zen of cooking.

It had done more for her moods than yoga, the cooking had. She still did the yoga regularly, even the crazy sauna yoga with Lisa and Rachel, but the cooking was a nice, every day relaxation. Her family knew it and didn't mess with her when she was zoned out cooking.

That also meant that when Vivian joined her at the prep work, her quiet kid needed a mom a little bit. "Where's Mom?"

"Working late."

"Sucks."

Gail smiled. "It does." She leaned into Vivian's shoulder. "What's up?" Her kid shook her head and washed the rice. "Was it the deaf guy?" Another head shake. "Gerald? He always makes me feel like the planet is doomed."

There was the faintest nod from Vivian. Unlike Gail, who took the world head on and dared it to fuck with her, Vivian sat back and watched. Unlike Holly, who watched and unraveled the mysteries in her mind and proudly presented them to the world, Vivian kept her thoughts to herself. Gail had wondered for a while what kind of cop she'd be. Methodical, patient, smart. She wasn't like any of them. Vivian was not the kind of cop the Pecks had beaten into Gail's head. Maybe Gail would ask her mother if Oliver was like that when he was a rookie. He was so sociable, though...

Why was it so hard to know what to do with your own kid? She was a kid, right? She was Gail and Holly's kid, whom they'd raised for eighteen years. And, yes, they still had doubts about how much those first six would sit on Vivian, they knew they loved her unconditionally. Vivian was a great person. She handled stress and drama, when it wasn't romance related, rather well. She was caring and thoughtful.

Really, Gail's doubts were still that her daughter's soft heart would eat her alive at the job. The agony that kids like Sophie and Alexiane had ripped out of her and Holly was something Vivian would face every day. And Viv's heart itself may still be in agony from her own childhood. It was just unknown.

Finally Vivian spoke up. "It's scarier when it's not you. When you have to be in charge for someone else. Everything happens so fast." Vivian didn't look up, she just busied herself with the food. "And driving is _hard_."

"It is," agreed Gail.

"You made it look easy."

Gail snorted. "Kiddo, I have been a cop for your whole life. It's easy because I do it ever day."

"Remember the car accident?" Vivian glanced over. "On the way up to the cottage?"

That had been a long time ago. "The hit and run? The guy in those stupid shorts and the bicycle that cost more than your first car?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dork, Mom. That's still my car."

"I remember," smiled Gail. "What about it?"

The rice maker clicked on. "You remembered _everything_. The license plate, the car make and model, what the driver looked like, how fast everyone was going. It was ... Cool. And daunting."

Cool? She was cool? "I'm a cop, Viv. I'm supposed to remember all that stuff."

"I can't," Vivian said softly, looking at her hands.

"Not yet," assured Gail. "But one day you will." Vivian looked doubtful. "What? You think I could do all this from birth? Elaine spent many a night quizzing me if I wanted dessert."

Those had not been the fun days of her youth. Gail recalled missing out of Steve's birthday cake one year because she couldn't remember what shirts all his friends wore.

Taking that thoughtfully, Vivian pulled out the mesh scoop for the frying. It was relatively normal for things with her daughter. Gail reacted first and Holly dissected, both usually verbally and noticeably. Vivian thought and didn't share. So it wasn't weird for her to take a revelation like that and process it first.

They still hadn't moved back on to conversation when the garage sounded and Holly came in.

"You both suck," grumbled Holly, heading right upstairs.

Vivian looked surprised. "What did we do?"

The voice of long experience, Gail sighed. "We'll find out in a moment." She dug her phone out of her pocket and tabbed through her work messages. Nothing had buzzed her as high priority which, if this was related to the Mounties, it should have... As she looked at the phone, it rang. The superintendent (aka her boss). "I need to take this, can you...?"

Her daughter nodded and Gail listened to her boss detailed exactly what was going on. It was certainly not what she'd expected. The case was convoluted, but only the Mounties really handled those cases. Gail, being the lead for OC in the Division, was expected to be their intermediary. It didn't hurt that she had a good relationship with the Mounties after all.

"Damn it, Gerald," muttered Gail as she hung up.

"Oh good," sighed Holly, tying her damp hair back in a ponytail. "Because just one of us working a case is too simple."

Gail shoved her phone in her pocket. "Oh, it gets better. I need some cannon fodder to go out for this one."

They both turned to look at Vivian, who had a tempura bean in her mouth. "What?"

* * *

Sitting in the third row, beside Christian, Vivian grinned broadly. On their run that morning she'd told him to be ready for an awesome case come the morning. She told him nothing more, so when they walked into Parade and saw Gail, John, and Dov talking to a decked out Mountie, he punched her arm. Then they took their seats quickly before anyone asked what they were doing.

Lara squeezed in on Vivian's other side. "That's Major Crimes," she hissed at Vivian, excited. "My case! I got to talk to them today!"

Leaning around, Christian asked, "Who?"

"The Mountie and the hot guy. He's a total silver fox."

"Sgt. John Simmons," muttered Vivian, trying not to gag at the thought of her mother's partner as a hottie. The Mountie on the other hand was sexy as hell. Once she'd seen the photos of Gail undercover in a Mountie uniform, and Holly's overt feelings on the outfit were clear. At the time, Vivian hadn't really understood and just thought her moms were a little gross. Now she got it. Women in uniform were sexy.

At the front, Dov cleaned his throat. "Okay, settle down." The room fell quiet. "Yesterday, Officers Moore and Volk caught a food truck robber. I'm happy to say that the Hearing Hearos truck will be providing lunch, gratis, at the next softball game." There was scattered applause. "Also for anyone wondering, Officer Moore will be fine. The burns are superficial." Less applause. "The evidence was a bit of a surprise though. Detectives?"

Gail sipped her coffee. "The money recovered from the scene was counterfeit." The silence was palpable. Vivian hadn't known that particular detail, but it explained why Holly had been at work late. "Some of it. OC's been at the food trucks all night and it turns out someone's been using food trucks to launder money. Today there's a street fair down by the lake shore. You guys are going, in plain clothes."

Undercover! Kind of. But still. This was the part Vivian had overheard and frankly she had been looking forward to this all night. "Now I know tonight is Fite Nite," said Dov carefully. "So I want you guys to wrap it up early enough to come support our boy, Fuller, in the ring."

Clearly less worried about that, Gail rolled her eyes. "Some of you are going to be working in the food trucks. Some of you will be patrons. I've worked out who's assigned to what with your TOs. Volk, Hanford, you'll be locals out to try some food. Peck, Aronson, you both will be working the food trucks."

Because Gail knew Vivian could cook. That was fine. "Ma'am, what about me?" Christian had his hand half raised.

"You, Officer Fuller, will be assisting Sgt. Irene Goguen, of the RCMP, while she's here at the station."

Christian's face fell. "Assisting?"

With a smile Vivian knew was trouble, Gail nodded. "Assisting. Like getting her real coffee and not the swill we drink. Speaking of... Irene, there's a great coffee shop down the street."

The Mountie smiled back. "Americano, no sugar, please," she said to Christian. There was a pause and Gail cleared her throat. Vivian elbowed Christian who blurted 'Now?' And then he asked what the other higher ranking officers wanted before rushing out with the list.

"Now, the rest of you, go change. Peck and Aronson, report to Sgt. Simmons. He has your outfits." Gail nodded at John. "I'll be in Sgt. Epstein's office."

While the others filed out, Vivian and Jenny walked up to John. "Peck, I know what you can cook. Aronson, your family owns a restaurant?"

"My aunt and uncle own a Greek restaurant," replied Jenny, surprisingly. She side eyed Vivian, wonderingly.

"Perfect. We have a Greek truck. Peck, that means you get Mexican. You'll both work the front, handling the money. These trucks are cash only and we have a scanner for you to check the bills."

They went through how to check the bills a few times. John made sure they were able to do it quickly and without being too obvious before he handed them the outfits. They wore their own jeans with a shirt for the food truck instead of their own clothes. Vivian toyed with the idea of her own watch but left it in her locker.

"Hey, Peck. Why does Sgt. Simmons know you can cook?"

Vivian hesitated. The real answer was that she'd cooked diner more than once with him there. When Vivian was 20, Gail had broken her left hand, so Vivian had done nearly all the cooking for two months. "He used to date my aunt Rachel," decided Vivian. This was true. It was also 18 years ago.

Simple Jenny seemed to accept that. "Man, do you know _all_ the officers here?"

"Uh, pretty much, yeah," she admitted. "You met Oliver."

Jenny hesitated and then shook her head. "My grandfather was a cop. So was my dad."

That was news to Vivian. Jenny hadn't mentioned it and she didn't know any Aronsons. "Really? In Toronto?"

Nodding, Jenny said a name. "Terzakis."

The name rang a bell. "Nico Terzakis? The..." Vivian stopped. Nico had worked in Fifteen. And been taken down by IA for extortion and money laundering. He'd been funneling money through evidence. The one time she'd hung out with Marlo, at a cops and their families event, Marlo had told her about how that case made her mark in IA. Vivian had kind of liked Marlo. What Marlo saw in Sam was beyond her, though.

"You know?" When Vivian nodded, Jenny sighed. "Yeah. I took Mom's name."

"Don't blame you," agreed Vivian. She'd done the opposite, taking the name that was known, and over the last five years she'd come to regret it. The people who knew she'd taken the Peck name came with two assumptions. Either she was using the name to jump the queue and be advanced by preference, or she did it as a big fuck-you to the Pecks who were assholes.

Neither was the case. She'd had trouble explaining it for years, but it was really simple. The name Peck was the name of people who had survived horrible things. The name Peck was a shield that meant when those things happened again, she would never be alone. It was a safe name. And most importantly, it wasn't Green.

She didn't want to think about that just then. "Wait, that means your grandfather is Stephanos Terzakis. He has the record on parole violation arrests in TwentySeven! Why didn't you go there?"

Jenny shrugged. "I wanted to make up for it... How the hell did you know that? Are you a walking encyclopedia of police lore?"

"No, just a Peck," sighed Vivian.

"Is that why you don't want to play? Scoring your week, I mean. Do they frown on it?"

That implied Jenny knew who the Pecks were, beyond just a name. "You know?"

"Peck is kinda hard to miss."

Vivian shook her head. "They never said anything about it. Not out loud, at least. But they're pretty amazingly silently judgy." It was weird, but maybe this was making friends too? Did that mean she was friends with Rich? Ew.

"Yeah, see that's why I'm not at TwentySeven." Jenny tied her shoes.

Hesitating, Vivian asked, "Why didn't you tell anyone? About me, I mean. I know why you'd keep yourself ..."

Jenny looked surprised. "I dunno… I guess because you get enough shit for that already? I figured either you were a real Peck or it was the universe's most shitty coincidence."

"I don't think you're allowed to be a cop and Peck if you're not actually a real Peck."

They both laughed. "Is there even a station without a Peck?"

Again, Viv shook her head and headed to the door. "Nary a one. And they have to pay a fine if they don't have one. Box of donuts every day."

As she left the room, she heard Jenny shouting after, asking if that donut fine was for real.

They got wired and checked out on the food trucks before heading out to the event. With a dozen food trucks and only two staked out, they were hoping to get lucky. Ninety percent luck, that's what Elaine always said.

John gave them one final run through. "Okay. We'll be listening the whole time. If you get the bogus bills, when you hand them the food, repeat their name and use the code word. Which is?"

Vivian and Jenny looked at each other and sighed. "Order up. We got some _hot_ food trucks!" The words weren't bad, it was just the way they were supposed to pronounce it. Making it sound 'cool.' Vivian was sure that Chloe had come up with it. She had a moronic hot dog chant, which Vivian had heard a hundred times at sports events growing up, that sounded similar.

"Perfect. Serve the food, check the money, don't screw up." John looked torn between amusement and seriousness.

"Yes, sir," they said together and went to their trucks.

The Mexican food smelled amazing. As she took the third seat, Vivian asked, "How are you guys not a million pounds?"

The driver, Felix, laughed. "You'll burn it off today, officer. It gets hot in here and we're hustling."

His partner, Eli, smiled. "You ever worked food before?"

"I help at the annual division barbecue. Have since I was ten." The men shared a look of concern. Vivian couldn't fault them on it. "I do know how to cook. But I'll stay out of your way as much as possible. Work the front, take the orders, serve them out. Trust me, you got the best cop here. I'm way better at memorizing faces. And I can do the math in my head for taxes." She smiled. "Besides, I got an uncle named Eli, so we're basically related now."

The men laughed, seemingly put at ease, and proceeded to tell Vivian all about what the work would be like.

For all Vivian had been worrying the day (and night) before about not being able to do what Gail could, about not handling all the things at once, the hectic pace of the food truck _and_ watching the people and the cash was... Easy. It was easy. It was like she could put half of her brain into working the truck and half into cop, and then she was still able to pay attention to the rest of it. Was this what Gail had meant?

The shifty guy in the Green Bay Packers hat was reported with just a comment about how he maybe shouldn't be such a dick to his girlfriend. The skittish woman in a blue shirt was, momentarily, studied while Vivian passed out four orders and took another. It was all clicking the way it was supposed to. That grove Gail promised she'd fine, where her brain did just pay attention, without needing to be forced to do so, was real.

Vivian felt like a cop.

Then she heard Jenny, from down the row. "We got some _hot_ food trucks!"

The earwig in her ear spoke up. "Eyes on our guy. Name's Noah, jeans, brown shirt that says 1978 in retro letters. Light brown hair, white skin."

"Yeah," said Vivian as casually as she could. "I see it by the waffle truck." Then she took an order from someone else. "Sorry, we're cash only," she pointed out, tapping the sign.

The young woman looked surprised. "Really? Still? Haven't you heard of Square?"

Vivian smiled. "Sure, and we lose 3.5% on transactions, 4.2% plus an extra 20¢ if we have to manually enter it, plus credit card fees, so that $9 you pay turns into $8 or less. But if it's cash, we save money and your credit card fees stay low. There's an ATM around the corner by the blue parasol."

The woman eyed Vivian. "How much would that really be if you manually entered it?"

"Depends what the order is."

"Two carnita taquitos with avocado slaw and a side of the chip mix."

There was something about the tone that was different. The woman was hitting on her? Vivian grinned. "$15.13."

Pulling out a twenty, the woman laughed. "You made that up."

"Did not. Double carnitas, $9. Avo slaw is $3 extra, and another $4 for the chips, which are an awesome choice. $16 total. Minus 67¢ in fees plus 20¢ extra." She turned to the cooks and handed the slip to Felix, "Order in."

"That was impressive." The woman leaned against the truck, smiling toothily.

Vivian demurred, "Just basic math. $16 please, and your name?"

"Ami, with an I." Before Vivian pointed out she didn't need the spelling, Ami scribbled something on the bill and slid it over. "And that's my number."

The voice in her ear laughed. "Rock on, Little Peck."

She was going to kill John later. "It'll be 10 minutes," Vivian replied, feeling abruptly shy. Flirting she was good at. Flirting was fun and safe. This was ... Well. Picking up girls at work was a Peck tradition in a way. She swiped the bill as she got the change and saw the alert light up. Crap. "Four is your change."

"No number?" Ami looked faux disappointed.

"Maybe I'll call you after work," offered Vivian, with a shy smile. Her stomach was in knots and she barely heard the jokes from her earwig.

Felix put an order by her elbow. "Order 29 is up. We're running out of slaw."

With an apologetic look to Ami, Vivian turned to her temporary coworker. "How many servings left?"

"Ten."

She nodded and picked up the order. "Bobby G, order up. Fish and chips, super hot." Spotting the customer, Vivian passed over the food. "Thanks, have a great day."

In between handling the next round of customers, Vivian tucked the bogus bill in the security bag. When Ami's order came up, she must have looked annoyed because Eli spoke up. "You don't like that girl? She looked pretty cute."

"Oh, that's not the problem," sighed Vivian, taking the food. The guys knew the signal. They'd been briefed so as not to be confused. "Ami! Order up! We got come _hot_ food trucks!"

There was a weird silence from both her earwig and the back of the food truck. "Man," muttered Felix.

"That was more than ten minutes," sassed Ami.

"Twelve and a bit, sorry, we had to chop a fresh avocado for you."

Ami smiled brightly and put a toonie in the tip jar. "Smells great." She mimed a phone with her free hand, mouthed 'call me,' and walked off.

If Vivian could have bashed her forehead into the table and not be thought of as insane, she might have done so. God. Of all the luck.

* * *

Rarely did Holly make it to Fite Nite. As much as she actually did like boxing in genera, she and Gail had a bad association with the date. This was, after all, the anniversary of their most idiotic breakup. But she had also trained Christian, and her daughter was his corner man. Woman. Whatever. So Holly was obligated to go for once.

Truth be told, she was a little excited. Not that she loved pugilism. Of all the sports she'd played, she liked it the least. Even MMA was better. But to see someone she'd trained have a round was, well, kind of exciting. And Christian was like a nephew to her. When she met him for the first time, it was at Chris' funeral. He'd been so serious and sad. That was when she also met Denise, and feared that Gail might unload on the woman. All the years later, Gail was still mad about how Denise had played Chris for the fool.

But they both liked Christian. As a toddler, he'd been allergic to everything (including grass), but much of that turned out to be Denise having Munchausen's By Proxy. Dov and Gail and Oliver had road-tripped up to Timmins, twice, to handle that, and while they'd never managed to get Christian out of Denise's hands, they had been able to give the boy a stabilizing influence. He knew he was loved, no matter how insane his mother was.

And Christian had grown up into a sweet, darling young man. He was painfully earnest, desperate to prove his worth. While it had been a surprise to Gail and Holly that he wanted to be a police officer in Toronto, Vivian had been writing to him for years and admitted he'd asked her not to tell them. He didn't want to disappoint them if he failed.

Right then, Holly was just happy that her part of the case was over in time. She'd spent most of the night before going over the fact that she had counterfeits. Holly had been surprised when the bills came through the lab. At first, they'd mostly been amused that some of the bills were fried in oil. But then they realized some bills had reacted differently to the oil than others. The ink had inconsistently changed colors in some places.

That turned into them testing the ink in all the bills, and they quickly found a slew of twenties that were all fake. One quick call the the Mounties, who handled counterfeiting, and suddenly she had a mess on her hands.

And the mess was her kid's fault for being involved in that stupid case. And her wife, for not being able to take the major case right away. And the Mounties, for having a person stationed in Toronto. Though Irene was actually very nice, neither she nor Holly had appreciated the idea of giving up the whole night to the work.

Now it was Gail's turn though, finding the counterfeiters. She'd remarked that they'd probably send Chloe and her undercover minions after them if it looked like the right idea. Chloe was still Gail's go-to cop for undercover, and with good reason. Chloe was amazing at undercover work.

Neither Gail nor Chloe were around.

"Holly!" The familiar voice of her sister-in-law cut through the crowd. "You came! Where's the bitchy one?"

"Stuck with Irene the hot Mountie," grinned Holly, hugging Traci hello. "She said the fight was at nine but..."

They both looked up at the ring, where two women were duking it out. "Oh that's ThirtyOne and the Big Building. We have three more fights until our baby boy." Traci shook her head. "Do you know, I won in our year."

Holly nodded. "Peck's told me. Over and over. I think it was one of the warnings they gave Steve when you guys got engaged."

"That sounds like something they'd say," laughed Traci. "I can't believe I'm going to be married eighteen years this fall! How did that happen?"

"Don't look at me," Holly muttered. "Next year is twenty. The mothers have taken over." Lily and Elaine decided that, since they never really had a public ceremony, and since their ten year was just a party at the Penny with Karaoke and friends, they needed a real, big, party. Gail was already protesting.

"Do it once, they'll forgive us for not giving them actual grandbabies."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Hey, I gave them a kid."

"You cheated with a pre-baked child," teased Traci. "Speaking of, where is she?"

"Hopefully with Christian... Where is he?"

"The prep room. Go past the stands where Dov and the white shirts are, Fifteen's is on the left."

Thanking Traci, Holly scooted around the crowd and ducked into the back to find Christian. The young man was sitting on a bench in his trunks and boots, but with a sweatshirt on and his hands not even wrapped. "Christian! Why aren't you ready?"

"Dr. Stewart! I'm waiting on Viv," he explained, looking mournful.

Holly sighed and picked up his wraps. "Give me a hand. Why is she not here?"

Extending his left hand, Christian cleared his throat. "She's getting told off for flirting with a suspect. Except it's not fair! The suspect flirted with her!"

She started to wrap the bandages around his hand, eyebrows raised. "The suspect flirted with her? This was the counterfeiter?"

"Yes, ma'am. We caught 'em. The Mounties are all stoked."

"Good. It was a really clever copy, too. Did they show you?"

As Christian was jittery tense, she told him about the technical aspects of the case, letting the Patented Stewart Babble sooth his nerves. Just as she wrapped his second hand, Vivian came running in, sweating, in her uniform undershirt. "Sorry, sorry, all good- oh thank god, Mom."

"You're late," chided Holly, smiling. "Get him ready." She patted Christian's knee. "You're good. Kick ass."

"Yes'm," nodded Christian at his most earnest, eyes locked on Vivian.

Leaving them be, Holly headed back out and bumped into one of the other rookies. "S'cuse me, you're not supposed to be here," said the young man. He looked like a bit of a dude.

"I'm a friend of Christian's," she pointed out, smiling at the young man. They looked so young. They were infants. Had she and Gail ever been that young? It felt like a lifetime ago.

The young man tilted his head. "Well. I guess that's okay," he muttered. His eyes drifting up and down her. "You're from the lab, right?"

"I am. Dr. Holly Stewart." Had the man played attention at all to things at the lab, like the name on the paperwork, he'd know her name. He clearly didn't.

Extending his hand, he grinned in a way that was supposed to be rakish, she supposed. "Rich Hanford. Pleased to meet you."

It did not escape Holly that his eyes went to her left hand. She'd not put her ring back on after work. As horrible as it was, Holly loved the moments where the rookies who were cougar hunters hit on her, just for the inevitable moment when they realized she was married to an Inspector in their building. "You wouldn't happen to know where the drinks are, would you?"

Rich beamed at her. "I sure do. Are you here with someone?"

"No, surprisingly." Gail had texted to say she was running late, after all. The odds were that Gail would skid in right before the fight. She wouldn't miss this one.

"Let me buy you a drink," he said, not asking it as a question. Oh the poor boy.

Holly smiled. "A beer, please. Thank you, Rich."

He led her over to the drinks, using a coupon (hah!) to pay for her drink. "So what do you do in the lab?"

Clearly he hadn't done anything by way of looking into who ran things. "I'm a medical examiner," she said smoothly, popping the beer cap off and taking a sip.

"Wow, I just saw my first autopsy last month. It was pretty wild."

That was when the name clicked. Vivian had told her about Rich, who had tossed his cookies and then gave her grief for eating lunch afterward. "Oh, the man who died robbing the marijuana dispensary? That was an interesting case. You were the rookie in the van?"

"Yeah," he beamed. "Me and Princess Peck. Pretty cool."

"Princess?" She tilted her head. Her kid was a princess.

"Yeah, she's total police royalty, I guess. Bazillion Pecks around here."

Well. That was true. "I suppose that makes sense," agreed Holly.

Rich must have seen something in her face, as he quickly spoke again. "Oh, but she's actually pretty cool. I mean, she doesn't play it up. She just, you know how some people have advantages 'cause they're born into the right family? That's all."

Before Holly could comment, her name was shouted. "Holly!" Dov bounced down the stairs. "Come here!"

She smiled at Rich. "Sorry, it was nice to meet you, Rich."

"You too, Doc," he agreed and watched her as she went up the seats to the white shirts.

Dov hugged her and whispered, "Why are you letting him hit on you?"

"Because it'll be hilarious when he figures it out," laughed Holly.

"God, you and Gail are terrible." But he wasn't really complaining. "You have the same evil sense of humor."

It was true. "You love us for it. Now, where is my snarkier half?"

"Finishing up. She'll make Christian's fight, but they want the lawyers done so they don't have to work all weekend."

That was a good idea. "Alright. I hate having her distracted all weekend."

"Seriously, she gets all Peckish," agreed Dov.

"Is my kid going to be mopey?"

"Viv? Why should she?"

"I heard she got yelled at for hitting on a suspect?"

Dov laughed. "Oh hell no. No, she got the suspect's number, details on her, and we used that to catch both her and her brother. I'll let her brag later. John was just giving her grief for flirting at crime scenes."

Rolling her eyes, Holly drank some beer. "That's entirely unfair from a group of people who are so incesteous."

"And yet John has never actually slept with anyone at work," the man pointed out.

"Oh fine," laughed Holly.

"Serious question, though. Do we have a chance?" He gestured at the ring. "I need a win. I might lose my wife for a month to this case."

It had been over a two decades since their Division had won Fite Nite. The whole time Holly had been familiar with them, they'd won nothing. She knew Dov took it personally. Add in the stress that came with your spouse vanishing for a case, and he was probably feeling it. "You know, technically Oliver was the sergeant when the streak started. So this is inherited."

Dov shook his head. "I carried it on." He exhaled loudly.

"Why didn't you talk Viv into fighting?"

"I tried, she said no and Gail threatened to make sure I didn't have any more kids." He took a long pull from his beer. "Pecks don't box."

That was interesting. Holly would have to ask her wife about that later.

"Winner, Big Building's Peggy!" The announcer held the hand up for the winner and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Holly broke out in a laugh and covered her mouth. Peggy was a phone operator. No one was going to be giving her grief any time soon.

* * *

Finally it was Christian's turn. "Okay, C, you got this," she told him, massaging his arms to keep them loose. "Remember, keep your guard, go for his upper chest and face. As soon as he brings his arms up, solar plexus."

Christian nodded, his eyes wide and a little wild. "And if he turtles, keep hitting his forearms and try for the side."

"You got it, my man."

They really only had one worry. Andrew was fast. He was damn fast. Vivian had seen him move, dancing around the ring and sending jab after jab after jab. He was a speed demon. And Christian, love him, was not fast. He wasn't slow. He had stamina and durability, but he was not super fast.

The announcer's voice echoed. "Final round! Ladies and gentlemen, officers of all ages, our last fight of the night is the oldest rivalry in Fite Nite history. The fighting Fifteen Division has been striving for a win for over twenty years. Is tonight the night they finally take the crown back from favorites TwentySeven?"

The crowd cheered and jeered in equal parts and Christian bounced on the balls of his feet. "Hell yes," he muttered under his breath.

Vivian clapped her hands on his shoulder. "That's right," she said firmly.

The announcer read off the information of Christian's opponent (Andrew the Thunder from the Bay, because he was from Thunder Bay), his height and weight, and then it was Christian's turn. Height, weight, and finally, "Christian, the Timmons Terror, Fuller!"

As the crowd screamed and cheered, they bounded out into the arena. It was a massive number of people, more than Vivian remembered seeing in the last five years. She liked Fite Nite. Once she turned 19, she'd come every year on her own since her Moms didn't really care for it. Gail said it was negative memories. Holly admitted she'd rather be with Gail than see people hit each other.

This felt different, and Vivian wasn't sure if it was because she was working or because she finally felt the pressure of the win. Her whole life with her Moms, Fifteen had never won. She remembered the year when she'd been sixteen that they _almost_ won, but the decision went to TwentySeven.

Vivian helped Christian out of his sweatshirt. "Okay, C. Guard up. Hit hard."

"Don't screw up," he grinned and opened his mouth.

She put the mouth guard in and slapped his bare shoulder. "That's my boy." She had the towel on her shoulder and gripped it right. Gail made her promise not to let Christian get really hurt.

The two men stepped out and glared at each other. As much as Christian glared at anyone. "Okay, gentlemen. I want a clean fight. Touch gloves, go to your corner, and come back fighting."

They tapped gloves and bounced back. Christian gripped the ropes, stretching one last time. Vivian was surprised to see how serious he looked. Not that C wasn't a serious guy, but he had never _looked_ super serious before. His eyes were sharper and narrower than Vivian had ever seen before.

As the bell rang, Christian nodded and pivoted, dashing to the center of the ring, ready. And promptly stopped a fist right in the nose. Vivian winced as Fifteen groaned. But, as Christian pivoted his waist and she caught a glimpse of his face. It was dark and dangerous. Those were things that she had never seen on his face before.

Fierce.

Christian turned from his waist, cocked his left arm, and swung with all the force behind the turn. He used the physics to his advantage. He hit hard. Vivian swore she saw Andrew get lifted off the ground. Holy crap. When Andrew landed, he bent at the waist and Christian swung again with his right, sending a shattering chop down on his head.

Just like that, Andrew was on the ground, the ref was separating the two, and Christian, bloody nose and all, turned back to his corner.

"Holy fuck," muttered Vivian, agog.

The ref counted down from ten. On two, Andrew somehow managed to get to his feet. The ref made him take three steps, checked his eyes, and then nodded, calling to fight on. Christian's guard was up, his head was down and protected, and he plowed in again.

This was his tactic to fight the speed! He wasn't going to give Andrew a chance to rev up his engine. Christian was brilliant. How had she not thought about it before? With his head down, Christian punched from the waist and hammered Andrew, pushing him into the opposite corner. He hit at the shoulder level over and over, like Holly had suggested, until Andrew's guard raised.

It was that moment that gave the win to Fifteen. It was the instant, the second in time that Christian moved just right that changed the world. He twisted slightly, his feet planted wide, his hips turned just enough, and he swung hard from the waist. Right, left, right, left, over and over and over, until a flash of white flew in the air and the ref was grabbing him. Vivian stumbled through the ropes, rushing to grab Christian's other arm and pull him back.

Andrew collapsed to the ground the second the force of Christian's blows stopped keeping him upright.

Fifteen was an uproar. The cheers were deafening. "C! C! You won!" She had to shout into his ear. His whole body was still tense and hot, like he was on fire. "Christian! Fight's over!"

Finally the words broke into his head. Christian spat the mouthpiece into his glove. "Over? Who won?"

Seriously? Vivian eyed him. "You did." She pointed looked at the mat, where an EMT was checking on the barely conscious Andrew.

"Oh..." Christian looked dazed. "But I'm bleeding."

"Yeah, you stopped a fist with your face, idiot." She tugged him to the center. "Come on."

The ref eyed them both. "You okay, kid?" They nodded and the ref grabbed the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winner, with a KO in the first minute of the first round, breaking a two decade drought for Fifteen, _CHRISTIAN FULLER_!"

The crowd was going nuts. Even TwentySeven was cheering. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up, champ," she told her friend, trying to keep him from noticing she was worried. Vivian had never seen him flip like that. He was awesome, but a little scary.

On the way to the locker room, Dov shouted he was proud of Christian, Holly flashed a thumbs up, Traci and Andy were howling their heads off, and in the way back, a platinum blonde lifted a beer. So Gail had made it after all.

"Where's Andrew?"

"The EMTs are checking him out. He's probably going to checked out for a concussion," admitted Vivian, sitting Christian down in a chair. "How's the nose feel?"

"Broken." He wrinkled his face and winced. "Get my gloves off first? Please?"

Vivian nodded and cut the tape, pulling off the gloves and the headgear before picking up the first aid kit and wiping his face. "It's not too bad. Want me to get a doc?"

The dark haired man eyed her. "You can set it, right?"

Technically, yes. "Yeah, but I'm not a doctor."

"It's a nose."

"Yeah, I didn't go into medicine for a reason, idiot," Vivian pointed out.

Thankfully they were spared further argument by the EMT who came in to check on Christian. After making sure he didn't have a concussion, the EMT set his nose, taped it, and put an icepack on Christian's face. "No drinking tonight, Rocky. Monday, maybe. If you get a headache, go to the ER. Do you live alone?"

"No," muttered Christian. Satisfied, the EMT left after telling them what kind of painkillers were okay.

"I forgot you had a roommate."

"I try to," he grumbled. Christian roomed with a guy from Three Division named Buddy. They had neighboring rooms in the Academy and Christian pointed out he really couldn't afford the place on his own. Sometimes it made Vivian feel weird for not having moved out yet.

She pulled her phone out and texted Buddy, asking him to please keep an eye on Christian that night. "You sure you don't want to crash at my place? You know my Moms won't care."

Christian shook his head. "That'd just be weird. I mean, it's the weekend."

"And I'd get yelled at if I didn't offer," she smiled. Her phone pinged and she glanced to see what Buddy said... Only it wasn't a text from Buddy. It was Olivia.

_Mom said I've missed the fight but Christian won. Tell him congratulations._

Christian eyed her. "Who's the text from?"

"Liv. She says congratulations." Before Christian said to tell her thanks, Viv texted that anyway.

"Man, what are you doing, Viv?" He shook his head. "She keeps making those eyes at you."

Vivian blinked at him. "That's been over for a while, C. Nothing happening. And clearly I have Mom's luck with the ladies."

"Yeah, but she got it right in the end."

That was true, Vivian had to allow. "There's a problem with it, Christian. See, every day I see those two, in love, and making it work. So I know what it looks like. And I know when that's not what I've got."

Christian frowned. "We're twenty four, Viv! We're idiots! We are young, hot, twenty something's, with awesome jobs, and maybe you should let your hair down a bit and have fun. You don't have to find 'the one' right away! Hell, we may never! But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy life!"

"How very deep," muttered Vivian, ignoring the return text. It was just going to be Liv again.

"You are too deep. Try being shallow." He stood up. "This is my plan. I'm a hero tonight, so I'm going to play my broken nose up and get some hot girl to want to take care of me, and I'll probably feel guilty or regret it in the morning, but I will have fun. You should try it."

Vivian watched Christian head to the shower and sighed. He made it sound easy. But casual and shallow were things she'd never mastered. She glanced at the phone and stifled a laugh. It was from Gail.

_Please find a ride home. Late._

That her mothers hadn't stayed was no shocker. Neither was it odd that they ditched her.

"Go get a drink, Peck," shouted Christian from the shower.

"Waiting for you to have pants on, Fuller!"

"For a lesbian, you're a total perv, Peck," noted Rich.

Vivian eyed him. "I didn't see you falling over, volunteering to help."

Her fellow rookie rolled his eyes. "I was chancing on a fine lady. A doctor."

Oh god. Vivian laughed. If she was right here, it was going to be hilarious. "A doctor? Dr. Stewart?"

His eyes widened. "What the hell? Are you psychic?"

"Yes," grinned Vivian. In her mind, she could envision the look of horror on his face later when he found out who Holly was, and who she was married to. "Look, Rich, if you let anything happen to C, and I mean anything, I will hang your testicles from your locker. You may or may not still be attached to them." Vivian patted his shoulder and walked out.

There were still fights going on, so Vivian collected a beer and found Lara and Jenny. "Hell how mad was the sarge?" Jenny actually sounded worried.

"Simmons? Not at all," admitted Vivian. "He had me call her up and ask her out for coffee. When she went to pay, she used another fake bill, our guy behind the counter checked. Cuffs on before my coffee went cold." With a sigh, Vivian added, "Yet another notch of awesome in the crap that is my love life."

Jenny frowned and said, faux seriously, "Your dates always end in arrests?"

The three women laughed. "Better than mine," joked Lara. "One was an alcoholic. One hit me, once."

There was a pause. Jenny asked, "What'd you do?"

"Broke his arm." Lara said it so matter-of-factly, it was impressive. "What about you, Jen?"

"Cheater, cheater... Shitty sex."

Vivian and Lara both lifted their beers. "Word," they said as one.

"Come on," laughed Lara. "How bad can bad lesbian sex be?" When Vivian grimaced, Lara looked horrified. "But you're both girls!"

It was both Jenny and Vivian who snorted. "That means _nothing_ ," Jenny noted. "You bi, Peck?"

"Nup," she shook her head. "Nothing wrong with it, just not for me."

"I hear you," nodded Jenny. They watched a little of the fight and then Jenny leaned around and eyed Vivian. "You know, I don't think we've ever actually talked."

"Peck doesn't talk much," Lara remarked, not unkindly.

Jenny nodded. "She says she's not interesting. Which can't be true. I mean, our sergeant is practically your uncle."

In all likelihood, Jenny hadn't meant for it to sound like a dig, or a pointed comment about her last name. But in a way Vivian had really expected it. Lara looked surprised. "Seriously?"

Vivian shrugged. "Yep." It wasn't a secret. She didn't go out of her way to hide it. But she didn't want (or get) anything special for being who she was, so there was no point to it.

"How uncle are we talking?" Lara narrowed her eyes curiously.

Hesitating, Vivian admitted, "I used to babysit Epstein's kid." Dov also taught her how to shoot a pistol long range, something he was better at than Gail. "He was roommates with my mom for years. They're friends."

"Well that sucks," Lara declared, surprising the hell out of her. "No wonder he's always on your case about shit."

"Seriously," agreed Jenny.

Vaguely Viv recalled Gail telling her how Dov used to give her grief about being a Peck and all the nepotism. Maybe that was why he was so hard on her about stuff. "It is what it is." Her phone beeped and Vivian glanced at her watch. Liv was asking if the fights were still going on. Tapping the 'yes' reply button, she added, "I knew what I was getting into."

Jenny looked amused. "That's what I keep telling myself."

The phone pinged again. As Vivian read the message from Liv saying she was coming by, Lara elbowed her. "Who's this you keep smiling at."

Vivian looked across the room. "Inspector Williams' youngest." She tapped her phone open, telling Liv to turn around.

"Oh! The one you went to school with," remembered Lara, smiling. "Invite her over."

Bounding around the crowd, Liv smiled broadly as she dropped onto the bench beside Vivian. "Hey, you! Introduce me."

Pointing at everyone in turn, Vivian introduced. "Lara Volk, Olivia Best, Jenny Aronson."

Liv rolled her eyes. "Before you ask, yes, she's _always_ been like this. Known her since first grade."

"Hang on," laughed Lara. "Peck has friends?"

"Shut up." Vivian grumbled. "There's Matty."

Smirking, Jenny asked, "Two people? Wait, she's Christian's friend!"

"Technically, C and me are inherited friends. Our parents all worked together." Liv paused when she caught Vivian's eyes and slight head-shake. "Complicated is the watchword of Fifteen. But come on, I missed the fight. Someone tell me?"

Thank god Liv was smart. She understood without Vivian having to explain just then that they were keeping things on the down low. Christian didn't want everyone to see him as the sad son of a kidnapper, or the non-son of a dead man beloved by the division. Vivian didn't want to have more Peck accolades slapped at her without earning them.

They were not their parents' generation.

Christian, broken nose and all, came out to watch the last few fights, happily hugging Liv as he joined them. Medical student Liv made him show her the damage and pronounced it survivable. That led to her explaining how she was studying cancer treatments and cures, and would be moving to San Diego after the summer. Everyone was interested in it, except Vivian who already knew the story.

As the fights ended, Liv went back to where her mother and the white shirts were sitting and Vivian went to sit on the back stairs, finishing up her last beer. She could take public transportation home, or possibly catch a ride, but she wasn't quite sure if her parents were asleep yet. Probably not.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and, a moment later, Liv sat down beside her. "Mom said this is where Pecks brood after Fite Nite."

"I'm not brooding, I'm stalling."

Olivia blinked and then laughed. "You came with your moms?"

"Nah, John dropped me off after work. I come to the station with Mom every day, though."

"That makes a certain amount of sense," agreed Liv. "So. How's it really going?"

Vivian shrugged. "Good? I think. It's hard to tell from the inside." She rolled the beer bottle between her palms. "I like it."

Bumping shoulders, Liv smiled. "That's good. Holly was worried about that."

"She shouldn't be. I knew I wanted this."

"Yeah, but parents." They shared a smile. "So Dad said you were bait?"

With a laugh, Vivian explained the case, and how she'd ended up being hit on by one of the counterfeiters. "Which is really her dumb luck," Viv noted. "Of all the hot girls at the beach, she gives her digits to the undercover cop."

The look on Liv's face was torn between pleased and annoyed. "Hey, but look at you, getting out in the dating pool again."

"Dating criminals, woo," joked Vivian. "Everyone knows, by the way."

Liv looked panicked. "About ..." She pointed between them.

"Oh, no. No, just about me." Vivian finished the last of her beer. "Well. They know I'm gay. They don't know who my Moms are."

Her friend laughed. "You are such a shit. Why don't you tell them?"

"First off, Rich was hitting on Holly."

"Rich the snooty one who looks like a magazine model? Can I be here when Aunt Gail scares him shitless?"

Vivian smiled. "Mom's such an ass," she agreed.

Draining her red SOLO cup, Olivia smiled. "And second?"

"Second is... I don't want them to see me as that Peck all the time."

"Yeah, you knew you were getting into that," admonished Olivia.

With a shrug, Vivian leaned back on the steps. "Doesn't mean I need to encourage it. That's all."

Olivia made a noise of agreement and leaned against the wall. It was nice to just sit and hang out with her friend for a while. That had been one of her favorite things with Liv. The sitting in quiet. The fact that they didn't need to worry about where things were going for a change.

"Do you need a ride home?"

"Eventually." Vivian sighed and checked her watch.

The doctor-to-be laughed softly. "The horndogs never stop, do they?"

Vivian smiled. "Nope, and I hope they never do." It didn't matter how annoyed she was. Her parents were always there when she needed them. They stopped everything for her, many times. Giving them privacy and a chance to reconnect that way was the simplest, easiest thing she could do to say thank you.

"You want to crash at my place? You can use Sophie's room. And my folks love you."

"Your Mom loves me more than you," teased Vivian.

Liv shoved her shoulder. "It's not funny," she laughed. "She totally does."

Grinning, Viv drawled in her best Gail, "Well. I am totally awesome."

Her friend smiled and looked up at the sky. "You won't sleep over." It wasn't a question. "And you won't tell me why." Vivian looked at her feet and didn't reply. What could she possibly say? With a loud sigh, Liv got up and started down the stairs. She paused at the foot. "You coming? If you're going to sit outside a building all night, may as well be your own house."

The ride to her house was quiet. "This seems backwards. Wasn't I always driving you home?"

"Quid pro quo, Clarice," rasped Liv, and they laughed. "Where is the crapmobile anyway?"

"In the garage. Still runs."

Liv shook her head. "That's crazy. I don't blame you for riding to work with Aunt Gail."

"Hey, it's mine. I bought it with my own money, thank you," pointed out Vivian.

"It's a good car," agreed Liv. "It just runs like shit. Took us an extra two hours to get up to the cabin."

"You don't speed in the crapmobile." When he'd sold her the car, Steve made her promise that. Vivian checked her watch again.

Liv gave her a side eye. "What are you checking for? Texts from a hot girl?"

It was a little embarrassing. "You know how Mom's a great big nerd, right?" Liv snorted at her. "Right so, she has this new thing that tracks her sleep and wakes her up gently at the right point in her sleep cycle. But she has to turn it on before she goes to sleep."

Her friend thought about that for a moment. "You lost me."

"It hooks into the family health kit app on our phones. Soooo."

Liv laughed. "Oh my god, you're waiting for an alert to tell you Holly went to sleep?"

"Only way I can be sure they went to bed," sighed Vivian, amused. "I used to wait till the bathroom light went off."

"Do I want to know why it was on?"

"I never asked," Viv smiled. Liv pulled up to the curb in front of the Peck/Stewart house. "Thank you. For the ride." There was a weird tension in the car and Vivian wasn't sure if she liked it. Taking off her seatbelt, her watch pinged. Both she and Liv looked up at the second floor, where a light went off.

Liv cracked up. "Oh that is hilarious."

The timing really was perfect. "What can I say? I know my moms well." She was surprised to see Liv chewing her lip. That was classic nervous Olivia, last seen when giving a Model UN talk about genocide. Unlike Vivian, who always felt nervous and awkward around people when forced to make small talk, Olivia was the extrovert.

As Vivian reached for the door handle, Liv asked, "Can I... Can I come in and talk?"

Okay. That was weird. "Sure, but Gail might come downstairs." Gail often made midnight snack runs on a normal night.

They ended up sitting out on the swing set. Everyone had told Gail that Vivian was too old for it, at ten, but the wooden swing set with a slide was her favorite place to hang out. Even in winter, she'd sit on the top of the slide as if it were a clubhouse. It was too small for her and Liv to sit in there now, being adults, so they sat on the swings.

She didn't push Liv, literally or metaphorically. They sat in their own swing, rocking back and forth absently. Waiting was easy. Viv had learned that from Gail. The art of being patient and relaxed made the other person uncomfortable and want to fill the void with something. Maybe that wasn't fair to do to her friend, but it made sense when she wasn't sure what was up.

Finally Olivia sighed. "I'm terrified," she whispered. And like that, her fears bubbled out and spilled over into a word-vomit Vivian hadn't heard since they were teens. Liv was moving to another country and she was going to work with some of the most brilliant people in the world. She wasn't anywhere near their ability. She couldn't possibly keep up with them. And here she was, moving far away from home to try and be something else. It was worse because Sophie had already gone off to Berkley and come back, so she was a success, and what if Olivia failed?

When it was clear Liv had run herself out of words, Viv dragged her feet to stop swinging. "You know... Failing at science isn't a big deal." Her friend startled. "Seriously. It's called experimental, dumb ass. You're supposed to make mistakes and try again."

"What if I kill someone?"

"As opposed to cancer killing them?"

Liv blinked and laughed softly. "Okay. There's that."

"Look, you're smart. You're good, but yeah, you're the rookie here. You're going to suck, you're going to mess up. It's a given. But it's what they expect."

"Says the Peck. Holly was first in her class."

"Holly had no social life outside of Slutty BitchTits and Rachel, is an actual genius with a disgustingly high IQ, and is a great big nerd." They both laughed. "Holly works her ass off for all this, you know that."

Shaking her head, Liv asked, "So that's your advice? Work hard?"

"Success is 90% luck and 10% timing. You have timing on your side here, Liv. Go grab it."

They sat silently for a moment. "You told me that when I went to Montréal."

"It was the right thing to do," Viv said firmly. "So's San Diego. Weather'll be better."

Liv smiled softly. "How come you know what to say?"

"It's all that training to talk people off rooftops," she replied blithely. Fear was something Vivian understood, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. She knew what it was like to be scared and uncomfortable. The nearly faded memories of foster homes before this one did still linger, but she was pretty sure that wasn't related.

The inside of Vivian's had was a strange place. Things didn't unpack themselves neatly. But all that bottled up mess made it easier to understand people, even if she didn't like them very much.

Olivia reached over and touched Vivian's hand. "I'm serious. Thank you."

The nagging voice of Holly told her how to answer. Vivian smiled, "You're welcome."

And then Liv kissed her.

It wasn't the peck of lips to the cheek like friends did (well, friends of Holly's). This was the inappropriate and unexpected press of lips to her own. This was confusing. This was Liv kissing her like before they broke up. Vivian froze as Liv's fingers touched her face.

She'd forgotten how nice and safe kissing Liv was. It was comfortable. Which was probably part of why they hadn't worked out. Vivian took hold of Liv's upper arms, which Liv took as a sign to lean in more. No. This was a bad idea. "Liv," she whispered, carefully pushing her oldest friend back. "What's going on?"

Liv's face was not what Vivian had expected. It was horror and shock and regret. "Oh god... I don't know... Why did I... I have to go."

And Liv bolted, leaving Vivian more confused than she'd been before.

* * *

Gail smiled as Holly wrapped her arms around her waist. "Hello, Doctor," she purred, leaning back against her wife.

"Hello, Inspector." Holly kissed her neck. "Doing the dishes has never looked sexier."

"I think that every time you wash up." Gail shut the water off and turned around to drape her arms around Holly's neck. "You're home early." Both her wife and daughter had gone off to play softball with firemen that morning. Or against. Whatever.

"Game rained out." They kissed softly and Gail smiled.

"Where's junior?" Leaning in, Gail kissed the place on Holly's jaw that she knew gave the brunette shivers. If the kid was going to be out...

Holly sighed and tilted her head to the side, giving Gail a little more access. "Junior... Is not here." She groaned when Gail stopped. "Seriously?"

Pressing her cheek to Holly's, Gail whispered, "I don't want to get cockblocked when you're riiiiiiiight there." The again was unspoken.

Her wife made a frustrated noise. "She went to check on Christian and said she'd be home by dinner. Happy? Can we go be naked now?"

Gail let go and grabbed Holly's hands. "Yes. Provided you're alright with me getting up to check on the roast in..." She checked her watch. "78 minutes."

Looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, Holly drawled, "That might be cutting it a little fine. What kind of roast?"

"The red wine pot roast from Julia Child's book."

Her wife sighed dramatically. "We'll have to risk it."

Ninety-six minutes later, Gail slipped back into the bed and wrapped an arm around Holly, snuggling close. "Needs another hour or so," she murmured into Holly's ear.

Holly hummed that she'd heard, but didn't move or speak. She was smiling, and that was enough for now. Gail settled in and closed her eyes when Holly finally said something. "What were you doing?"

"Braising the beef." There was a brief moment before they both giggled. "Come on, this was still way better than baseball, right?"

"Softball," corrected Holly, stretching and turning to face Gail. "Much better."

They kissed again and Holly reached for her hip as Gail's phone beeped. "Damn it," grumbled Gail, rolling over to grab her phone. The message was from Vivian, texting to let her know she'd be home in time to watch the game. "What game are you and the monkey watching?"

A hand slid across her bare back. "Soccer. Women's World Cup is soon." Soft lips pressed against her shoulder and then the back of her neck. Fingers played with the hairs at the base of Gail's neck. "Game's not for a couple hours," Holly noted, molding herself along Gail's back.

That felt so good. Gail shivered. "I love it when you play with my hair," she noted.

"Convenient," agreed Holly. "I love playing with it." She kissed the wisps of hair along Gail's neck, a hand sliding back to her hip.

In the two decades they'd been together, Gail had grown her hair out to her shoulders once. There had also been a brief time where Holly had chopped hers to her chin, though that was caused by her hair being set on fire by an errant firework. That had been a terrifying day.

This was not a terrifying day. This was a day when Holly's hands touched Gail. This was a good day, where age was a non-issue. The division had broken its loosing streak the night before, they'd had a great Fite Nite for a change. Normally Gail tried to work Fite Nite, so as not to repeat the mistakes of the past. This year, she'd tried to make it, ended up catching Christian's fight, and then ...

Well. They were married and they had sex. A lot. There was nothing wrong with that.

Afterwards, Holly was far too awake and bounced into the shower, singing off key. Gail lay on her stomach, smiling. Keeping the romance going after all this time was work, but it was well worth it. They were constantly carving out time just for each other, taking advantage of surprise afternoons like this, planning vacations that were just them.

As the shower turned off, Gail spoke up. "Hey, Holly? We should go see your folks for Christmas."

Her wife didn't reply right away. "They'll be out here next year for our anniversary," Holly finally noted.

"S'why we should go there. Don't make Brian fly too much."

The talented fingers of the doctor fluffed her hair. "You are very thoughtful," she told Gail fondly. "Go take a shower."

Gail hunkered down and hugged her pillow. "How much time do I have?"

"Your watch says 18 minutes."

Crap. Gail grumbled and got out of bed. "Fine, but you start the laundry."

They were downstairs and dressed by the time Vivian showed up, sweaty and with grease on her face. "My car sucks," she informed her parents and sat down on the couch.

"Who was it giving me shit about making the couch all icky and gross?" Gail shook her head and grabbed a coconut water out of the fridge for her daughter. "What broke?"

"Radiator hose. I love you, Mom." Vivian downed half the drink. "Is that your world famous pot roast?"

Gail looked at Holly. "I am a celebrated and decorated detective. I have more accolades and awards than anyone else my age. I was the youngest detective inspector in the history of OC. And what am I famous for? Fucking cooking."

With a smile, Holly pulled Gail close to kiss her. "You're an excellent cook." And then she whispered, "And the fucking."

"Not the point." But Gail let herself be distracted by Holly's kisses until the timer on her watch went off.

Holly slapped Gail's butt as she went into the kitchen. "Viv, help me with the table?"

"Can we eat on the couch?" Vivian almost whinged. "I'm tired."

There was something about Vivian's tone that caught Gail's attention. She looked over at Vivian and saw the slumped shoulders. "Couch is fine," she agreed. "Holly, grab the deep plates?" Gail started to slice the meat on the cutting board.

They quietly served up the plates, Gail making two trips while Holly broke out the red wine. "Vino?"

"Por moi, merci," said Gail as she took her favorite spot in her chair. The sport-twins were just going to mess with their spreadsheets. "Et vous, mon singe?"

Vivian waved a hand, "Sure."

The food was a hit, distracting Holly enough that she had to rewind the game multiple times. Weirdly, Vivian didn't make a comment about it. Normally she'd tease the hell out of Holly for being distracted. Instead, she just watched the game and ate, barely seeming to notice what she was eating.

"Oh, honey I forgot to tell you, that dude rookie hit on me." Holly propped her feet up on the table and sipped her wine. "Rick?"

Finally Vivian spoke up. "Rich. Hanford." She sunk further into the couch.

Mopey Vivian. Check. Holly eyed Gail curiously. She'd noticed too. "Right. Two-times. That's the one I knew would," smiled Gail, stretching her legs out so her feet could bump Holly's. "Though Jenny strikes me as someone into a little lady loving."

The sulky rookie muttered, "She's bi, not crazy."

Holly shook her head. "Viv, are you okay?"

"Don't wanna talk about it," Vivian replied, hunching down.

When Holly opened her mouth, Gail cleared her throat. "Desert?" She got up and went to the kitchen. "It's fresh fruit, Holly, don't start." Both women replied they'd like it and Gail brought the bowls over.

"Your fingers are in my bowl," chastised Holly, taking one.

"We've swapped spit, Stewart. Give up." Gail put a bowl in Vivian's lap and sat on her other side. "Who are we rooting for?"

Vivian picked at the fruit. "The ones in blue." She didn't seem all that interested in the sports.

On the other side of their kid, Holly looked a little concerned. Still, when she finished her desert, the doctor kissed Vivian's forehead and told them not to stay up too late. Gail was left alone with her kid. Since Vivian was being uncommunicative, Gail turned on a reality TV show about logging.

Waiting out people was something Gail was good at. She'd found it tricky at first, fallen into it by accident, and then made it her own. She knew where to fill in the conversation, where to leave it empty, and where to let the wanting desperation to unburden one's self take over.

In many ways it was unfair to do that to her family. But seeing as they all knew she could, they knew what they were getting into with these conversations.

"I think I did a stupid thing," muttered Vivian. "Only I'm not sure what part was dumb."

"Okay," mused Gail. That was interesting.

Looking up at Gail, Viv asked, "When you did dumb things when you were my age, who did you talk to?"

"Steve. Sometimes. Mostly I kept it to myself."

Her daughter frowned. "It's complicated."

"You don't have to tell anyone," noted Gail.

"Except my head shrink."

Gail ruffled Vivian's hair. "You know you don't have to go see one anymore, right?"

Her daughter eyed her. "You and Mom do."

"Unlike you," noted Gail, "Holly and I have medical reasons for that." Gail had literal brain damage, and wasn't that a hoot to find out. It did make her feel better for not being able to shake the stupid nightmares, which in turn made her less likely to stress out over it, which had more that once ended with her unloading on people. As for Holly, it was 'simple' depression, which was anything but.

According to all the doctors though, there was nothing wrong with Vivian. Still. She went to her therapist every month. Every once in a while they brought it up, reminding her she didn't have to keep going. And every time, Vivian smiled and nodded and said she wanted to.

Right now, she sunk impossibly low in a slouch that was beyond even teenaged Gail's abilities. "It's easier to talk to someone not ... Connected." When she looked up at Gail, her eyes with the same guarded hope that had been common to the seven year old. Someone who wanted to believe in people, but who knew better already.

Gail sighed. "Yeah. I can see that. That's why I keep Chloe around."

Vivian snorted a laugh and smiled. "I had wondered."

They watched the end of the logging show, saying nothing more. Sometimes it was also okay not to talk about things. Sometimes it was okay to just be.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This case was a stand alone, unrelated to the rest of what went on. Eventually Vivian will have to explain what the hell happened with Liv. Provided she can ever figure it out. I have to throw a house on her first.
> 
> That's metaphorical.
> 
> Next chapter goes up in THREE weeks, since someone idiot is getting married and apparently I have to go. Drop a review if you're so inclined. They make every author feel better.


	4. 01.04 Hot and Bothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dead body at a junkyard with their skull bashed in that defies resolution. Meanwhile Vivian needs a new car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipping ahead some, we're into August and it's hot and Vivian has to wear a cotton poly blend.

Sniffing her uniform pants in the locker room, Vivian sighed.

"That's creepy, Peck," Jenny remarked.

"I've washed it every day this week. They still smell. I think the sweat is ground in." She sighed again and pulled them on.

Jenny laughed. "That's what you get for chasing that guy."

At the start of the week, Vivian had chased down a pick pocket. The hustle had been much applauded the next day at parade, but Vivian swore her uniforms still reeked of sweat. Hadn't Gail threatened death once on the inventor of the uniforms? They did suck. "You should be glad I don't play your game, Aronson," joked Vivian.

Lara elbowed her. "Are you wearing spandex under your pants, Peck?"

Vivian looked down. "The pants chafe."

The other two women shared a look. "I can't tell if you're a genius or insane," said Lara at length.

"Well. I'm a Peck. In general, the answer is both." She pulled her shirt on and buttoned it up before tucking it in.

As she zipped her fly, McNally came in, still in her civvies. "Peck, Dov wants to see you in his office."

"Now?" She blinked and grabbed her gear belt.

"Now. Leave the belt."

That didn't sound good. Vivian hung her belt up and closed her locker, clipping her tie on as she hustled to Dov's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Her sergeant was typing on his laptop furiously. "Close the door."

And that sounded worse. "Sir?"

"I need a favor." He closed the laptop and looked up at her. "Can you take a squad to ThirtyFour and pick up Chris?"

Chris. His son? She blinked. "Chris who I used to babysit? He's at ThirtyFour?" Division ThirtyFour was the third leg in the triad of Divisions where Gail oversaw Organized Crimes. Fifteen was smack in the middle, the numerical position of which had always confounded Holly. The only person Vivian really knew from ThirtyFour was Det. Anderson, who was annoying but amusing.

"He's in lockup. They agreed to sign him to anyone from Fifteen. Pick him up, bring him here, and then look the other way when I kill him."

Well. That was bad and not her fault. "Are you asking me as Uncle Dov or my boss?"

That surprised Dov. "Why?"

"Because one's an abuse of power and one's going to make my moms laugh at dinner."

Dov scowled. "This feels like a lose-lose situation for me."

"Generally speaking, that's how it goes with Pecks." She smiled and fixed her tie. "What did Chris do?"

"Possession. He says its not his."

Given how Chris nearly shat himself the last time he got caught with drugs, Vivian would have no problem believing that. "It's probably not, you know."

Dov shook his head. "I don't know. And he won't tell me." He looked at Vivian carefully. "I'm hoping the weirdo he looks up to might wheedle that out of him."

In surprise, Vivian pointed at herself. "Chris looks up to me?"

"He has a crush on you," grinned Dov.

"Ew. Still gay. Also he's still jail bait, _and_ I used to babysit him, so double and triple ew." She shuddered.

He smiled at her. "Vivian, weird daughter of my best friend, and please don't tell Gail I said that. I need a favor from you as your beloved Uncle Dov who let you practice shooting. Please pick my son up and find out what the hell he was doing with a dime bag of weed?"

Vivian sighed. She knew what her moms would do. Gail would bitch and moan and then bend over backwards to help a friend. Holly wouldn't hesitate and would give Gail a look for even the false protests. She knew why Dov overreacted about weed, too. His brother Adam had died of an overdose long before Vivian was born. On top of that, Chris Diaz had been in NA the whole time she'd known him. There was only thing to say. "What cruiser?"

"1503."

"I will hold this over you one day, Uncle Dov."

Dov looked relieved. "Thank you. Don't worry about your assignment today. When you get back, we'll sort it out."

As long as she wasn't stuck on foot patrol on the hottest day of the year, it would be okay. "Fine, but you will owe me."

"You are your mother's daughter."

"Thank you," she laughed and went back to the lockers to grab her gear and collect her boss's kid.

Frankly it was better, and less aggravatingly hot, than being outside. It gave her time to think about the shit with Liv at least. After a week of phone tag, she'd finally gotten an hour with Matty to talk about the whole thing. While he lived miles and miles away in New York, they still talked and texted all the time. They were as close as they'd been since he'd been beaten up in school, distance or not. It constantly confounded Gail, who watched them pick up the middle of conversations after weeks of not talking.

Usually Matty was on Vivian's side with stupid things like kissing girls. And as soon as she told him she hadn't kissed back, he was supportive of her. But his advice was to keep her lips the hell away from Liv until she wanted to talk. It was good advice, and she stuck by it, made easier since Olivia was avoiding her.

Girls were so confusing. At least she was just going to pick up a teenager who had a mild crush on her. Boys like Chris were super easy. Smile at them and they'd do almost anything. Now all she had to do was figure out what the kid had done, and either tell Dov or steer Chris safe. Probably steering. Dov had a habit of overreacting about drugs, which was understandable and justifiable, but it always made Chris stubborn and recalcitrant.

Oh. Family.

* * *

The smell of her work rarely bothered her. It wasn't that she'd gone nose blind either. Holly just didn't mind the smell of death, decomposition, or anything of those ilk. Smells were smells. Anyone who spent any time in the morgue was used to that and was prepared for it.

Of course, the rookies needed warnings. Well. The rookie.

After giving the the usual lecture on how to deal with the lab, she picked up a jar of lemon scented Vaseline. "If the smell gets to be too bad swipe this under your nose."

Officer Volk, whom Vivian had described as being observant and clever, looked worried. "It can smell worse?"

McNally laughed. "Oh you have no idea. We had a liquefied body once, splashed all over Peck and Price."

Smiling fondly, Holly put the jar down by them. "How do you always remember those things?"

"We're cops," noted McNally, swiping some Vaseline on her upper lip. "Trust me here, Volk. If Dr. Stewart breaks out the jar, you want it."

Quickly Volk took a finger full and swiped her lip. "Peck?"

"Not your Peck," explained the older cop. "We have a lot of them."

As she pulled on her gloves, Holly asked, "How's that donut fine going?"

"Wait that's a real thing?" Volk startled. "Peck- Vivian said you had to have at least one Peck in every division."

Holly laughed. Years ago, back before they'd been parents, Gail had made the joke about the donut fine. Since then all the Pecks had found it so hilarious, they'd enforced it. "Really? You let her get away with that, Andy?"

"It's not like we actually have a lot of control of her."

Well. That was to be expected. "How's she really doing?"

"Except the part where Dov's always on her case to know everything, pretty good. She's off running some mystery errand for him this morning."

That seemed unfair. Shaking her head, Holly picked up a pair of tweezers. "I'm sorry... How do you know ... You're talking about Vivian Peck?" Volk looked absolutely lost.

Holly glanced up. "Oh. She's my daughter. Apparently when you're a Peck, you end up a cop, even if your mother's the chief medical examiner." The expression on Volk's face was close to a shocked fish. She was startled and confused even more than she had been before. Those Pecks and their games. Gail and Vivian were still enjoying keeping it a secret, and far be it from Holly to spoil their fun. "I didn't change my name when I got married."

Nodding as if she was starting to understand, Volk kept her mouth closed tightly. This was a smart one. "Sorry," chuckled McNally. "I've know the doc for ... Twenty years now? She came to my wedding."

"And we threw the divorce party," noted Holly. Though mostly because they had the biggest backyard. "So. Where did you find this guy?"

At McNally's jostle, Volk pulled her notepad out. "Junkyard. He was... The owner ... Um. What parts are important?"

"Don't care about motive. Set the scene for me," Holly smiled. She did care about motive in the long run. Just not right now.

Volk did a good job not puking as they went over the remains, explaining what happened. A head, torso, one arm and one leg. The body had been chewed up by a car crusher. Apparently he'd not quiet been dead, but the man working the yard had realized someone was in the car too late. Holly explained how you could tell from the injuries and the motor oil what had happened and when and where.

And she could tell that the man was already dead, so no they had not ground up a living person. "Wait, the owner said he heard the guy." Volk scowled.

"People hear things all the time," McNally noted. "It could have been metal, and as soon as he saw blood, his brain decided it was a person. How do you know he was dead before he was crushed, Doc?"

"The blood," smiled Holly. "Exsanguination post mortem rarely occurs when the body is no longer pumping blood out. It can coagulate, though not particularly quickly on hot days like we've had this month. The way it's collected in his body, such as it is, tells me he's been dead a couple days."

Of course, Andy knew that. She was asking on Volk's behalf like a good TO. "Can you tell how he died?"

"Curiously yes. Someone crushed in his skull." She tilted the head and showed them the back. "Rather squishy."

There was a thud and Holly stood to look over the table. "One vomit, one passed out. Viv's screwing our score. We'll never get a clean sweep," sighed Andy. "I can't believe she snuck in."

Holly smiled and sat back on her stool. "Ah, the good old days when I though my child might have a bright career in the sciences."

"She got that degree in engineering." Andy went and got a damp towel and patted Volk's face with it. "Do you still keep smelling salts down here?"

When Holly told the story to Gail at lunch, her wife laughed. "Damn, I had Volk pegged as strong one. How'd Christian do?" They were enjoying a nice meal on the couch in Holly's office, overlooking the steaming city.

Taking a bite of salad, Holly waggled a hand. "Wanda said he threw up after. Guys try so hard to not puke in front of pretty girls."

"Wanda's still a lesbian cougar hunter," chuckled Gail. "It's weird how many people we know are lesbians."

"Wanda's an equal opportunity cougar hunter," smiled Holly. "She went after Swarek once."

"Ew... And now I'm not hungry."

"Oh so I can have your avocados?" Holly reached over with her fork and Gail scowled, moving her bowl away. Laughing, Holly reached over again and stole a kiss and an avocado slice.

Gail sighed dramatically. "You're lucky I love you, Dr. Stewart." She smiled brightly when Holly transferred an avocado from her bowl to Gail's. "Thank you, baby."

They leaned against each other, comfortable. "What errand for Dov was our kid running?" When Gail didn't answer right away, Holly added, "Andy leaked."

"Damn her, my weak link," muttered Gail. "Little Chris got caught with weed. Dov... Well you know why." She did. She had heard the story from Dov when explaining why Chris' middle name was Adam. "He asked Viv to pick him up and try to get the story out of him."

Holly snorted. "Well that's stupid." Like Steve, Vivian hoarded her secrets well and never shared them. "She won't tell him anything."

Slipping her arm around Holly's waist, Gail hummed. "I suspect that's why he asked her. Part of him doesn't want to know." Holly knew that was likely. It was one of the many agreements and deals the parents did for each other. Friends helped with each other's kids. "Speaking of, Olivia's dodging my calls. Think our kid pissed her off?"

"Ever think she's just ditching you, oh humble one? The awkwardness of talking to her ex-girlfriend's mom who is rather intense..." Holly smiled and kissed Gail's cheek. "How long do you have?"

Gail checked her watch. "Not much. Judge Wu is like a clock. He said he'd have a decision by 1pm."

Taking Gail's wrist, Holly eyed the time. "No time, honey. There's construction on Dunn." She patted Gail's leg. "Skedaddle, wife. I'll see you tonight?"

Her wife got up and leaned in for a real kiss. "If I get out early enough, I'll make dinner."

Holly smiled. "Wednesday." Predictably, Gail grimaced. "Batting cages and Vietnamese food."

"I do find your buns lovely," sang Gail as she left Holly's office. She also left the dishes for Holly to clean up. That was her wife alright, sighed Holly.

* * *

Maybe she should have told Dov what Chris had said. That was Vivian's only explanation for why he'd stuck her with Duncan Moore _and_ tasked them with investigating junkyards. Which meant on foot, outside, in August. And it smelled. Asshat.

But. She'd promised Chris she wouldn't tell his parents the story, politely asked the Pecks at ThirtyFour not to press charges, and dragged him back to Fifteen. Vivian would have to sort that out later. Because just dealing with the avoidance of Olivia wasn't enough. Sometimes life loved dumping shit on you. It had been the right thing to do, too, what Chris had done. They weren't his drugs, and for fuck's sake it was _weed_. He did give her the names so Vivian could later stop by the school and scare the shit out of the kids.

Duncan fell loudly, jarring her out of her thoughts. "Damn this place is filled with junk." He had been clambering over the cars, screwing around and basically doing the things that made Gail call him Gerald. Still.

"Its a junkyard, Duncan," she muttered, looking around and tugging at her collar. They had to look for bodies since Lara and Andy had found a dumper in a car being crushed that morning, not five minutes into patrol. That meant as soon as she rolled back to Fifteen, Vivian was stuck with Moore and a junkyard while Lara got a rush job on an autopsy because the car happened to be one in a car accident of a semi-famous actor the year before. Yay.

"That's Moore to you," the older officer grumbled.

Smiling, Vivian snapped off a salute. "Yes sir, Officer Moore, sir." She paused. "You've got something on your pants."

Swearing as he brushed his pants off, Duncan shook his leg. "Do you have something to wipe it off with?" He stared at his hands, coated in something nasty. And smelly, even from this distance. "This shit is gross."

"Nasty, no. Maybe the owner does." She wrinkled her nose. It was really smelly. That smelled like ... That smelled like Holly after a nasty case, before she got the lemon scented soap out. The smell-memory caused her to stop in her tracks. "What were you climbing on?"

"That 'cuda," waved Duncan.

A green Barracuda. Why did they always paint them green? She walked over to the Plymouth and spotted a boot print on the bumper. "That's not right," she muttered. "Hey, Dun- Moore. You wear normal shoes, right?"

"What?" He looked confused.

"Standard issue patrol shoes," she snapped, impatiently.

Duncan startled. "You sound like your mom."

" _Duncan_ ," growled Vivian.

"What? Yes, standard issue shoes. What does that have to do with this crap on my leg."

"It's organic, Duncan," she told him and lifted her foot to double check. That was not the same print. "It's evidence, too. Don't brush it off." Pulling out her phone, she took a photo and then dug a glove out of her thigh pocket. "I'm so going to regret this," she muttered and opened the door to the half smashed 'cuda.

The smell of rotting corpse. In August. Jesus. For the first time since putting on the uniform, Vivian's stomach roiled. That was disgusting.

"Holy crap," muttered Duncan, coming up behind her. "Dispatch, 4271 this is officer Moore. We got a 10-45. Same type as this morning."

Dispatch crackled on both the radios. "4271, dispatch. Can you confirm, the MO?"

Duncan looked at Vivian. "Check his head?"

She nodded and pulled the glove on, reaching in. Instinct had her checking the pulse first. Then she touched the back of his head. Ew. Ew. Ew. "Yeah. Head bashed in," Vivian said quietly and moved away from the car.

They were still there when the forensics team showed up. Headed by none other than her mother. "Officers," greeted Holly, eying Vivian carefully.

"Doc," greeted Duncan, looking miserable. Vivian could understand that. She was just hot and annoyed. "Where do ya want my pants?"

Holly blinked. "Excuse me? Duncan, why do I want your pants?"

"Oh. Sorry. They're evidence." He pulled at the side of his pants. "Got ... What'd you call it, Peck?"

"Organic." Vivian held up an evidence bag with a rubber glove in it. "There's a footprint on the bumper and prints on the handle. I took photos and I used the edge of the handle when I opened the door."

Taking the bag, Holly smiled. "Same head injury?"

At that, Vivian shrugged. "It matches the description. Back of the head smashed."

Snapping her gloves on, Holly sighed. "That's all we have." Over the years, Holly had worked dozens of cases with the back of the head bashed in. All took place near cars, all unsolved. Two decades and no one had made sense of the case. Sometimes her moms would talk about it, how it was frustrating.

Holly opened the door and tilted her head. The head was on the far side of the car. Vivian could reach it easily. But Holly glanced back at Vivian, who was standing with her hands in her pockets, trying to exude the casual cop vibe of her blonder mother. There was something weird about Holly's expression as her eyes traversed Vivian from sole to top of her head.

Sometimes Vivian forgot that she was just over two inches taller than Holly's 5'9", a hair under being actually six feet. Those two inches of reach made a big difference. Her mother couldn't reach the back of the guy's head, while she could.

"Something wrong, boss?" Holly's assistant sounded worried.

"Can we get to the other side? I can't reach in without disturbing evidence."

The assistant looked surprised. "But the cop..." He looked at Vivian and blinked. "Oh. Huh. Can we?"

"I didn't check," admitted Vivian. "I cleared the scene, but I wasn't looking for easy access." She had done her best to make sure everything was safe. The last thing Vivian wanted was for Gail to yell at _her_ about putting Holly in danger.

Holly shrugged. "We're going to have to bring the car anyway. Okay, let's get some evidence collected. Duncan, take your pants off and bag 'em. We've got some scrubs. Shoes too. Viv-" And Holly paused. "Vivian, do you have anything on you?"

"No, ma'am," replied Vivian with a smile. Her mother had been deliberating on what to call her. "He has a tuque."

"In August?" Holly looked amused and glanced at Duncan, who was in short sleeves. So was Vivian for that matter. Only Gail made a point to never wear short sleeves in uniform, but she also had two colors: vampire and lobster.

Vivian nodded. "Kinda weird, right? He's warm, but that doesn't mean anything."

Her mother laughed. "Hardly." Holly directed her minions around while Vivian radioed in the update. It was novel to watch her mother work. She'd seen Gail at work a few times, but Holly in the field was new and enlightening.

Field work of this sort was cool and interesting. Holly zoned out and was completely invested in the body, checking lividity and stiffness. She took samples and recorded information into her phone. The few times Vivian had been allowed to watch Holly work, it had been lab work. Watching the various machines scan things and the way her mother read them and understood them so quickly was amazing. It was even more impressive to see it in person. Holly was scientific brilliance distilled in human form.

Taking her own phone out, Vivian took a photo of Holly and sent it to Gail.

The forensic tech, LaFaire, came up to her. "Hey, little Peck. Money, drugs, and now a DB? Fun times!"

"You know me, LaFaire. Nothing but fun." She gripped her belt and shifted her weight, trying to project an aura of calmness and reliability. "How long do you think he's been dead? I mean, he smells."

"He was closed up in a car," laughed LaFaire. "Besides, that's the Doc's area of expertise. I'm collection." The man stepped up to the car. "Hey, Dr. Stewart. Ready for me?"

Holly backed out. "Start with under the car, please." Stiffly, Holly stretched and watched as LaFaire started to collect evidence from under the car.

It wasn't until nearly sunset that Vivian made it back to the station. Duncan had gone back with Rich, leaving Vivian with Kellerman, one of the myriad TOs who cropped up in the years Gail had been upstairs. He wasn't so bad, but he'd talk your ear off and was always drinking protein shakes.

Escaping Kellerman, Vivian pulled her phone out to check on her parents. The text from Gail said they were at the batting cages and Vivian should meet them there for a round and dinner.

"Right," she laughed. "It's Wednesday."

McNally poked her head around the lockers. "Wednesday night is batting cages? Still?"

"Still," smiled Vivian. "And Vietnamese food after, if we eat out." They were a model of consistency.

"I can drop you off there. It's on my way home."

"That'd be awesome, thank you," she exhaled. "I keep thinking it's cool to come to work with Mom and then I get stuck."

Laughing, McNally nodded her understanding. "She was always talking boys into driving her home."

Weird to think of Gail as dating men. She shook her head, trying not to think of Gail being romantic with Nick or anyone else besides Holly. It was just weird. "I guess they're simpler..."

"She was straight back then," smirked Andy, toweling her hair dry. "Going to grab a shower here?"

Vivian plucked at her uniform shirt. "No, not if I'm going to the cages," she decided. She was just going to get sweaty again. Giving her uniform a sniff test, Vivian winced. They needed another wash. Whomever came up with the cotton-poly blend needed to die. Preferably slowly and painfully while wearing said blend.

* * *

"These are not your leftovers," muttered Steve, sniffing the Tupperware.

"Are too," countered Gail. "My mini fridge, my food. Perks of the office, brother dearest."

"I mean this isn't your cooking." He closed the box and put it back. "If I'm raiding your fridge for lunch, I should get your cooking, little sister."

Gail smiled and scratched her chin. "Sorry, it was batting night."

Her brother sat down on the couch, smiling. "I can't believe Holly still gets you to do that."

"There are bennies to being married to a sporty lady."

Even though she was capable at sports, Gail encouraged Holly's corrections on her stance and swing. Mostly because it meant she had Holly's arms around her. And after the cages, they'd shower and Gail could massage Holly's back and shoulders, rubbing in lotion and listening to her wife complain about getting old.

Not that Gail would tell Holly that she enjoyed the batting cages, but she did sometimes. She liked the day of the week where her family got together to do something they all did enjoy. They didn't always make it out. While Gail never missed a week of shooting, not even when she'd broken her ribs or her hand, the batting cages had sometimes lost to cases or school or illness.

That week, however, they had all managed to get there. Vivian had made it not too late, catching a ride from Andy. She had a fun tale to tell about Gerald losing his pants, which Holly embellished as he'd been stuck with her as evidence for hours while Vivian got to supervise the extraction.

The case itself was annoying and likely to go on Holly's list of unsolved head bashings. Three or five times a year, it cropped up again. They'd never solved it. They never had any leads. Someone would be dead, in a hat no matter the weather, with their head bashed in, near a car.

It was quite maddening.

It also was not the case she and her brother were working on. She propped her feet on her desk and asked him, "What's the status on the Hill takeover?"

Steve grimaced. "Pretty much locked up. Since Chloe picked up that idiot Arana, we got more information on the situation. The botched deal at the apartment, the one those rooks were supposed to be watching, it was their last ploy."

"They're that hard up?"

"Lost a lot of their territory to Three Rivers in the last five years."

Gail scowled. "How did we miss that?"

"They didn't do it the usual ways. They've been slowly picking up smaller gangs, folding them in without putting their name on things. Wasn't till this last year they came out of the shadows and consolidated."

That was incredibly brilliant. "Are they being run by some businessman?"

Steve laughed. "I think so, actually. The Anton Hill takeover is ... Well. It's smart. They get the territory and the drug access."

"Can't believe they're doing that again." She put her feet down and fired up her laptop. "Who's in charge?"

"And that's my problem, sister. Not a damn clue. Arana rolled over on Hill's folks but he's as smart as a bag of wet hair." Gail laughed at him and Steve smiled. "I need your okay to ship him off to Manitoba for a while."

Protection. She nodded. "Sure. Paperwork?"

"Send it when I get downstairs."

They both sighed. "Okay. What are your next steps?"

Steve ran a hand through his grey, thinning, hair. "Follow my leads to find the new home base of Three Rivers. See if I can follow them upstream. They've been working as separate, small, units for so long, they've damn near perfected the system. I can pick out one or two, but they have dozens."

Not a great thing for the cops. "Keep at it. I'll get you whatever resources I can. The last thing the mayor wants is for Toronto to be a major drug centre for North America."

"I'll try to leave that to New Jersey," smirked Steve. "Dinner at your place next Thursday? Third Thursday."

Gail rolled her eyes. "This is your excuse to eat my cooking."

"My baby sister has hidden talents. I've seen your sugar flowers." Steve gave her a winning smile.

"And what would you like for your sixtieth birthday, Captain Spaz?"

Her brother spluttered. "That is two years away, you brat. And I plan to retire before then."

It was impossible not to look hurt. She felt hurt. "You're really doing it?"

"One more year," nodded Steve. "Uncle Eli's offer is too good. Less work, less stress." He looked at his hands. "You should think about it too, you know. Imagine all the time you could spend with Holly."

"Not yet," she replied, softly.

Steve shook his head. "Keep an eye on not yet, Garbage Pail. Don't let it be too late."

She knew what he meant and smiled. "I want to get out alive, Ginger."

They shared a look. "The pale fails reign supreme," agreed Steve.

Indeed they did.

After Steve left, Gail put the projection of her case notes up in the wall. Technology that she had only dreamed of twenty years ago was real now. The wall was just a monitor that had clear glass, safe to write on with a dry erase marker, covering it. Stupid brilliant. That she could double tap the glass and have it copy her handwriting into notes on the computer, or drag and drop boxes, was the epic stuff made of dreams.

Gail stared at the notes for Three Rivers. Her timeline was filled with questions. When she'd been a rookie in Major Crimes, she'd taken them apart when they'd been in the midst of an internal take over. "Out with the old, Bobby Z." She stared at his name on the far left. They had epically failed taking on the mafia type folks. Body drops.

She smiled and stepped down the timeline. Minor flirts with the law here and here. Drugs, all minor. Guns. Ditto. Then they fell off the radar around the time Vivian was twelve. That must have been when they branched out into minor groups. Gail scribbled that on her wall and tapped it. That gave them over a decade of practice, hiding their true goals.

"Take small gangs and let them keep their names. Not stupid," she muttered. That had, in part, been their problem last time. They pushed their new names and agendas on to the old crew and cause dissension in the ranks. Tapping her lip, Gail frowned. "Of course you have to be damn brilliant to keep that many small groups in line, going the same direction."

She'd been struggling with three divisions. But they were fairly large, and one had been corrupt, so it wasn't a shock that they were reluctant to a Peck Takeover. When you had that many balls to juggle, you screwed up and dropped them. Which was how a baby rookie accidentally caught them on her first day.

Gail stared at the wall. Steve had a short list of some of the gangs that were a part of the Three Rivers Conglomerate.

"What we need are the little guys," Gail decided. She picked up her phone and tapped Chloe's number. Technically Chloe too worked for her, under the Organized Crime auspice.

"Hey Gail," sang Chloe. "What's up?"

The last thing Butler had told her was to always set the tone. Be the voice you wanted to hear back. Gail pulled her most professional one. "Price. I'm going to need some of your guys to go undercover and get into small gangs. Find out how they feed back to Three Rivers. These might be long ops."

Chloe was quiet for a moment. "Just when I thought things were getting a little too rote around here," she laughed. "Can I have next week to plan it out?"

Speed would make them fuck up. Also it was Thursday. "Take till the end of the month," she decided. "I want this plan locked and solid. Your best guys."

And her best asset in undercover ops sounded unusually serious. "You got it."

Now all they needed was that in.

* * *

The Don River Forks. It was a semi popular walk along the Don Rivers. It started along the West Don, crossed the East, and then passed the Forks, where the two joined into the Lower Don. This part of the Don Valley looked like crap. Industrialized. The research online told her it flooded a lot.

The trail on the website cited it as a mere 6 kilometers, so Vivian tightened her sneakers and took off down the marked path. She could easily make the run down the trail and back in 45 minutes, even with time for looking around and seeing who the people were. Running while looking was different than running for fun, and she knew it would take her a little longer than her normal pace (which was around 3.5 minutes per kilometer, and yes, Gail hated her for it).

Her plan was simple. Go for a run, get a feel for the area. See the people around, and probably come up empty. But hey. It was her theory. The gang had started here. It was a stupid theory, but Gail had chased a stupid theory about ambulances and that led her to this same gang and a whole career. Not that Vivian wanted to be in Major Crimes. It didn't thrill her.

And as expected, she didn't find a damn thing. It was nice, normal, and people said hello to her on her run. No lurking gangs, or kids skulking around, or anything like that. The way the place got washed out every time it rained, Vivian suspected there wouldn't be any secret lairs or bases like they had out by the cottage.

Her parents were going up to the cottage later that month, alone. And Vivian was jealous of them. "God, I need a date," she muttered and slowed to a walk as she hit the parking lot. She'd kind of dated a girl when she'd been in the Academy, but that had lasted about as long as it took for her to find out Vivian was really going to be a cop.

Logging her run on her watch, Vivian unlocked her car to drive to work. She could shower there and not have to deal with Gail's increasingly direct comments about how Liv was avoiding them. The engine made a terrible noise. Provided her car would start.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She cranked the engine. No go. Shit. The crapmobile, which was actually a damned awesome detective kitted out Dodge, was finally dying. Vivian popped the hood and stared at the engine long enough to know a lost cause. She could do most minor repairs on her car, but this was nothing she knew by sound.

One short call to CAA, one long tow to her mechanic's, and one medium wait for the shop to actually open, resulted in Vivian wheedling a quick check on what had happened. "You won't like it," said the mechanic as he wrapped up.

"Sing me the song of your people, Tad," she sighed. He handed her a piece of paper. Vivian read it and winced. "Damn it, I just got those tires!" Of all the things they'd warned her about the last time she'd been in, the computer failing was not something she'd expected. But apparently it was dead, and it would be thousands to replace.

"I know. Have you thought about selling her?"

Vivian eyed him. "I'm not against the idea."

Tad nodded. "See, the parts you need are more than I could get you for the parts you got. She's a money pit. But your car has a lot of high end parts from the original maker. And those are hard to get."

She nodded back. "So you want to buy my car for parts. What about the tires?"

"Them too," he smiled. "Do you have time to crunch numbers?"

Looking at her watch, Vivian sighed. "Let me make a call first."

Somehow she managed to get to work before parade and with the check in hand. God maybe felt pity on her. If God was inclined to help a daughter of an agnostic and an atheist who was possibly the anti-Christ.

"What happened to you?" Jenny asked it. She and Lara were dressed before Vivian had rushed through her shower, but they both stuck around.

"Car died," grumbled Vivian, pulling on her clothes as fast as she could. "Dead dead, too."

Lara winced. "No wheels. Did you get scrap for it?" Vivian nodded, yanking her black undershirt on. "Maybe you can pick one up at the auction?"

Sadly the next auction was at the end of the month. She could wait for a month, catching rides with people and her mom, but Vivian felt like she needed a change. "Yeah, maybe," she grumbled.

Jenny patted Vivian's shoulder. "Check the board? I think Collins is selling his car."

That was an option too, though Vivian wasn't sure she wanted another used car. She did look and was startled. Nick wasn't selling his car, he was selling his _bike_. In specific, he was selling his relatively new motorcycle. This was the one he'd gotten just a couple years ago. Vivian had learned to ride on his previous bike, a skill Holly and Gail insisted she master so they could rent motorcycles in Greece. That had been awesome.

And she realized right away that she could never get away with buying it.

Even if she managed to talk Nick about buying it, he would never sell it to her. Why? He was just too afraid of her mother. With good reason, of course, Gail was terrifying. And Nick had left her at the altar, so he had a lot to fear from an angry Gail Peck. But. Damn it, the bike felt like such a cool thing.

Her life, she'd tried to be normal. Boring even. Because no one looked deeply at the boring, normal, girl. Maybe she didn't have to be boring. She could be a quiet, introspective, motorcycle rider. That was practically expected. Lesbians on motorcycles were a thing.

But, damn it, he'd never sell to her. And he wasn't even at the station.

She made it into parade with time to spare, though not much, and Vivian found herself paired with McNally for a change. "Grab your gear, Peck. We're in 1509."

For whatever reason, Vivian hadn't yet run with Andy McNally, which was odd. This was her fourth month as a cop and she'd ridden with half a dozen TOs, but not Andy McNally. "You're running late," teased McNally.

"My car finally died." She dropped into the passenger seat. "Where's Nick- Sorry, where's Collins?"

McNally's face screwed up. "Family stuff."

She knew Nick was an orphan. Vaguely Vivian recalled Nick's older brother was named Finn. She'd actually met him once, when Nick had called Holly, of all people, to help him sort out his drunk, wheelchair bound brother. Teen Vivian had been in the car and sworn to silence about the matter. Not that Gail didn't know about Finn. She'd been the only person not surprised to hear about him decades past.

Best not to speak up about that. "Oh. I thought it was why he's selling his bike."

Her TO's face lit into a smile. "No! He lost a bet with me about it." And McNally told a convoluted (even by McNally standards) story about how Nick and Andy had a deal with the bike and he could keep in provided he meet certain criteria. "But he took Aronson to autopsy last week."

Vivian laughed. She knew that Jenny had booted right there in autopsy. "I bet he says you cheated by making me and Rich go with Duncan."

"He did," admitted McNally, with her big grin flashing. "But don't ask about buying it. Your mom would kill me."

Snorting, Vivian looked at the street. "Which one?"

"Both." They shared a look and laughed.

But it gave Vivian an idea. At lunch, she stopped in the bank and deposited her check. And she took out a cashier's check for the amount of Nick's bike. No negotiations. She had the money, thanks to what was left from her grandparent's estate. It was the only money she had, besides her salary, that was hers to do whatever she wanted without judgement.

Technically she had the trust fund as well, which had only been used for college. That money was Peck money. Armstrong money. In her case, it worked out the same way. Either way, it had a hell of a lot of strings attached to it, from both her moms (who had clear parent ideas about how that money should be spent) and her great-uncle Eli (who had sat her down for a lecture about where the money came from when she'd changed her name). She didn't have the majority of the money yet, either. That wouldn't happen until 25. Two more years.

Buying a motorcycle would be frivolous and wasteful. Holly hadn't been pleased that Vivian had bought a car at sixteen, but hadn't argued about it. That said, Gail thought it was sensible, had it not been Steve's old car. Sometimes it was hard to tell what would annoy her moms or not.

She just ... Vivian just needed a change. She didn't want to run off and be someone else, or make an emergency situation and scare them off. She wasn't up a tree. And hey, that metaphor finally made sense! Vivian wasn't her mothers. Of course she would always see them in her, which was awesome, but she needed to be her own person in a different way.

All she had to do was just convince someone to do her a favor. It couldn't be Christian, everyone would know that was for her. Vivian grabbed the sheet off the notice board, hoping no one noticed, and shoved it in her pocket. Maybe one of the older officers who knew her... Except the all were afraid of Gail too. She needed someone who didn't know Gail or Holly, but would still do her a favor.

As she stood in the hallway, mulling her options, she spotted Lara carrying files. "Hey, Volk, c'mere."

"Hey, how's riding with McNally?"

Vivian blinked. "Oh, fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

Shrugging, Lara put her files down. "You just looked sneaky and Collins got in all grumpy... Thought maybe they were having a domestic."

Interesting where people went. "Nick's here?" She felt a smile cross her face.

Lara stepped back. "Okay. Now you look evil. Like... Like _Parent Trap_ evil."

Actually, Vivian had done that as a child. She'd managed to get her parents up to the cottage to rekindle the romance. "No. No, look, remember I said my car died?"

"Sure," nodded Lara. And Vivian pulled Nick's for-sale sheet out of her pocket. "Hey! That's a cool idea."

"Yeah, but I have a problem. See, I need you to buy it for me. I can give you a cashier's check right now, but I can't buy it from Collins."

Shrewd Lara studied Vivian's face. "You can't buy it?"

Vivian gave her some of the truth. "Because Nick knows my Mom and he'll never sell it to me."

That seemed to make sense to Lara. "So you want me to buy the bike from Nick and then just give it to you?" When Vivian nodded, Lara grimaced. "Why me?"

God, why did she have to be so nosy? "Because Nick would know C was doing it for me. And Jenny would say no. And God help me, I'm not dealing with Rich and dykes on bikes jokes."

Her classmate quirked a smile. "Do you know how to ride?"

Ironically, Nick had taught her. "Yes." She pulled out her license and showed the motorcycle designation there. "Come on, I'll owe you." Vivian held up the check.

"Oh. A Peck will owe me?" Lara laughed and took the check. "You really want this bike, huh?"

Vivian looked up at the ceiling for a moment. How could she possibly break down her crap right now to a near stranger? She couldn't. "Yes. I really do."

Looking her in the eyes, Lara nodded. "Okay." She looked at the check and then Vivian. "But when I ask for my payback, it's going to come with a story. You can make if up if you want."

Smiling, Vivian said, "It'll involve unicorns."

"And princesses? Why Vivian Peck, I didn't know you had that in you!"

* * *

Her least favorite case was the kind she couldn't solve. Holly prided herself on her closed case numbers and with good reason. In her time as chief medical examiner, case closures had improved by 7.3%, and convictions due to her lab's work were up 11.8% compared to her predecessor.

It did help, having one of the best in Major Crimes at her beck and call. Her relationship with the officers on the force also helped a great deal and she knew it. But having that damn head bashing case show up, once or twice every year, drove her nuts.

Two on the same day, both in cars, in August. Both wearing the same knit caps. It was infuriating. There was never any evidence. The one time they'd managed to find a possible weapon, a tire iron with blood on it, it turned out to be an unrelated case. Whatever gang was running around bashing in heads for fun had been doing so for over thirty years.

Holly stared at her monitor and sighed. Once she'd posited that maybe the tuques were the clue, but they were random and varied. Then she'd tried the jackets, since all the crimes had victims wearing puffy jackets. All that had done was given her a lead on the summer crimes, which was why she knew the beatings went back to the early 2000s. Except she'd been able to find some possibly related crimes traipsing back into the 1980s and Holly had a feeling this was even older than that.

Stumped, yet again, Holly filed away her notes and checked her phone. It was time. She dialed St. Pats. "Dr. Stewart for Dr. Jacques, please." She waited until the phone clicked over. "Hey, Leon."

"Hi, Holly," said the man, his voice booming down the line. "You are on time like a clock."

She smiled at his cheerful tone. "You sound happy. Good news?"

"Depends on your point of view, I suppose. The infection's under control."

Holly exhaled. "Well that's good."

"He's not in good health, Holly. I know he's your friend but... How much do you want to know?"

She looked out her window. "He's my friend's brother, actually," Holly explained. "Tell me everything."

Her fellow doctor sighed loudly and gave her the breakdown on what was wrong with Finn Collins. He needed to stop drinking and he needed to be more active. His infection was from poor health care and cleaning habits, and he was barely healthy enough to have fought it off this long.

"We can keep him here for the month, but I would recommend full time care."

Holly closed her eyes. "How is he mentally?"

"You mean can I put him on a psych check?" Jacques sounded thoughtful. "You think the infection was intentional? A slow suicide? Sounds rather grotesque."

"We've both seen worse. Can you get someone to run an eval on him?"

"Of course. May I ask why you want me to keep him?"

"His brother's a police officer. That's an expense he may not be able to shoulder." And there was no way Nick would accept a dime from them. He was already unhappy about asking Holly to lean on her doctor friends just to get Finn treatment now.

Jacques ah'ed softly. "I see. I'll do what I can, Holly." Then he laughed. "You know, when you called me out of the blue, I thought it might be something else."

Holly laughed as well. "Like I'd finally found you a fifth wife?"

"Like you were quitting your tawdry job and coming back to _real_ medicine?"

She snorted. "You and Lisa can shut up, Leon. I love my job."

They chatted for a while about their jobs and lives. Leon had four ex wives and three children. He was happy to talk to her about their shared experiences as parents. That Holly's kid was a cop was surprising, but Leon had met Gail and said he understood. His own children had no interest in being like him. He also gave Holly a great deal of information of what could be done.

Holly took the information with her down to Fifteen at the end of the day and found Nick, weirdly smiling. "Hey, you're happy."

"Sold my bike. Andy thinks it's that bet we had but..." Nick shook his head. "I think I can afford that assisted home." He looked at Holly, concerned. "How long do I have?"

"At least till the end of the month." She sat on his desk and held up a thumb drive. "Everything's on here, Nick. Take your time. Talk to Andy. I'll explain everything I can."

He nodded. "Okay. I just... You know, he's my brother."

She didn't know. She was an only child. "I get it," she said, not really a lie. Gail had been panicking lately, realizing that Steve was serious about retiring. It cut at Gail to be the last Peck from her era.

Nick nodded. "Thank you."

Reaching over, Holly patted his arm. "We're practically family, Nick. So. Who did you sell the bike to?"

"Volk," he beamed. "She talked me into throwing in the helmets and my top-box."

"Well it's not like you're going to use them," teased Holly.

"God you sound like Andy," he laughed. They glanced over as the rookies clamored through, Vivian in the middle. "She's doing good," Nick said softly.

Nodding, Holly watched her daughter awkwardly chatting with the other four rookies, scratching the back of her head just like Gail and Steve did when they were uncomfortable. "Its my job to worry," she replied, quietly.

The one thing that worried her about Vivian as a cop was her closed off nature. It had taken so long to get her to open up to Gail and Holly, but Viv had never mastered the casual friendship that most people made. She was unwilling to talk about herself to the general world, and while Holly knew why, it was still a little sad.

"How about we go look at the newbie on the motorcycle," offered Nick, pushing back from his desk.

Holly smiled. "Did you even check if she has a license?" When Nick looked stricken, Holly broke out laughing. "Oh now we have to go look."

She led Nick out to the parking lot and stopped in the doorway, Nick plowing into her. Holly barely heard Nick ask what was wrong as she stared at the motorcycle. The rookies were standing around watching the motorcycle do a slow circle. "Hey... That's not Volk."

It was not. Lara Volk was a little shorter than Holly. The woman on the motorcycle was closer to six feet tall and she was wearing a jacket Holly had bought for a trip to Vancouver. "No, it is not," Holly said darkly and stepped out to the lot, pulling out her phone and taking a photo. "You sold your bike to my daughter."

"I did not!" Nick hissed and leaned forward. "I sold it to Volk!"

But they watched as Lara took the second helmet and got on behind Vivian, calling her classmates suckers, and the two drove off. Holly scowled and texted Gail.

_It_ _'_ _s Thursday after work. Do you know where your daughter is?_

A moment later, Gail replied.

_Going to the Penny with friends and told me not to wait for her. Why do I feel like this is a trick question?_

Holly sent the photo. It was Nick's phone that lit up a few moments later. "Yikes," he muttered. "I'm dead."

"That is a distinct possibility," sighed Holly. "I'll go talk to her." Inside the Division, she found Gail in her office, packing up for the day. "I think our child tricked him."

"Oh? So I only have to kill her?" The tone was one Holly knew. Gail wasn't really mad at Nick or Vivian. She was just surprised and Gail hated surprises.

Closing the office door, Holly walked up and looped her arms around Gail's neck. "Hey," she said softly.

Gail pouted. "She bought a _motorcycle_. Did you know her crapmobile died this morning?"

"No."

"When did she stop talking to us? First the whole thing with Liv, whatever the hell that is, and now a motorcycle?" Gail's hands found Holly's waist and she sighed, letting her head drop to Holly's shoulder.

Pressing her cheek to Gail's temple, Holly hummed thoughtfully. "We raised a smart, independent, capable, daughter, who doesn't like to talk about herself."

Gail sighed loudly. "I was going to the range."

"Have you been this week?"

"No."

Holly nodded and kissed her forehead. "You go shoot things. I'll make dinner. Chicken, Brolio, roast vegetables." She let go of Gail and cupped her cheeks. "Don't yell at Nick too much."

For a moment, Gail looked crushed. Then she leaned in to kiss Holly's lips. "Thank you," she said softly.

By the time Gail got home, she seemed to be back into a better head place. They didn't wait for Vivian, knowing she was probably stalling to get home, and sat on the back deck with plates of chicken and wine. They didn't talk about family or work, but other things. Holly showed Gail a new meme she'd found, Gail told Holly about a song her new transfer sang in the car when they went to check on a case.

They talked about a plan to go up to the cottage without their kid, which made Gail hesitate. "She's probably going to move out soon."

Holly blinked. "You think?"

"The motorcycle, the going out. I think she's figuring out who she is as an adult." Gail swirled her wine in the glass.

That was possible. "She's been struggling the last few years," agreed Holly. "Since she changed her name."

Gail sighed. "Life as a Peck is not what she thought."

"She changed her name, lost both her best friends, and started college. It's a lot for anyone, Gail. What were you doing at her age?"

Smiling, Gail put the wine down. "Let's see. Making a fool of myself trying to be cool at the Academy. Sleeping with Chris right after he'd broken up with Denise. Oh and lying to Dov about it. Brown nosing. Picking family over my 'friends.' The usual." She'd even made the air quotes. "And you, Miss Perfect?"

"That's _Dr_. Perfect. I didn't spend all that time at evil medical school just to be called Miss Perfect." She leaned back and looked over the back yard. "Sleeping with my TA, going to every single gay club I could, getting Lisa out of trouble, and ... Screwing around, mostly, while acing my boards."

Gail snorted. "Acing."

"Of the two of us, you're the one who made Dean's List," reminded Holly.

"Yeah, that does make me wonder about the merit of you being top of your class," Gail grinned and leaned over to kiss Holly softly. "What will life be like when our mini-human loves out?"

A fair question. They'd spent more of their life together with Vivian than without. "Quiet."

Smiling, Gail noted, "We can have sex with the door open."

"Interesting how that's your first thought," laughed Holly. "You can walk around naked again."

"Oh my god," groaned Gail. "The _one_ time at Andy's!" But her eyes were laughing.

The garage door sounded and they both glanced inside. "Be nice."

Gail smiled. "I'm over it," she promised. "We're out back," she called to the main house.

A moment later, Vivian came outside with a plate of her own. "Hi."

"Hi," replied Gail, smiling sweetly. Holly pinched her arm. "What happened to the car?"

"The computer died." She sat opposite her parents and took a bite. "Good chicken mom," Viv said to Holly. She always knew.

Leaning against Gail, Holly smiled. "You're welcome." They didn't say anything else. Holly eyed Gail, who shook her head minutely. Oh. They were waiting Vivian out.

It wasn't too long before Vivian put down her knife and fork. "Okay, why are you mad?"

"Because you pulled one over on Nick without us," smiled Gail. Vivian blinked a little. "Come on, I know he wouldn't sell you the bike on his own. He's terrified of me and owes your Mom way too much."

Holly shook her head. "He sold it to Lara. Volk. The one who passed out."

Smiling her most malevolent grin, Gail kissed Holly. "I love that's how you remember them."

Making a face, Vivian pointed at her plate. "I'm eating here." Gail laughed and then got a perfectly evil look on her face. "What are you doing, Mom?"

Gail pulled her phone out. "I'm texting Nick and asking him not to tell McNally if he hasn't yet… You're going to drive to work on your own tomorrow, kid."

While Vivian complained she didn't want to be a part of Gail's hazing shenanigans, Holly just smiled. "Someone take photos for me." She wouldn't stop Gail's childishness even if she could.

* * *

Vivian heard the conversation as she turned off the engine. She'd known Andy for years and knew her voice well. "A new rookie on a motorcycle? So predictable."

"Isn't that Nick's?" That was her aunt Traci. Vivian could actually hear the smirk.

"Oh yeah, he sold it to…" Andy trailed off and Vivian glanced in her mirror. Lara was walking right by them. "Her… Hey, Volk. Didn't you buy Nick's bike?"

Lara looked at the bike and nodded. "I did. But I was… I was just the middle man."

In all likelihood, Holly would complain if she didn't get a photo. Vivian took her phone out and aimed it at McNally as she pulled off her helmet. Okay. Fine. The face was epic. Both Traci and Andy stood there with dropped jaws. Right away she sent the photo to her mothers. "Morning," she smiled at her aunts.

By the time she was on patrol, in another junkyard, with Coburn as her TO, her moms had texted back their delight. Nick had been true to his word and not told Andy about the bike. Apparently it was easier to lie to Andy than to disobey Gail. Though Vivian could understand that. Gail had an ability to be very intense sometimes.

That was why Vivian hadn't introduced her other girlfriends to her parents. They knew about the girls in general, but there was no reason to introduce people she knew she wasn't really serious about. Vivian had liked them and her parents could be complicated. Of course, they'd known about Pia the artist, and they'd almost met Skye twice. But her last girlfriend, bad sex and a wanna be open relationship who wasn't pleased that Vivian was going to be a cop, had gotten nowhere near her moms.

Ugh. She needed to stop dwelling on her sex life, or lack there of.

"See anything, Peck?" Coburn was okay to work with. He was pretty quiet, which Vivian appreciated. They were walking up and down the aisles of the junkyard, looking for more dead guys.

"Nada," she yawned.

Coburn grunted and they turned down another aisle. There were a surprising number of boring moments, being a cop. Paperwork was boring but easy. It took time, which was annoying as hell, but it rarely took brains. Patrol could be boring, and often was, when you walked and walked and nothing happened. Which made the subsequent paperwork super boring. But those were also good days. The alternative were days where she sprinted after idiots, or dug through garbage, or fell in puke... Which had happened twice now.

Today was boring and hot and annoying. The odds of running into another dead body was slim to none. The chances of a case that was going to be related the a two decade long head bashing was so unlikely as to be laughable. But there she was on a Friday, walking up and down the aisles of a junkyard. Looking.

By the time she got back to the station, she was sticky, sweaty, sure her uniform reeked, and wanted nothing more than to fall into the lake up at the cottage and freeze. Cottage. Shit. Vivian pulled her phone out and stared at the dates. Her parents were going to the cottage for some alone time next week.

Vivian grimaced and lay down on the bench.

"Uh oh," laughed Lara as she came in. "What happened to our silent eager beaver?"

"It's not easy being green," suggested Jenny, and Vivian snorted.

They had no idea how funny that was to her. Green. "I used to be Green," she mused. "But now I'm Peck."

There was a pause. "Are you drunk, Peck?"

"No. I have to drive home."

Lara sat down and leaned over to look at Vivian's face. "Have you _always_ been a grown up, mature, responsible pain in the ass?"

Thinking about it for a moment, Vivian sighed. "Yes."

"Right," grumbled Lara. "Here's the deal. You need a night with the girls."

"Yeah, not driving home drunk, my mother would kill me." Both of them would. They might actually take turns, she realized.

Lara snorted. "You're an idiot. You, me, Jenny. We're going out. We'll hit up some bars. Dance with stupid boys. Get way too drunk, take a taxi home, and sleep."

Taxis. Huh. It was like tomatoes. Things she just didn't really do often. "I don't dance," noted Vivian, but she sat up.

"Because you're gay?" Jenny opened her locker. "I know a couple good gay bars."

"I went to one, count 'em, one dance as a kid," explained Vivian, taking her shoes off. "It did not end well." She didn't dance, she didn't sleep over. "I'm just really boring," she added.

"Clearly we need to de-boring our Peck." Lara clapped her shoulder. "Shower. Have _a_ beer at the Penny."

Vivian grimaced. "I had a feeling I smelled."

"You're a special sort of stench right now, Peck," teased Jenny.

She did go to the Penny, though. It was the end of the week, after all, and the cases were at ends where the rookies weren't needed. The winner of Jenny's silly chart contest was Lara, with Vivian a reluctant but close second, for their discoveries of dead bodies and cars. Christian and Jenny had been on desk duty, while Rich had done checks on the elderly.

As loathe as she was to admit it, it was nice to hang out with them. She felt pretty normal for a change.

"So basically we all suck," decided Christian. "God, I want to go undercover." He put his head on the table.

"Cheer up," offered Vivian. "I heard there might be a sting op from sex crimes." That had been the news from Wet Peck, whose sister was in sex crimes. She was not called Sex Peck. That would have been too weird, even for the Pecks.

Jenny perked up. "You hear that from a good source?"

While Vivian nodded, Rich asked, "What does that have to do with us?"

It was Christian who explained. "If they're doing a sting on Johns, they need new faces. Viv, true up. Who's a better boy toy. Me or Rich?"

All three women studied the boys. "Christian," they said as one.

The look on Rich's face was hilarious. "You all suck," he complained. "Older ladies like me, and I bet Inspector Williams will pick me."

Vivian smirked. "She's married to Superintendent Best over in the big building."

That put a damper on it in Rich's mind, thank god. "Man are they all married? You said Detective Peck, the one on our floor, is married!"

But even Jenny knew this one. "Traci Peck? Yeah, she's married to the Peck up in in Guns and Gangs."

"Steve," offered Christian, smiling. Vivian kicked him under the table. "Also she's an Inspector."

"McNally's dating Collins," complained Rich. "Sgt. Price is married to Sgt. Epstein..." He went down the list of all the women over forty in the station and then ended with an unexpected one. "And that sexy blonde Peck with the short hair, who heads up OC, looks like she'd cut me alive."

Vivian somehow managed to stifle a laugh. "Inspector Gail Peck. She's married." This time, Christian kicked her under the table.

"Are there _any_ single, mature, ladies?" The wail from Rich was positively hilariously.

"Dr. Ury, but she likes 'em older too," mused Vivian. "Oh, there's Officer Polo. She's single. So's Taft. She's divorced and on the rebound." Her classmates stared at her. "What? I pay attention."

"She doesn't talk much," Lara remarked. "But when she does, it's things I hadn't noticed. What is your secret, Peck?"

Oh. She had a couple good ones. Like her relationship with Liv. Or her parents. Or her birth parents. "I'm very boring," she said as flatly as possible. "I have to fill the void of my life with everyone else's."

Lara laughed. "Look, I just want something besides the stupid case that'll never get solved to think about."

Picking up a beer, Jenny frowned. "Never get solved? The whack-a-mole case?"

"Yeah, I heard Dr. Stewart and McNally talking about how it'd been recurring for _decades_." Lara shook her head. "Fucking nightmare. Going on at all the Divisions."

"Ain't that cheerful." Rich leaned back and downed his beer. "Alright ladies. I'm going hunting. Raaaaawr." He made claw at the collected rookies and left to go talk to an older woman at the bar.

Jenny sighed. "I'm having trouble believing he's real. Did he walk out of a catalogue?"

"Abercrombie Assholes from the 1990s?" Vivian smiled and sipped her beer. "He's actually a good cop."

"And I'm a drag queen," muttered Christian.

Vivian turned and looked at the bar. "It's true, C. And he's about to strike out."

The only man at the table laughed. "Who's he after?"

"Officer Luck from TwentySeven." Vivian picked up her phone and snapped a photo. "Jen's on the diversity whatever they call it. Team." In the brief moment of confused silence, Vivian sighed. "She's a lesbian."

They all watched Rich strike out and move on to the next person. "He's going to run through the Division soon," mused Lara. "You could take a note from that, though, Peck. Go out and live a little."

She had heard that before. Vivian shook her head. She tired like hell to avoid conversations like this. "When's the last time you went on a date Lara?"

That sufficiently distracted the gang enough to move on to the next part of the night, which was darts. At least Vivian could comfortably show off her talents at the dartboard. Safer than people poking at her personal life.

* * *

Kicking the foot of Vivian's door, Gail raised her voice. "Child. Get up. Laundry, mopping, brunch." No answer. That was rare. Gail opened the door and poked her head in to check. No Vivian. Even more rare. The bed was unmade, but that was normal lately. It drove Gail crazy, but she let it go.

"Hey, no snooping," chastised Holly as she walked by with their sheets.

"No child," noted Gail.

Holly dumped the sheets into the basket Gail held. "Twenty-three is not a child."

"She could have told us she wasn't coming home," grumbled Gail, stripping Vivian's bed and getting out fresh sheets, though those she just left on the bed. Vivian could make her own bed. "Nice ass."

Rolling her eyes, Holly went downstairs. "You are incorrigible, Gail."

"You're just really sexy," called back Gail, and she grabbed the towels from Viv's bathroom, taking it all down to the basement for a wash. On the way, she poked her head into the garage. No motorcycle.

Was it wrong to be worried that her kid was dead in a ditch somewhere? Gail started the laundry and went back to find her phone and check on where the phone said her daughter was. Moving on Queen's Quay. Okay, probably alive.

Holly caught her at it and shook her head. "What would you have done before phones?"

"Called Dispatch and asked for eyes on her. Why?"

"Stop being a Peck," sighed Holly, reaching over and taking the phone out of her wife's hands. "If a concerned parent came up to you and said their daughter was missing for 8 hours, and she was 24, what would you tell them?"

Sometimes memory was a brat. "I would have apologized and said it hadn't been long enough," muttered Gail. The name sprung into her brain. A memory of over twenty years ago. A dark and terrible day. "We found her though."

Holly eyed her. "Found…?"

"Gracie Alison Finn. Her dad came in after she'd been missing about 9 hours. She was Viv's age, 23. Kidnapped by Adam Sawyer." Gail plucked her phone back out of Holly's hand. She'd met Holly a scant month later.

"Honey..." Holly's face fell into one of understanding sadness.

Shaking her head, Gail shoved the phone into her pocket. "Yeah, I'm gonna worry, Holly. Always. Because I know exactly how bad it gets," she said bitterly.

It wasn't Holly's fault and she knew that. Sometimes the weight you carried around crushed you. "Gail," said Holly, gently. It was her apologetic tone.

"No, not right now, okay?" Gail turned and walked back to the kitchen. "I'm not mad, I just don't want to talk about that."

"Okay," Holly replied softly. And she did give Gail space.

Once in a while, things were reversed and Holly needed the silence and space to sort through what was in her head. Gail just wanted to shut up the memory for a while. You were supposed to worry about your kids less as they grew up. They were people, after all, and they could take care of themselves. But Gail recognized she was always going to be a little more worried than the normal parent about some things.

She tried to cover it up with her sarcasm and teasing nature, but the truth was a little darker. After everything she'd seen in twenty-five years on the force, Gail couldn't objectively look at the world anymore. Half her life ago, and it was still colored by the pain from one stupid night where they got the wrong guy and she should have checked the damn door.

She was still cooking in the kitchen when Vivian made in home.

"Hey," announced the kid, sounding pretty awake for someone out all night.

"Hey, you are sweaty and disgusting," replied Holly. "Where were you?"

"Suicide Sprints with the guys from ETF. Hi, Mom."

Gail glanced over and saw her daughter taking her motorcycle jacket off and falling onto the couch. "Your laundry is in the wash," Gail called over and tossed the tuna into the pan.

"Thanks," yawned Vivian. "Sue says hi."

When Gail didn't reply, she heard her daughter sit up and ask if something was wrong. "No," said Holly quietly. "Though where were you last night?"

"Here," replied Vivian, sounding absolutely perplexed. "I got home at like two. You guys were asleep."

"And you went to do suicide sprints this morning?" Her wife was sounding dubious. "Honey, I'm thinking she was swapped out with another child at the judge's office."

Shaking her head, Gail kept making the fresh tuna salad. She knew what Holly was doing. Holly was giving her a timeline to make her see that Vivian had never been at risk for being dead in a ditch. She came home, slept a few hours, and went back out because she was insane. Just like them.

Gail listened to Vivian tell Holly about how she did darts, and how Rich hit on Jen Luck and yes, she got pictures. Holly asked about how she was getting along with her classmates. When Vivian told her that Lara wanted to get her out and date, Holly said she thought that wasn't a bad idea.

The kid was avoiding dating and anything personal with the rookies lately. Something had gone down with Liv a month ago, that was for sure. But Vivian had never really been great at people. She didn't trust them not to hurt her, which made sense. Scars lingered. And Gail understood why Vivian didn't want her new friends to dig too much into the life of a kid who was adopted. They might find out her past.

Neither of them wanted to be that tragic little girl. And back to Perik again. Gail put her hands on the counter and sighed, trying to get her head out of that hole. It was a recipe for nightmares. She was too tense and to twitchy. It all clung to her too tightly, like clothes that didn't fit.

Her wrist buzzed and Gail glanced down to see the heartbeat from Holly. As stupid as that had seemed years ago when they first got the watches, it was a simple way to poke each other. Looking over at the couch, Holly had her back to the kitchen and was almost absently talking to Vivian about how it was good to go out and change things up now and then.

Gail tapped her watch to send a heartbeat back. Then she pulled out her phone and checked something. The fish was done and she took it off the heat. "Holly, can I leave the salad for you to finish?"

Her wife looked over, perplexed. "Sure. Work call?"

"Mm. No."

But Holly didn't ask more. Gail went upstairs, found her yoga gear, and came back down. The kid was gone and Holly was making the salad, reading Gail's notes in the cookbook. "Where's the troublesome one?"

"Showering and she said she'd finish the laundry." Holly half turned and her mouth opened to say 'ah' as she saw Gail's gear. "Have fun," she told Gail, smiling but not leaning towards her to get a kiss.

Gail nodded. "I'm not ... I'm not mad, Holly."

Her wife nodded back. "I know," she said. And the tone, the way she said it and the way she smiled gently, told Gail she really did know. "Shoo. Go do yoga. I'll massage you when you get back. If you like."

Smiling, Gail went to the garage. "I may take you up on that."

Right now, all she hoped was to push the stupid thoughts out of her head so she could sleep.

* * *

On the best of nights, Vivian didn't sleep much. Insomnia sucked. Guilt wasn't helping. After Gail had gone off to impromptu yoga, Holly had explained that Gail had not been particularly happy about her night out. They'd not heard her come home nor had they heard her leave, so from their perspective, the kid hadn't come home at all that night.

When people asked if it was hard having a cop for a parent, they usually meant in the way that cops were protective. They didn't mean it in the way that cops were scared to death because they knew how horrible the world was. Gail had been kidnapped, after all. Holly literally saw death daily. Of course they took things the worst way. They lived them the worst way.

Her parents weren't overprotective. Vivian was the only kid she knew who didn't get in trouble for staying out late or throwing a party. It wasn't just because she was responsible. It was because her moms were trying not to smother her. To let her have a life.

Saturday morning had rolled around with not enough sleep before Vivian found herself wide awake. Sunday morning was inching up before she'd managed to get any more. She'd close her eyes, curl up in bed, and just lie there. Thinking. It sucked.

She left the lights off and stared at her ceiling. The fan made its lazy circle, pushing the air around and keeping the room tolerable between bouts of the air conditioner. Summer. It was inching to an end. Soon she'd be five months a cop and Liv would be away at school.

That was still confusing the hell out of her. She'd tried calling Liv a couple times. Asking if she wanted to come over for dinner because Holly hadn't seen her since she'd been back. Asking if she was okay. All Viv got in return was a text saying Liv was fine. Girls were confusing. You didn't get a free pass on understanding them by being one.

A sound jostled her out of her head. It was followed by a loud 'God Fucking Damnit!' from the master bedroom. In the still of the night, she heard Gail curse again, more quietly. It wasn't a phone call. Vivian sat up and listened carefully. She could identify Gail's footsteps in the hall, hitting the loose floorboard by the office that they had never managed to get to stop squeaking, and then the sound of a light clicking on.

With a sigh, Vivian got up and poked her head out. The office light was on. She turned her head and saw the master bedroom at the end of the hall, still dark, the door cracked open. More quietly than Gail, Vivian slipped out of her room and checked to see that Holly was still sound asleep, draped over most of the bed. Then she walked down the hall, avoiding the loose step, and stuck her head in the office.

As expected Gail was sitting on the couch with her tablet. Unexpected, she was not really reading. She was just staring at the wall. "Hey," Vivian said, trying not to let her nerves show.

Gail looked up. Her face looked… horrible. Like sleep was a joke. And weirdly, Vivian recognized the eyes. She'd seen them in the mirror five years ago, coming back from visiting Liv in Montréal. "What are you doing up?" Matching the eyes, Gail sounded exhausted.

"Can't sleep." She crossed her arms and leaned in the doorway.

Her mother looked concerned. "You okay?"

Why were parents always like that? "Uh, you're a moron, Mom." She walked in and sat on the other end of the couch. "You're the one who had the nightmare."

The look of guilt washed over Gail's face. "Crap," she muttered, rubbing her forehead.

"I'm sorry," sighed Vivian, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around. "I didn't think… I didn't think—"

"Hey." Gail put her tablet down. "This is not your fault. It's not Holly's either. She knows that." Crossing her legs, Gail faced Vivian. "Look. You know my brain's a little broken. I don't get to be in charge of that."

Intellectually she knew that. When she'd been a child, knowing Gail had nightmares was both terrifying and comforting. It scared the hell out of her, seeing someone who was supposed to be the grown up, supposed to protect her, like that. Gail was supposed to be the guardian. She _was_ the shield who kept Vivian and Holly away from he ugliness of the world. At the same time, Vivian had already seen the things people did to each other. She knew how grownups lied.

They'd been up at the cottage the first time she'd seen it. Before then, Vivian had heard snippets of it. Noises of her moms getting up in the night. Gail looking like ass in the morning. Holly hovering around Gail, trying to be supportive and not smothering. Both way too tense.

But the cottage. She'd been eight. Gail had fallen asleep under the tree behind the house. Vivian had been flinging herself off the rope swing over and over until Holly asked her to come inside. Holly was headed into town to pick up some groceries and Vivian said she'd stay if that was okay. After extracting a promise to stay out of the water until she got back, no swimming without supervision, Holly kissed her forehead and told her to let Gail sleep.

Not too long after, Gail had jerked awake. It looked like how it felt when you had a falling dream. Her whole body twitched and then Gail was sitting up, her eyes wide, sweating, and paler than normal. Vivian dropped the book she'd been reading (possibly _The Hunger Games_ , that sounded right…) and Gail's head snapped over to stare at her.

The look was something Vivian hadn't seen before. She'd seen adults angry and hurt and worried. This was actual terror. This was something new and it scared the shit of her. Adults didn't get petrified. Adults were imperfect and screwed up and did stupid ass things. They could be evil and wrong, but they didn't get scared.

There had been a long talk after that. Gail explaining that she did still have nightmares. Which Vivian had known. They'd talked about that. But knowing and seeing were different. It put a spin on all those weird mornings. Suddenly her parents were fallible and human. But instead of scaring her, it made her feel better. Because she had nightmares. And she saw in Gail what she felt. And that meant she, Vivian Green, was normal.

It also meant when she heard her mother up in the middle of the night, Vivian would come and sit with her. Because she understood the pain of memories keeping you up at night. And that was why she sat up with Gail now.

"I know, Mom," she told her quietly.

Gail closed her eyes and leaned her head against the couch. "I really hate it," she muttered.

If it wasn't for that, though, would Gail be as understanding of Vivian's weirdness? "Can I hate that it's still a thing but like that it made you who you are?"

Her mother smiled. "I feel that way myself sometimes." With a sigh, Gail got up. "I'm going to try and sleep. You should too."

"Would if I could, Mom," sighed Vivian.

Gail ruffled Vivian's hair. "Promise me no Suicide Sprints today. Sleep in."

"This conversation feels backwards. Shouldn't I be trying to sleep in and you be trying to get me up?" Stretching, Vivian got up and followed Gail out, flicking off the light as Gail got to the bedroom door.

Lying in her bed, Vivian thought about how her mother having nightmares was a constant. Was it her fault, going out at night and then again in the morning, that Gail associated that with a case? Was it her fault Holly made a somewhat unfortunate word choice to try and calm her wife down that backfired?

Of course she knew the answer was no. But at the same time she didn't have the luxury her peers did of telling her parents they sucked and stomping out. She could move out, and probably should, but that wasn't the point. She had imperfect parents. Unlike everyone else she knew, Vivian felt that in her bones and loved them the more for it.

There wasn't a day she didn't see her moms as awesome people, but she also saw them as humans. She loved them for being her parents who took care of her. They felt that her happiness should be preserved above their own. How weird… Vivian suddenly understood the idiot parents who stayed together for their kids.

It was not a world she liked. She lived in a world where her parents worried about her more than other parents might, in ways that other parents didn't, because of who and what they were. They worried because they knew the truth of the world. They worried because they knew how dangerous her life was. And they still let her go and do the things that scared them.

That was more daunting than pretty much anything else in her life.

Vivian closed her eyes and tried to convince herself to sleep. It might work.

* * *

Filing the case as unsolved, again, pissed Holly off. It bothered her more than she let on to anyone. Except for Gail. And Gail understood those things. But here it was, another year gone by, and she was adding another case to her unsolved folder. It was a special folder filled with head bashings going back to when Gail had just moved in with her. There was another folder within that cross-linked back to cases stretching back longer than either of them had worked for the police.

"Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him?" she asked herself, saving the last entry and closing the folder. "I bet Veronica Mars never put up with shit like this."

The unexpected voice of her wife replied, "Can you imagine if they'd never found out who killed Lilly Kane?" Turning, Holly saw Gail holding up a lunchbox. "You forgot lunch. I need a break from looking at drug running, which I hate. Your office means people won't walk in on me."

Holly smiled and pushed away from her desk. "If this was a TV show, we'd have sex on my desk at this point."

Rolling her eyes, Gail closed the door behind her. "You have a couch, which would be more comfortable. Also sex at work has never ended well. Ever."

"That sounded like the voice of bitter experience," teased Holly. She poured two glasses of water from her cooler. Everyone teased her about it, but it was cheaper than the filters and they didn't have to re-route pipes.

"Chris, making out in a cruiser. Nick… Evidence." Gail sat down and yawned. "Boys are easy."

"Evidence? Really? That's _actually_ gross. I thought you were going to say something like how Andy had sex with Swarek, back in the old days."

Gail laughed. "Weirdly, we just tend to make out in public, though I have a sneaking suspicion some folks have gotten it on in the bathrooms at the Penny." She opened her own lunchbox and took out a salad. Leftovers from Saturday.

Wistfully, Holly remarked, "Back when we were young and hot, we used to make out in interrogation rooms."

"That's true," smiled Gail, leaning over and kissing her softly. "Hi."

This was nicer. "Hi."

"Thanks for letting me sleep in," said the blonde, pouring salad dressing on her food.

"Did you actually get some sleep?" Her wife nodded and Holly exhaled. "Good. Thank you for bringing me lunch, wifey."

The smile on Gail's face was still the one of wonderment and delight. "I'm a very good wife," she drawled. "Barefoot in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the baby."

Holly snorted. "The baby who has been texting us updates on where and when she'll be places? I think I scared her."

"I'd say I was upset, but … " Gail pushed her hair back. It was growing out again, a brownish red, slicked back and sexy. "I'm sorry I was a brat this weekend."

"You weren't," Holly said firmly. "You were worried with good, historical, reasons."

Gail leaned against Holly's shoulder. "I don't know if I can do this. I'm going to die a balled up wreck of nerves because my kid's a cop."

Patting Gail's knee, Holly asked, "Did you call your mom?" Gail nodded and picked at her salad. "And?"

"And after gloating, she had some advice. I'm not too crazy, it seems. And I kinda get why she used to spy on me and Ginger."

Holly snorted a laugh. "Please don't tell me you put a tracking device on Vivian's bike." Gail tried to look innocent but started laughing too soon. "You're terrible."

"You like me," smiled Gail.

"I'm very fond of you," Holly agreed, and kissed her cheek. "May I change the subject away from our child?"

"You may. But if it's about our vacation, yes, I have the time off, and unless Toronto devolves into an all out gang war, we're going to the cottage for a week sans child."

That had been one of Holly's questions, actually. "Is it that bad?"

"It's not good." Gail sighed. "The ends of Anton Hill's people are starting to pick fights with Three Rivers. The takeover isn't going so good."

"Think it'll end in deaths?"

"Usually does. Right now they're posturing. And we still can't find the head of the Rivers' people. They have so many shells... I had to get a damn forensic accountant to try and figure this shit out." Gail stabbed a piece of tuna. "Steve and Chloe are working on it."

Holly knew a lot more about crime than she had two decades ago. She'd always known about death and pain and the puzzles, but only by being with Gail had she learned about how the crimes before the crimes worked. "You have to admit, it's smart. It's kind of like the divisions. Each one covers an area and they all report on home to the chief."

Shaking her head, Gail smiled. "You're complimenting the ingenuity of the devil, darlin'," she teased.

"That was an Oliver-ism," chortled Holly. "Need me to be on the lookout for anything?"

And weirdly, Gail had an answer. "That crap they laced the weed with?"

Weed? Holly screwed up her face. "Wait, from a couple months ago? Unpack that one for me."

"So. My theory." Gail spun her fork between her fingers. "We never found his source, where the Fentanyl came from. He wasn't working for Hill's people. They were trying to get him. What if Hill has the dope and Rivers has the rest? Sneaky buy out. Make Hill dependent on 'em without them even knowing."

It was an interesting theory. "Who was it being accused of complimenting the devil? That's a lot of faith you're putting in their skills."

Gail snorted. "They've hidden from us for over twenty years."

"You weren't exactly looking," she pointed out.

"Hush. They didn't raise any red flags, they didn't trip our radars. They were damn smart, or lucky. They've always been lucky," noted Gail.

Holly leaned in and smiled. "Except when it comes to a certain set of dedicated Pecks."

A small flush touched Gail's face. It didn't take much to make the pink show, but Gail usually kept it well in check. "Which includes a rookie Peck right now," she grumbled, a smile touching the edge of her lips.

"Yeah." Holly reached over and tapped Gail's nose. "You're proud of her, thinking about all this."

"She'll get in over her head, like McNally, if she doesn't watch out," muttered Gail. But the smile was still there oh the corners of her mouth. So Holly smiled back that smile she'd always thought was really derpy and embarrassing and dorky. It was the smile where she only curved her mouth to one side. And Gail melted like butter on a stovetop. "Oh god, yes, fine, I'm proud of her for thinking about how their past is probably a key to what they're doing now, and _maybe_ that the source of their name will tell us how they've formed things."

There it was. Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Besides the obvious about three rivers coming together, it's not a bad idea. Three brothers joined and all that."

Gail stared at her. "What?"

"Three brothers joined. Three unicorns in company, sailing in the noon day will speak. From what is from the light, that the light will dawn and then shines forth the eagle cross..." Holly trailed off as Gail was waffling between grinning and confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her wife gave in to the grin and beamed. "When have you _ever_ memorized anything artistic?"

"It's from a comic book," grimaced Holly. "Tintin. He's a boy reporter- you know what-"

"Hergé? Le Secret de la Licorne?"

Of course. Because if Gail had heard about Tintin, she'd heard about it in French and had probably read all of them. Holly had adored them as a child. She'd probably never have learned to read if not for them, but she was never telling Gail that. Her multilingual wife might never let her live it down. Well. Maybe if she knew how young Holly was when learning to read.

Holly tossed a hand up. "You know it in French."

She did, but Gail's face shifted as she recited. "Trois frères unys. Trois Licornes de conserve voguant au Soleil de midi parleront. Car c'est de la lumière que viendra la lumière. Et resplendira... And then I can't remember the coordinates... la † de l'Aigle. Holy _fuck_." Gail shot to her feet, pulling her phone out. "You're a goddamned genius, Holly."

"Thank you," smiled Holly. "What did I do?"

Gail's thumbs were flying on her iPhone. "Do you remember the name of the pot shop?"

Thinking for a moment, Holly replied, "Rainbow Happiness?"

"And its _sister_ shop, Prancing Unicorn?" Gail was grinning her most evil smile. "That son of a bitch. Those utter assholes. Waving it in our damn faces."

Holly stared at Gail. "Hang on, you think _Tintin_ comics are the clue to all this?"

"Yeah, I do," nodded Gail. "Think about it. Three brothers. A shop named Unicorn. Parchments. You roll weed in parchment. I never heard that damn poem in English!" Gail's phone rang. "I'm not insane Steve, I'm damned brilliant and so is my wife. Eagles. Crosses. Brothers. Find me something where three brothers meet. Okay?"

As her wife turned to the corner to argue with her brother about the case, Holly shook her head. If this turned out to be the answer to what Gail was working on, she wasn't going to let her wife forget about it for years.

Pulling out her own phone, Holly checked the inventory of the local comic book shop and put in a hold on a copy of the two issues that Gail would want. She didn't buy them, just in case, but she did text her mother and asked if they still had her copies of the comics. Her mother, now retired and highly prone to boredom, replied that she'd send them out that afternoon.

"Hey, Holly. Where can I get a copy of the books in English?"

"The comic shop on the corner by the butcher's. They're holding them for you." Holly waggled her phone.

Gail beamed and turned back around. "Thank you. Steve, you get that?" She recited the address of the comic shop. "Yes, perfect. Send a minion out to get them... What? No, idiot. You can't send your niece. That's called nepotism and you know it." Gail hug up and hooted.

"That is the hoot of excellence," said Holly, knowingly.

"That is the hoot of someone whose brother just found a pot shop called Rackham's Vibes."

If she'd been drinking, Holly would have snorted the liquid out her nose. "Isn't that trademark infringement?"

"Can't trademark a name. Doesn't explain Rainbow Happiness, mind. Anyway. We're going to check out the Rackham shop, I have a bet on if the owner's nickname is Red, and Steve is looking into the old owners of Rainbow."

"Try Marlenspike," joked Holly, and was slightly appalled that Gail wrote that down.

"You jest, Dr. Stewart, but if there's anything the losers I've arrested over the years have taught me, it's that they are nothing but predictable and idiotic."

Holly shook her head. "And yet you think they read a pretty esoteric comic."

Raising a finger, Gail said, "And a Spielberg movie." Oh right. That. "People think they're so smart," sighed Gail, happily.

"At least we are." Holly shook her head. "Finish your food, honey. You'll get a headache, thinking so hard you burn off the energy." Gail's metabolism was the seventh wonder of the world.

Leaning in, Gail kissed Holly fondly. "You are the best wife ever."

"I am," agreed Holly. "I am indeed. And so are you."

She'd been right about one thing years ago. Detective Gail Peck solving cases was a total turn on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to that weird drug case. The two gangs may come to blows. Will we end up with Anton Hill's old gang on top, or the rebuilt Three Rivers? And who are the brains behind Three Rivers?
> 
> Tune in next time (two weeks) for "A Good Shoot" (ominous...)
> 
> Oh, and no, Gail's still not 'over' her nightmares. If you read "Old Habits Die Hard" it's explained more there, but essentially the drugs Perik used did damage her brain a bit, not enough to not be a cop, but enough that those memories are locked in. Toss on the PTSD, and she's always going to have nightmares now and then. She's far, far, better off than she was at the beginning of OWtO, but it comes back from time to time. I read a lot about Ketamine and ACP, and that shit is nasty. He was dosing her multiple times, too, just from what we saw on the show.
> 
> Also it's mentioned on OHDH that Holly's being treated for depression. It's very common for women, as they age, to suffer from it. I do. I've been treated for it for years. I hesitate to say Holly is 'fine' but it's really more manageable at this point. She and Gail take care of each other and themselves as best they can.


	5. 01.05 A Good Shoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A domestic case goes horribly wrong and has unforeseen consequences for Vivian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the much awaited for 'will Vivian ever remember more about the Greens?' chapter. And yes, she will. I'm not even going to screw with you and build up too much. We're going to dive in head first and deal with the fall out.

The night before it happened, Olivia had called to explain why she'd run off. It was a relief to finally have that answer, after two whole months of wondering what the hell Vivian had done to piss off the planet. And in a lot of ways she didn't mind knowing they weren't getting back together. It felt like a relief to have that settled on both ends. To hear Liv say she was sorry, but she shouldn't have kissed her, it was wrong and inappropriate, was kinda painful though. Because while that was true and Vivian totally agreed, hearing it was weird.

But the running off... Having the girl you'd once liked, like _really_ liked, kiss and then run off was confusing enough. Liv's apologies had helped, and more it had helped Vivian to realize that she didn't have those kinds of feelings for her former bff. Not anymore at least. Gail had been right, too, saying that getting back with exes was a great way to stomp all over your own heart.

Even so. When Liv said that she was seeing someone and _that_ was why it was wrong, well it hurt. That was a little bit of an unexpected emotion. Vivian felt like she was gutted to hear not only had Liv moved on, but she was actually with someone when she'd kissed Viv. It was fair, though. It had been a long time. Finding out you were the other woman was not fun, though she didn't really feel like she had much right to be too vocally upset about it, since she hadn't kissed Liv.

At least not until Olivia said it was with a _guy_.

Why that was so exceptionally painful, Vivian wasn't quite sure. Holly had once mentioned the fact that most of her exes were straight after breaking up with her. Gail had joked all her exes were still into women, but they were also all men. But then there was Liv and a guy and it was stupid. Liv had dated guys before. And girls after, as it turned out, but this one, this person who she'd been dating just had to be a guy. And it hurt like hell.

Her ex slash best friend had kissed her because the boy she was in love with had been noncommittal about moving to San Diego. And Olivia, scared and thrown off her game, looked for a moment of comfort in her friend. Which was wrong because it hurt Glenn. Not Vivian. Glenn. She already hated him. A lot. Glenn could die in a fire right now.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Not only had Olivia chosen someone else, which was totally fair, but she'd picked them and taken their side and cared more about him than her in this moment. On the one hand, it was totally fair. On the other, Viv and Liv had been best friends for over a decade before things had gotten stupid. Now she was just anyone else. And all the protestations that Liv had needed a friend before she moved to the States felt forced. Olivia had Glenn. Vivian was thrown aside.

Confused and hurt, Vivian called Matty to unburden herself, only to have serious advice given to her. Walk away from it. Olivia was clearly not worrying about Vivian's feelings, so Vivian should protect herself and stay out of it. Good advice, but it didn't make her feel much better. Sometimes Matty was great for sympathy. Apparently asking for sympathy the week before Matty's big costuming project was due was a bad idea.

That made for a fucking awesome night with very little sleep. It made for a subsequent morning avoiding her moms, since either one would know in a second that the diagnosis was drama. Thankfully, Holly was called in early on a case and Gail always slept in on those days. Without Holly to drag her out of bed, Gail could be insanely lazy. Vivian timed her escape for before Gail's alarms (plural) went off, going to the division's gym and trying to bike her feelings out.

She was getting dressed at her locker when Lara and Jenny came in with cookies. Jenny smiled, holding up a Tupperware box, "Peck! Snickerdoodles?"

"Oh you have no idea," muttered Vivian, pulling her black t-shirt on. "Today's going to be an 'eat my feelings' kinda day." She snagged a cookie and bit into it, sighing happily. They were good.

"Yikes, the Peck has feelings," joked Lara. "You're here early, too."

Vivian sighed. "Didn't feel like getting an earful from my folks."

Opening her own locker, Lara looked surprised. "But I met your mom, she's nice."

That was still funny. For wherever reason, the fact that Vivian was a Peck and the daughter of Detective Inspector Peck hadn't filtered through the rookies. It helped that there were two other Pecks in their class, though one was at Twenty-Seven and the other was way the hell across town. Still, Vivian and Gail were making bets on when they'd figure it out. It was enough that they knew Viv was in the chain of Pecks. Not even Jenny, who knew who the Pecks were, connected Vivian to Gail. Sometimes it helped, not looking like her mothers.

"You met my mom? When was that?" She was tempted to ask which mom, since neither tended to hang out on the main floor of Fifteen anymore, but Lara cheerfully went on.

"Dr. Stewart was at the murder I caught last month," explained Lara with a bit of pride. "The skull bashing? She did my autopsy. Isn't she your mom?"

Vivian smiled. "Oh right." That night, after Lara's first autopsy, Holly had told her how Lara passed out. "I heard about that. You passed out."

Predictably, Lara looked worried. "She told? Wait, so she knows Christian! Is that why she came to Fite Nite?"

Vivian nodded, a little confused. "Uh, yes. Actually ... God, you know, I _don_ _'_ _t_ want to know how I came up as a topic of conversation." Vivian took another cookie.

Of course Lara went on. Again. She always did that when Vivian didn't want her to. Lara was just ... She was really friendly and that was weird. "McNally was talking to her about how the sergeant's always on your case to know stuff."

Oh. That made a little sense. "Well. Yeah," grumbled Vivian, pulling on her uniform shirt and tucking it in.

"Your _mom_ is the chief medical examiner?" Jenny looked surprised. "That's so cool! Why didn't you do that?"

"I don't like the smells that much." Vivian grabbed her belt and tugged it on. Taking two more cookies, Vivian went to get her gun and some coffee before parade. Naturally she was with Nick, which was fine. He was so accustomed to her mother's mercurial moods - to _Gail_ _'_ _s_ moods - that he took her being quiet in stride.

She was not as talented as Gail at paying attention to everything at once. Gail could memorize license plates at speed while driving and singing along with the radio and talking to Holly. Vivian could do it while driving or talking, but not both. Singing only if she knew the song really well. That made it hard to work with Nick's quizzes about cars and traffic and alternate routes while she was mulling over the fact that none of her fellow rookies had connected her to the Pecks, and Olivia was moving to San Diego with some guy in her chemistry class.

And frankly that meant she probably wasn't in the right frame of mind when they pulled up the domestic. It sure as hell meant that when the man grabbed his hunting revolver and started aiming at his wife, Vivian freaked a little.

All of the sudden, her brain kicked over into a weird, hyper awareness. The world took on a weird sharpness, like someone was screwing with her photo filters. Things were way too crisp as she and Nick drew their guns and started to shout for the man to stand down.

It was his surprising move, his sad look at Vivian, that hit her hard. He moved in slow motion, swinging the revolver, its long barrel, up to under his chin and firing up through his own head, eyes locked on her. The look froze her, but the smell was what really did her in. She'd smelled guns a hundred times before. She _liked_ using guns, shooting them with Gail and Elaine was a fun after-school treat when she'd been a teenager. But behind the sound of the gunfire, the wet, sickening noise of a bullet crushing bone and body, the smell of the gun and the blood and brain...

Vivian remembered.

Reeling, she didn't have a memory holstering her gun, but she knew she did it. She didn't remember leaving the room. She didn't even remember puking. What she remembered was looking up at her father who had the same, sad, look in his eyes, and who pulled the trigger. She remembered the look in his eyes and the way his long arms swung the shotgun, tucking it under his chin. She remembered the sound of the shotgun blast, the sound of blood and brain and bits of bone splattering on the ceiling and the wall behind him. No. No the mirror on the wall behind him.

How could she forget that?

How did she, at just six, block out seeing her father blow his own head off with the shotgun?

And then she was sitting on the bumper of the squad, with Nick hovering. He had his hand between her shoulders and was telling her to breathe slowly. She looked up at him, confused. Why was he whispering? She could barely hear him and had to read his lips, which she really wasn't very good at anyway.

Finally someone else's words cut in. "What happened?" That voice was familiar, even though it came from a million miles away. Traci. Why was Aunt Traci there? Oh right. Of course. It was a homicide.

"The husband shot himself right in front of us," explained Nick. He sounded like he was down a tunnel. They kept talking about the case as the world came back into auditory and visual focus.

Vivian swallowed and asked, "Why does my mouth taste like crap?"

"Hey," said Nick, gently. "You tossed your cookies."

"Oh." Vivian blinked a few times. "Those were good cookies." She straightened up slowly and startled when Nick cupped her face to look at it. "God, stop that," she growled, shoving him away.

Sounding relieved, Nick said, "She's back." He handed her a bottle of water.

Traci eyed Vivian quietly. "I need to get your statement, Viv," she said calmly. Calm was good and Vivian nodded. They went over the facts careful, just getting a statement. It was just like they had rehearsed in class, or like Vivian had practiced at the dinner table with Gail or Elaine. Holly hated when they did it, and chastised them, but to Vivian it was fun.

Remember what was seen. Remember what wasn't seen. Learn how to put the pieces together. She'd wanted to learn how Gail did it after they'd seen a car accident heading up to the cabin. Everything had been a jumble to her eyes, and when she'd told the police office that, he'd nodded. Holly's version of the events weren't much better. But Gail, oh man, she'd just known everything. Make and model and license plates, driver wearing a hat, estimated speeds...

It had blown Vivian's mind that her goofy, childish, impish, parent was _brilliant_. She'd never seen it before, except in Gail's weird talent at languages. That police work had been amazing, and Vivian demanded Gail explain how she did it. Really, that was the first glimpse Vivian had into what it actually meant to be a Peck at work. She thought she'd understood with the gun training and the cases that room Gail away at all hours, but the memory skills, the whole awareness, was incredible.

Of course, Elaine had pointed out that Gail had a phenomenal memory anyway, and just needed the push. Holly too had an amazing memory. She had to for her job. But it was Gail's application that drew in Vivian. Yeah. Vivian knew she'd wanted to be a cop for a long time.

And she knew it still.

Taking the lessons from Gail and Elaine and Holly, she calmed herself and did what she'd been practicing for years. Remembering. Let the back brain fill in the facts and colors, let the front brain sketch the borders.

Traci's partner was impressed at least.

While Vivian had driven them to the scene, Nick drove them back to the station in silence. To her surprise, Gail was downstairs, waiting at the sally port. "What the hell, Nicholas?" She snapped at the man, thumping her fist into his chest. Without waiting for an answer, Gail shoved past him and held Vivian's chin, studying her face.

"Please, stop," grimaced Vivian.

"Shush." Gail turned her face side to side. "Are you alright?"

She started to nod, but paused. Then she shook her head. "No."

And right there, in the middle of the sally port, Gail pulled her in for a hug. It was a real Gail kind of hug, the sort that made a person feel safe and protected, like she'd make sure no one hurt you. It was not something Vivian expected at all from her mother. Gail rarely hugged in general, and never in public. This was the hug she got at home for being brave enough to help Matty when he was being beat up. This was the hug when she'd gotten accepted into the Academy. This was the hug when she was home from that disastrous trip to Montréal. This was the hug that made you safe.

"Okay," whispered Gail, holding her tight. "It's okay. You did fine."

Vivian sniffled a laugh. "I puked." She didn't want to cry, but she knew if she did, it would be safe.

"That's okay," insisted Gail. "It's totally okay."

"Okay," nodded Vivian, stepping back. "I'm okay."

Gail frowned. "You don't have to be. Don't get all Super Peck on me, Monkey."

"Jesus, Mom." But she laughed. It made her feel a little better. What she really wanted was to talk to Olivia, the only person she'd really unburdened herself to before. But that ship had sailed. "Thanks," she added.

"I'm working right upstairs and I have zero problems using nepotism." The simplicity of a threat Gail would never make good on helped more than Vivian would have thought. She smiled at her mother and nodded. This was okay. Gail was telling her this was normal.

There was no nepotism involved with Vivian (and Nick) being benched the rest of the day. There was a little parental fawning over her when she got home, but nothing really out of the ordinary. Oh they did fuss, Holly picking up cupcakes and Gail cooking one of Vivian's favorite meals. But still, they took her quiet attitude in stride, not pushing her about anything.

That was how they always were. They cared, they were close, and they let her go when she needed to be free. After dinner, Gail and Vivian played the new Mario Kart while Holly worked on an article. It was normal life for them until Gail finally decided to talk about the day.

"Holding up okay?"

"Yeah," nodded Vivian. "I froze."

Gail smiled. "My first real case, we were going after some guy named Snakeface. He jumped out of a window right by me, and I just watched him run off."

"Why did you do that?" She remembered the story. She knew it by heart. But sometimes she wanted to hear it again. To feel normal.

"Noelle told me to stay where I was. And I choked." Gail laughed. "God, I was so not ready."

Vivian laughed a little as well, feeling better for being reminded that even her mother had screwed up at her age. She chewed her lip. "Mom, have you ever shot anyone?"

Gail shook her head. "At. A couple times. Never hit anyone. Never killed anyone. Dov and Nick have, though. So has Andy." When Vivian didn't say anything more, Gail added, "Most cops go their whole lives without shooting or hurting anyone."

Nodding again, Vivian concentrated on the game for a moment. "Can I ask something ... Um ... Not happy?" She caught Gail's raised eyebrows out of the corner of her eye, but her mother said that it was always okay to ask about anything. "Okay. I know, ah, I know you still have flashbacks. To- to Perik." After a moment, Gail nodded slowly. "Do certain things ... Do you, like, smell things and it hits you?"

The game froze and Vivian blinked. Gail put down her controller. "Yes," she replied carefully. "Sometimes it's a sound. Right before I met your granddad, I heard someone with shoes like Perik had. Set me off for days."

Vivian put her controller down and looked at her mother. "Do you remember _new_ things?"

"Not so much anymore. Most of the time it's remembering the same things." The look Gail was giving her was knowing. This was a place Gail had been before and she could see it in Vivian now. With a sigh, Vivian nodded. "You don't have to talk about it," Gail said gently.

"Does it help you?"

"Sometimes." Her mother looked ruefully over at Holly. "Sometimes I just get more mad." They both knew Gail's situation was different. Vivian just had memories. Gail had actual damage preventing her from forgetting.

Vivian rubbed her face and lay down on the couch. "I remembered what happened. When I was... When they... I remember." The house felt suddenly silent. Not even Holly's typing and paper turning was heard. Vivian realized her other mother was listening to them talk. "I ... Remember. The guy, today, he had a hunting revolver. But my dad... He had a shotgun. And- I came in the kitchen. I didn't have a key. But Kimmy told me about the hidden key in the backyard. It was under the fake rock by the steps. So when Mary's mom dropped me off, I went to the back door like it was normal. It _was_ normal."

That was the first time Vivian had remembered her friend's name. Mary. Mary Rogers. She'd had the best birthday party of their class, and everyone had gotten to sleep over in the living room. The cake had been strawberry, which Vivian thought was gross, but Mary loved it. Mary was the only person she'd ever known who honestly liked Neapolitan ice cream. Absently, she wondered where Mary was now... Did she remember strange Vivian Green?

Neither mother said anything. They were patient and Gail was never patient. Rarely patient. Often patient with Vivian and Holly when they were working through drama. Everyone else could fuck themselves. "He was in the living room. The- there were doorways from the back. Left was the dining room. Straight ahead was the living room. And he was standing there. With the shotgun in his hands." Vivian swallowed. "I wasn't afraid. I was confused. I didn't understand why my dad was holding the gun. And ... He turned it. Not at me. He looked at me and shot himself."

Vivian closed her eyes. There was the smell again. Guns, but not the clean smell of Gail's well cared for and treasured weapons. Blood. Brain matter. It was the combination. She fell silent, not having anymore words for it all or how it felt.

"Sit up," instructed Gail, nudging Vivian up and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. That was all Gail said. They just sat there, Vivian leaning against her mom who was gently stroking her hair. After a little while, Holly snuck in next to Gail, but she too said nothing.

She was held by her moms and it was okay for a while. It was okay to be scared and to feel broken. They were there for her. Vivian sniffled, once, and then the tears started. She pressed her face into Gail's shoulder and just gave into the tears she should have shed 18 years ago. The agony and horror threatened to smother her, and all Vivian could do was sob.

There was no way to know why her father left her alive. There was no way to ever understand what thought went through his head before the shotgun fired. All she could ever know was that he killed them all. He looked at her, and then he killed himself. He left her. It was like Gail said at her father's funeral. And they were left standing.

Gail's arm held her close. That protecting, comforting, grip around her shoulders gave her a rock to cling to in her storm. Another hand touched her back, gently rubbing before Holly wrapped her arms around them both and shielded her. It was their way to let her know that, yes, Vivian's father had left her alone, but they were here.

She wasn't alone now.

* * *

After Vivian had finally gone to bed, with the help of two sleeping pills, Gail popped open the safe and pulled out her copy of the files. Holly closed the office door quietly. "Do you have to?"

"No," admitted Gail. "But it's the right thing to do." Because if it ever came up again, if it ever opened up again, they'd need to know. She didn't want to look at them ever again, but she'd kept them handy just in case a day like this happened.

"Let me write it down. Your handwriting is chicken scratch."

Gail pushed the legal pad over. "Says the lesbian doctor. You should really have worse handwriting."

Her wife smiled and wrote quickly. "Don't distract me, Peck."

Letting Holly write, Gail read over the case notes of the death of the Green family. At this point, she should have memorized every detail but she hadn't. Gail had actually never made it through the whole thing in one sitting. It hurt too much. Looking at it today, Gail spotted the parts Viv had told them today, and the parts she didn't. Like Vivian had called 911, which she still didn't seem to remember, and she'd had a key on her. Everyone had assumed she just had the key normally, and she'd let the EMTs in through the unlocked front door.

Gail flipped through the photos and found the one of the back yard, where the door was open, and there was a little rock to the side of the stairs. Just like Vivian had described. And net there was a photo of Vivian, pointing at something inside the house. "God," sighed Gail, putting the photo down.

Her wife looked up and sighed at the photo. "Oh." Holly picked up the photo and ran her thumb over it. "She was so young."

In the photo, Vivian was young and small. Undersized even. She was a little hollow too. A look in her young eyes that no kid should ever have to wear. Gail pushed over a second photo. "This was the photo that made me think we had to bring her home."

Holly picked up the photo. It was the one where Vivian was alone, sitting on the EMTs gurney, holding her backpack filled with clothes. She was so stone faced, so hurt, so jaded already. Gail saw that wise, sad, face and wanted to give it a place where she could grow up and be safe. "I'm glad Anne called us," Holly said softly. "Here."

Picking up the legal pad, Gail made a few minor corrections in comments at the bottom. Then she dated the paper and signed it next to Holly's scrawl. It wasn't going to hold up in a court of law, but they had it and if necessary, they would be able to use it. "Thank you." It felt weird to say, but it was how Gail felt at the moment.

"Do you think the case will ever be reopened?"

"By whom? Her grandparents are dead. Her aunt made it clear she never wanted to be reminded of the Greens."

That was the one thing Vivian still didn't know. They'd known for years about her paternal aunt, the sister to Vivian's suicidal father. When Vivian went into the system, the aunt signed a document excising herself from any obligation, and specifying that she would never be contacted. Not even to save her own life. And in turn, they were told to keep the confidence. Gail felt it was bullshit, but her lawyer said it was binding enough not to risk. Which meant they knew Vivian had an aunt, and they were legally prohibited from mentioning it. Gail hated that.

Holly frowned and echoed Gail's thoughts. "God those grandparents..."

How evil, how hard must they have been to make their children act that way? The information Oliver and Steve had dug up on the child abuse was galling. Broken bones, cigarette burns, black eyes. And on top of that, Vivian's father with his mental issues. "I'm kind of sad her maternal grandparents died before she was born," muttered Gail. "But then we wouldn't have her."

They had sounded like decent people. The maternal grandmother had passed away at 30, having bumped her head getting out of a bus. Gail had a copy of that report as well, tucked in the back of this one. The poor woman had slipped getting off a bus in winter, bumped her head on a step, and died less than 48 hours later of a subdural hematoma. The grandfather died of pancreatic cancer between the births of Kimmy and Viv.

"A lot of bad luck." Holly put her hand over Gail's and moved her chair to look at the photos better. "If they'd been alive, would any of this have happened? Or would it have been worse, more hidden, and still happened?"

"Would we have had her? Would we have been needed? It's like... All the bad things brought us all to the right place together." Gail pushed her hands through her hair, slicking it back. "Is that good or bad?"

Unable to answer that, Holly leaned against Gail and shook her head. They flipped through the ones of the house until they saw Vivian's father, dead on the floor. "It matches what she said. Why didn't they notice that?"

"They did," allowed Gail. "Description says he was facing the back door. They just thought it happened before she got home."

Holly sighed. "She didn't step in the blood or even try to check if her father was alive ... I can't tell if Vivian was terrified or a genius."

"Well. She's our kid. So both." Gail laced her fingers with Holly.

They'd looked at the photos a thousand times, mostly before Vivian had moved in. Gail had memorized the house's layout, the way the sister, Kimberly, was curled up in her bed, one leg sticking out, almost how Vivian still slept. She hadn't stirred in bed, probably sleeping through her father coming in and killing her. The way Vivian's mother was tangled in the sheets, hinting that she was the second death and tried to get up. Of course, Kimberly, Kimmy as Vivian referred to her, could have slept through things. Children had that weird ability.

No one heard the shots. Or no one thought anything was weird about them. Probably the former. Three blasts from a shotgun. Difficult to pull off the last one, but Vivian's father had her long limbs. There was the mystery of Vivian's height, solved in part. Gail couldn't remember looking at it like that before. He'd blown his own head off. Of course Vivian hadn't checked her father's pulse. His brain was splattered against the wall, the couch, and a mirror.

The number of times Gail had seen death was rather high. It came with the all her years as a cop, Gail had seen people die before her eyes. More or less. Jerry was different. But he wasn't the only death (or near death) that weighed on her soul. The ghost of Sophie's mother still haunted her. Some days, her father did.

Collecting the photos, Holly closed the folder and pushed it away. "Put them away, honey. I don't want to see them tonight."

Gail tilted her head. There was something in Holly's tone that reminded Gail of her wife's sordid past. "Thinking about Luke and Andrea?" Her wife nodded glumly. Because Holly too had seen someone die in front of her. Twice. But Luke by a gun, and now they knew Holly shared that with their daughter. Gail slid the folder away from the doctor and put a hand on Holly's, comfortingly.

"It's not that I _don_ _'_ _t_ think about it," said Holly. "I always remember it. I just don't think about it all the time. It was… It was a thing that happened. And someone died. And I guess my brain compartmentalized it."

The unspoken 'just like Vivian' hung in the air. "You were an adult." She laced her fingers through Holly's and sighed. "It's not like it's a thing that gets easier. It just … it is what it is. It made us who we are."

"Death," said Holly. "Death is very final."

"It is." Gail kissed their laced knuckles and leaned over to put the file back in the safe. One day they'd show it all to their daughter. Not today. "You know she can probably crack the safe."

Holly laughed softly. A puff of air, barely a sound made as she stood up. "She won't. Somehow we raised a really good kid."

Gail locked the safe and used it for leverage to stand up. "I'm old, Holly," she complained.

A pair of hands took hold of her waist and drew Gail in close to kiss the side of her neck. "Every day you get older with me is another day closer to spending the majority of your life with me."

Smiling, Gail tilted her head. "When I say that it sounds romantic, right?" Her wife made a hmmm noise and kissed her again. "When you say it, it sounds all clinical and mathematical."

Smothering a laugh in Gail's shoulder, Holly complained, "We can't all be gifted at rhetoric, Gail."

"Ironic for someone who hates public speaking," said Gail with a smile. But that fear was long gone now. Now she was so inured to it, it was normal.

"Hated. Past tense." Holly kept one arm around Gail's waist and led her to the door. "Go shower. I want to make sure the kid is really out."

"Uh, fact check, Doc. You gave her those sleeping pills. She's down for the count." None of them particularly liked sleeping pills. They gave Gail a nasty idiosyncratic reaction that resulted in sleeping without actually getting any real rest. Holly took them once in a great while when she couldn't sleep after long cases. Vivian had taken them once or twice after managing to make herself so tired she couldn't sleep at all.

That night, Vivian had drooped but been unable to cross the line into actual sleep. When Holly had suggested she take something, Vivian only asked if Gail thought she'd have nightmares. Which was probably why Holly wanted to check in on her.

As Holly creeped into their daughter's bedroom,Gail lingered by the master bedroom, watching. A moment later, Holly was back out and smiling. "Sleeping like the angel none of us are."

"Thank god she can sleep on that stuff," Gail said, not really thinking about it. And then she winced. She'd been trying not to bring up the last month of her own insomnia. Nightmares. Ever since that one stupid night where they'd thought Vivian was out all night.

Holly stopped by the door and gently cupped Gail's cheek. "I wish you could too," whispered the brunette, and she kissed Gail softly.

Frowning slightly, Gail looked at her wife. "That's it?"

"I'm not the one who doesn't get any sleep, honey." Holly steered Gail into their bedroom with a hand on the small of her back. "I just... I hate that this still happens to you. I hate we can't make you feel better."

It had been a while, admittedly. A long while. "I'm sorry," muttered Gail.

The hand on her back tensed. "Honey. It's not your fault. And it's not Viv's and I know it's not mine. It's what it is, and it's what it will be. I am _still_ here. I still love you."

That was their thing. It was a good thing. It did help to hear the words. Because she didn't always feel like someone worthy of love. Even now, twenty years of Holly sticking around and fighting for each other, the nagging doubts of the first half of her life lingered. "Fifty-six," she said, abruptly.

"Fifty-six?"

"When I am fifty-six, you will have been in my life for half of it," mused Gail. "From then, every day I spend with you will mean more time with you than without you."

Holly breathed out an 'oh' softly and pressed herself against Gail's back. "You're right. When you say it, it sounds more romantic," her wife decided, wrapping her arms around Gail and hugging her close.

Gail covered Holly's hands with her own. "I'm very romantic."

"Think you can sleep?"

Weirdly, Gail did. "I'm here. I'm safe with you. Our kid is safe with us. She's not alone."

"I meant more the part where you worry about her all the time."

"Well, I just have to get used to letting her go."

Holly's breath was warm on her neck. "Do I make that look easy? Letting her spread her wings?"

Ew. That was a terrible way to ask. "Two things. One, never say it like that again. You sound like a Hallmark card."

The doctor laughed. "Noted. What's two?"

Item the second was harder to say. But after decades, she knew she had to say what she thought, and that the honesty would be okay here. "Two, yes. You do."

Her wife was quiet for a long minute. "It's not," said Holly quietly. "Remember when I taught her how to ride that bike?" Gail did. "Letting go of the seat to let her take off down the sidewalk? Scared me to death. Every time she ran off to play soccer or hockey, I was sure she was going to get crushed by all those kids. She was so _small_."

Gail smiled. "Especially compared to that brute." There had been a very large boy on one of the opposing teams. Gail had been sure he wasn't actually eight.

"Oh, God. He was a tank!" But Holly laughed a little. "But that all scared me, honey. I hate it. But..."

When Holly trailed off and stayed quiet for a long time, Gail tugged her hands to loosen them and turned around. "But?"

"But." Holly looked very sincere and her eyes were wet. "But that look on her face. The day she got into the Academy? That look is so, so wonderful, Gail. She gets so damn happy. I would do _anything_ to see her like that."

Gail remembered the look. She'd looked like that again the day she graduated. They had the photo framed. It hung on the wall next to Gail's more dour graduation shot. The photos were staged similarly: the graduate in the middle, holding the diploma, her parents on either side. Where young Gail's face was solemn and serious, Vivian's smile was wide and delighted. It was like everything the young woman had wanted was finally becoming real.

"Kind of makes Elaine make more sense," replied Gail. She was confident that Holly would understand what she meant.

The other woman nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Guilt and fear. Everything is guilt and fear."

Kissing Holly, Gail closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to her wife's. "We're doing good. Come on. Shower. Sleep."

They could keep on keeping on and it would be alright.

* * *

Like it or not, Vivian had the next day off. It was what it was. Even though the sleeping pills had helped her get a good night's sleep, she still felt like crap. Like she'd been run over. Waking up from a night on the pills made her body feel rested. Her brain was rested, too. She just felt groggy and sore all over. Maybe it was unrelated to the pills, maybe it was just her body's reaction to the mental trauma. Maybe it was the collective angst and stress of the history of it all.

Gail worked from home, which was annoying, but Vivian did understand why. Being alone would probably not be great. Still, Vivian slept away most of the day, migrating from her bed to the couch in the living room, and finally the couch in the office. At last her mind felt clear and not pained. It was as if the blast had blown out the cobwebs and allowed her to finally see her past clearly. Vivian's mind was unlocking.

More memories had filtered in since the night. She remembered a road trip. She remembered Kimmy learning to ride a bicycle. She remembered the fights. The sound of a hand hitting skin, her mother's skin, finally sorted itself out. Vivian was not surprised to remember her father hit her mother. But she still had no memory of a hand touching her. Not for a hug or a spanking.

The only recollection Vivian had of a hug was from her sister. At least until she met Gail and Holly. Even the social workers and the first foster homes had allowed her to remain standoffish. And Gail ... Gail hugged Holly and let Holly hug her, but rarely anyone else. It somehow clicked in Vivian's head that those hugs were safe.

She remembered very clearly the first time she'd hugged Holly. It was at the hospital, when the doctor had finally been released from her space tent of isolation. While Vivian couldn't remember why she'd felt it was so important to hug Holly just then, she remembered that feeling so well. Suddenly she got why people hugged. It was to express a feeling they had no words for. It was to say they loved each other. And Holly, Holly was so good at letting her hugs say so many things.

As she lay there, finally relaxing and feeling more together than she had in years, Vivian listened to Gail type. Gail, the storm, was safe. Gail always protected everyone, from her family to the city. A storm and a shield. It was safe to be broken and to heal with Gail there. Vivian put her tablet down and concentrated on the noise. She could tell from the keystrokes that Gail was excited about the case. "Do I get to know about the case you're working on?"

"Gangs," replied Gail. "We had a bit of a breakthrough on the Three Rivers case."

Now she was awake. "Seriously?"

Gail waved a hand at a box beside her desk. "We didn't buy comics for ourselves, junior."

That was tacit permission. Vivian got up and opened the box. "Who's Tintin?" She glanced at her mother, who was covering her face with her hands. Whoops. She'd made Gail feel old.

"Read _The Secret of the Unicorn_ , will you?"

And that was a weird request. Vivian found that issue and settled back on the couch, reading it slowly. It was a cute story, complicated and yet understandable. After reading it once, she flipped back to the beginning and read it again. She studied every panel, every word, and thought about every meaning. "This was written by a Frenchie," she told her mother.

"Belgian," corrected Gail.

"So. Even stupider hats?" Vivian peeked at her mother and caught the smirk.

"Keep reading."

Right. Vivian studied the massive panel of the sword fight on the desk, which was one of those things that had people dying without a lot of blood. But there really were a lot of layers to the page. But it didn't give her any hints. Then she got to the end and blinked. "Are you shitting me? Three papers? Three brothers?"

Gail didn't look up. "Back when you were a baby, before your mom and I were dating, Oliver and I arrested this guy, Bobby Zanaro. He was one of the lieutenants for Three Rivers."

"He has two brothers?"

"He has sisters. But he also has two uncles. Your uncle is hunting them down now."

Vivian re-read the poem. She'd gone for runs once a week out by the Don Rivers. Eagles and crosses. That could be a clue. The run was by the science center. Not a lot of eagles. Crosses... Churches? Vivian got up and went to her room for a notebook, coming back to scribble ideas. After a bit, she felt eyes watching her. Gail was watching her. And smiling. "What?"

Gail shook her head. "As your superior, and head of OC, I need to remind you that if you go haring off to investigate this yourself, you could end up in a mess of trouble."

She knew that. "And as my mom?"

"If you go throw yourself into the middle of this shit, I will lock you in your room until you're thirty." Before Vivian could point out that both ways meant she was in trouble, Gail added. "But both ways, I'm proud you're thinking this all out. It's good copping."

Vivian wrinkled her nose. "Policing." Her watch buzzed a reminder that she had an appointment with her therapist. Like Gail's therapist, a call to say she'd seen a shooting and needed be squeezed in had amazing results.

"Potato, tomato," smiled Gail. "Do you want a ride?"

Shaking her head, Vivian put the comics. "No. But can I take your car?"

"Sure. We can ditch tonight if you'd like, or just you."

"Maybe."

That night was Wednesday, which meant Holly usually dragged them all to the batting cages. In talking to her doctor, she mentioned she wasn't sure if she wanted to go. The weight of what she'd learned and become felt oppressive. He didn't offer answers, which was kind of why Vivian liked him. He let her dump everything and then gave her suggestions on how to cope.

When Vivian returned from her appointment, Holly was already home and willing to skip. But Vivian insisted on a moment of normality in their crazy life, which seemed to make Holly smile more. Even Gail chipped in and did her best to hit the ball well. Once in a great while, Gail had a good day at the cages. That night was a good day and it was Gail who won the standing bet of hitting the home run sign first.

In her usual goofball self, Gail did a dance to celebrate her awesomeness. Which worked until she slipped and fell on her ass. Then they all laughed. That was, actually, Vivian's favorite thing about her mothers. They were so much fun and they just enjoyed life. And they had never once made Vivian feel like an interloper. She was family from day one.

The next day, Vivian had an appointment with the division therapist.

It wasn't special treatment and she knew it. Everyone had to do it after seeing someone die, or worse, killing someone. Dov was more of a hardass about it than other sergeants, as was their inspector, Noelle. With good reason, Vivian knew, but still it wasn't like she didn't know what was going on. So while Vivian seethed a little about having to go, she knew Nick was going too, and that was what it was.

Of course, it was possible that it was special treatment that Vivian got the first available appointment. It was early enough in the morning that she could even go to work after lunch, if she was cleared. And everyone naturally thought she would be cleared right away.

Predictably the therapist knew who the Pecks were, identifying Viv's parentage quickly, and asking very simple questions. Vivian had been going to therapy most of her life. For almost 20 years she'd talked to someone at least once a month about her feelings. At first it had been court mandated, but even after the adoption, Gail and Holly kept her going. They all went to therapy after all. Around the time she started college, Gail had made noises that it wasn't something Vivian had to do anymore. It still felt like something she should do, so Vivian kept going.

That also meant Vivian knew how to talk around a problem and make herself sound perfectly sane. She wasn't terribly worried about the evasion, since she had seen her own therapist already. When she got out, Steve was waiting with a lunch bag and a smirk. Clearly her family expected her to be cleared. "She got tagged for a triple out by the mayor."

"Thanks," mumbled Vivian, embarrassed.

"Look, I know. Okay? So you need anything at all, call me. You can take today off."

"I really just want to get back to normal," Vivian told her uncle.

"Yeah. I get that." There was no hug in the hallway of the division, just a squeeze of her shoulder and Steve left Vivian with her lunch, promising that Gail had made it. She eased into the break room, empty, and started to slowly pick her way through one of her favorite lunches. Falafel. Rich and Lara sat on either side of her.

"Hey," grinned Rich. She and Christian still found him thick as a plank. Maybe he should have gone boxing. Knock sense into him.

"Hi, Rich." She picked at the food. Gail never gave a person food without a reason. She probably needed the energy. Sticking her hand in the bag, she pulled out a box of mini Smarties and grinned. Yeah, that was her mom alright.

Lara cleared her throat. "You okay?"

That was the first time anyone from her class had asked her how she felt about it. "Yeah."

Lara glanced at Rich. "I mean... That's terrifying."

Vivian shook her head, "Look, Lara, I appreciate it, but can I not talk about it right now?"

And Lara totally caught the clue. "No, totally. I get it. If you, uh. If you need to talk, though." They both looked at Rich, balefully.

"I just wanna know why the Detective Inspector from _Guns and Gangs_ was checking on you!" He held his hands up.

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you're an idiot," she snapped, and bit into her sandwich. Pita, sliced falafel, hummus, tahini, with salad and no tomatoes. She'd not eaten a tomato at home ever. Sometimes when they went out she'd have them, but she'd learned not to get the juice near Gail after seeing the back of her hand break out in hives one dinner.

Rich looked confused while Lara started to smirk. "This is why no one likes you, Peck," he muttered. "You get favoritism and cronyism and all that shit. No one else gets a day off after a bad day—"

"Shut up," snapped Christian, sitting down next to Vivian. "You're an idiot."

"Said that," Vivian grumbled.

Lara gestured at Vivian. "This is Vivian _Peck_ you moron. And you're asking why Detective Inspector _Peck_ is checking on her? Seriously? How the hell did you pass the exams?"

Chiming in, Christian added, "And we _all_ have to take a day off and talk to psych after crap like that. They made Collins do it too."

"There are, like, a brazillion Pecks in Toronto," snarled Rich. "That one looked nothing like her!"

"So?" Lara scowled. "She's allowed to have cousins."

"He's my uncle," sighed Vivian, picking at her fries.

The group fell silent. "Wait, seriously?" Lara looked surprised.

"It's not cronyism either, Rich. My mom asked him to drop off lunch because she's busy on a ... Thing." Vivian knew what case it was, too.

"Your mom makes you lunch," sneered Rich.

"Sometimes. She also does my laundry." Vivian studied his face. Fuck it. "I live at home with my parents, Rich. Who are Pecks. Yes, those Pecks. Got a problem?"

"Man, your mom cooks and cleans and married a cop? I bet she's some dowdy old lady-"

"You bought her a drink at Fite Night," drawled Lara. She continued while Rich looked lost. "Hold on. Steve Peck is your _uncle_ uncle?"

Nodding, Vivian sipped her soda. "He is. Taught me to do donuts in cruisers."

"But... His sister..." Ah. So Lara knew. When Vivian nodded, Lara fell silent again.

"I bought _your_ mom a drink?" Rich's hamster had not made the connection. That was okay and still a little funny.

Beside her, Christian frowned and took a french fry. "He did?"

"He did," smiled Vivian. "The other one. Stop stealing my food. I know we're friends, but we are not fry-friends."

Before Rich could argue, Lara shoved him. "Her mother is the chief medical examiner, you idiot. Dr. Stewart." As Rich looked flummoxed, Lara added, "But Steve Peck... I mean, he's cool. But he has a sister."

"I'd ask how you knew that, Volk, but I think I don't care." Vivian slid her food away from Christian. "And yes."

Lara eyed Christian. "For real?"

"S'true," confirmed Christian. "She used to babysit me when I was a baby, too."

"Under duress," Viv smiled, absently.

Lara waved her hands, "No way. You _and_ your moms?"

"Yeah." Vivian eyed the other woman. So what that she and her moms were all gay? It wasn't related. At least she didn't think it was. It was hard to tell on the inside. She was pretty sure it had nothing to do with them, since they'd just made sure she knew it was okay to love however she loved.

It was Rich who asked the obvious. "You have two moms?"

"I do," confirmed Vivian. God he was dense. "They've been married a million years." Nineteen was a million, right?

Rich started to turn a weird red hue. "Wait... So when I bought Dr. Stewart a drink at Fite Nite ... She's married to ... A woman?"

"Mom's too nice to be a jerk about it." Holly really was too nice to the kids. Gail had been amused as hell. "Just don't do it if Gail's around."

"Gail. Peck …" Now Rich paled. "Gail Peck. The head of Organized Crime?"

"Only three divisions." Vivian sighed. Gail often complained about being pressured to take it all over, but she wasn't interested. Yet. That might change, especially if Uncle Steve did actually retire.

For some reason, the idea of having been hitting on the wife of the head of Organized Crimes set Rich into a panic and he left he room, flustered and muttering about how he was a dead man. "Crap, V, we should have told him ages ago," Christian remarked.

"Where's the fun in that?" At times, Vivian knew she was Gail's daughter, through and through. Lara hit her arm. "Hey!"

"You shit. You didn't say _our_ Peck was your mom!"

"No one asked which ones I was directly related to," muttered Vivian.

Christian shook his head. "Think he'll tell?"

Given how Rich had been hitting on Holly, Viv suspected not. "Don't care either way," she sighed.

"I won't," said Lara, firmly. At Vivian's surprise, she explained, "You already have this massive amount of pressure from being a Peck. And then your mom and grandmom are like _the_ most famous women on the force in forever? Oh my god, and your aunt! Traci Peck is, like, my hero. She's _so_ cool! I read about how she stopped that serial rapist years ago!"

That was a million years ago. "I wasn't- I didn't know her then," muttered Vivian. Those cases, rape and child abuse, were ones her family never talked about. Adults being mean to adults were generally fair game, but those two topics were verboten.

Lara chewed her lip. "Can I ask...?"

"I was adopted," she supplied. And then she added dryly, "Which is why I actually have melanin as a Peck."

That made both Christian and Lara laugh. Christian smirked and leaned in, "Seriously, they're all vampires. What's up with that?"

"They _are_ vampires," she deadpanned. "They're cursed with eternal life. Two hundred years ago, a Peck died saving a gypsy witch. She brought him back to life and tasked him and his children with protecting the city-" she stopped when Christian shoved her shoulder and laughed.

Smiling, Vivian felt weirdly comfortable talking to them. Maybe Lara actually could be a friend. She seemed to pick up on Vivian's reluctance to talk about things before the adoption and just asked what it was like to grow up around the Division.

Friends. Huh.

* * *

One of the things you gave up, being married to a Peck, was the idea that nepotism was always a bad thing. There was no way she'd be able to avoid all Peck related cases, especially not now that her daughter was one as well, so Holly tried to be circumspect and open.

Like everyone knew the chief did at least one random autopsy a month. Holly quickly set that rule, refusing to exclude herself from the grunt work part of her career. Everyone got crappy autopsies. They were pulled pretty much at random, to boot. All Holly knew was that her name was on the docket for anything that had slipped in the last two days.

When she got to the morgue, she picked up the file and stared. The assistant on staff was nervous, and that was abnormal. "Is it really smelly?" Holly didn't mind the smells.

"No, ma'am. It's ... Hank Gorsky."

The name meant nothing to her. "Are any of the officers coming by?"

"Um. Just Officer Collins."

Nick? Holly's eyes hit the preliminary cause of death and she looked up. "Oh. This is from the shooting." She pushed her thumb between her eyes and sighed.

The assistant nodded. "Yes'm. We can... I can... Do you want to swap out? I have a stabbing from a mugging. It's the mugger, not the, er, muggee?"

"As interesting as that sounds, I'm fine," she smiled thinly. "Also it would be his intended victim. Muggee isn't a word." Patting the assistant's shoulder, Holly stepped into the autopsy room and started to kit up.

The door opened and Nick came in. "Hey..." He sounded surprised.

"My turn is my turn, Nick," she reminded him. "Where's your rookie?"

"Dov has her on desk duty the rest of the week. She didn't argue, so he's pretty sure it was the right call."

It probably was, mused the mother of a cop. The wife of a cop thought it was a bad idea. You should get back out there. Either way, Vivian's quiet acceptance would not last long. "She seem okay to you?"

"Yeah," nodded Nick, sitting down on a stool. "Doing most of that thing where she turtles up and won't tell me what she's thinking. How the hell is she so much like you two?"

Holly had expected that to be a comment about how Vivian was like Gail, not both of them. "Us?"

Nick nodded again. "Yeah, if it was just Gail, she'd snap at me for asking her any questions. But she's got a brain, like you. She thinks before she spouts out what she's going to say." Hesitating, Nick added, "Not that Gail's not smart, but she's ... She was really impulsive and angry at Viv's age. I get the feeling I'm seeing little you in there, tempering."

"I have a hard time seeing Gail as impulsive at twenty-three," smiled Holly, pulling her gloves on. Rookie Gail had been, as Gail described herself, scared to death of screwing up half the time. Angry, though, yes, Holly knew that Gail. Angry and prone to shoving people away before she got hurt. Impulsive never really sounded like her Gail though.

"She went out with me again." Okay. Nick had a point. "Anyway, I think Viv's okay. I'm keeping an eye on her."

"Just... Let her fail if she's going to, Nick. Let her learn." Her mother had told her that when she'd been fired as a teenager. Sometimes when you fall you hit the ground. Sometimes when you fall, sometimes when you fall, you fly. "Tell me about Mr. Gorsky here. What went on?"

Accepting the change in topic, Nick pulled out his notes. "We got the call about a domestic. Man shouting at his girlfriend. When we got there, Gorsky opened the door with the hunting revolver on the table."

Holly broke out a measuring tape, checking the arm length. "How long ... Why am I asking?" Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Holly looked at the criminologist's notes from the scene. Schienbaum was nothing if not meticulous. "Holy crap that's long." The barrel was incredibly long.

"Oh yeah, aren't they freaky? Can you believe people hunt deer with those?"

"I'm very glad Gail doesn't hunt," she muttered. Bringing the rifle up to the cabin had seemed silly for years. Then one winter a moose had taken out a car and was roaming the area. Holly had still felt it improbable that the moose would show up near them. And then the moose showed up right in their back yard. Gail had not shot it, or even at it. She'd waited on the balcony, on the phone with the local authorities, telling them where the moose was headed. But she said as it wasn't bothering her, she wasn't going to do anything about it, and they seemed fine.

Later on, when Holly asked why Gail hadn't shot the moose, she said the most interesting thing. Gail had pointed out that taking a life, any life, was a final act. You could never go back from that. You could never undo it. Even for a moose. It was easy for others to forget that her wife had such a soft heart for everything. Except stupid adults.

Nick laughed. "Of course not. That would be too messy." They both chuckled softly. "So, ah, Gorsky yelled at us that everything was fine. And then his girlfriend- oh right, the initial 911 call said it was his wife. They're not actually married, but they lied on the lease. Anyway, she came out of the back with this big shiner. V- Officer Peck asked if she was alright and gestured for her to come over. Soon as she- Viv- Peck got near Gorsky, he grabbed his girlfriend's arm and yanked her down. She fell."

"A charming man," Holly said dryly. Good on Viv for trying to get the woman out of there.

"He was in the army." Nick's voice had a flatter tone.

Shit. Foot well and truly in mouth. Holly looked up. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"It's not an excuse, or an explanation," he insisted. But it was what it was. "He grabbed the gun as the girlfriend hit the floor and started waving it 'round. We drew our guns. He pointed it at me and Viv was crazy calm at that point. She just kept cool and kept telling him it was okay, put the gun down. And he lowered it. I thought, y'know, thank god. Then he lifted it again, looked _right_ at Vivian, and ..."

They looked at the body. "Well this certainly wasn't done by your guns," Holly noted. "Stippling, GSR, and trauma size are inconsistent with 22s."

Back when Holly had been a rookie, as it were, she'd had a hard time telling the various gauges apart without a ballistics check. In a way, that was why her speciality was knife wounds and blunt force trauma. Matching to the unknown was easy for her. But now, after all those years with Gail, she knew what size and shape the majority of calibers were just by sight. This was life married to the Pecks, she'd come to understand. The other married-ins whom she'd met had all learned similar things. They'd all mastered police work, from the teacher and nurse down to the TV producer and accountant. Once Gail teased and said it was osmosis.

Nick pushed his stool closer. "Can you _really_ tell caliber from the entry wound? That's so weird."

"And the exit," she smiled. "It's easy to tell the basics. A rifle has a different look than a small caliber or a large. Of course, this handgun was firing rifle slugs, which I find rather terrifying."

"So do I," admitted Nick. "Even the new vests don't do much to stop them."

Once in their time together had Gail been shot. She'd been wearing her vest, thank god, and took the hit to her center mass. Vivian had been seventeen and freely admitted to being terrified about it, but Gail had been fine. A massive bruise to her ribs but no breaks. She'd shown off the bruise to a curious Vivian, who had teased Gail for being so god damned pale, and how that just made it look worse than it was.

That night on pain killers had been the worst part. Somehow, Holly had slept through Gail's rather predictable nightmare. She woke up at three am to a full bladder and an empty bed. When she came looking, Vivian and Gail were sitting on the living room couch, talking about normal things. They didn't see her, so she let them be and waited up in the bedroom until Gail eased back under the covers. She couldn't hug Gail close then, it would hurt her wife too much at that moment, but Holly held her hand the rest of the night and whispered that she loved Gail. She hoped it had helped.

With that memory in the front of her brain, Holly muttered aloud, "I wish they were illegal. Not that it would help."

Nick snorted. "That would just put them into the hands of more criminals. I say we tax the hell out of bullets."

Smiling, Holly took her measurements of the bullet holes. "That hasn't stopped cigarettes."

"Neither has ticketing people for smoking outside." Nick flipped through his notes. "Should I ..." When Holly nodded, he went on. "Right, so he shot himself. Just looking at Viv the whole time, which was hella creepy. And she booted. Got outside, though. Didn't contaminate the scene. And the girlfriend passed out. So I called EMTs and the Ds and then that was that."

He didn't have to tell her about what Viv did. It was nice that he did. She worked through the autopsy, finding nothing suspect in the body, and all evidence pointed to the suicide. "I wonder what he was thinking," sighed Holly, taking her gloves off.

"Was he on drugs?"

"Labs aren't back yet." It used to be that people would push her to speed up results. Nowadays, with Gail's muscle backing her, people were understanding of the time it took for science to process. Holly suspected Gail threatened people, and she was perfectly okay with that.

Thanking her for time, Nick headed back out. Holly texted Vivian to let her know the autopsy was done and got a reply back right away.

_Anything special I can know and mess with Nick?_

That was her kid alright, she smiled and replied.

_Quid pro quo, Clarice._

Her daughter replied right away.

_His name wasn_ _'_ _t Gorsky. Fake ID._

Well that was interesting. A fake ID would make it hard to track down the information on the gun.

_GSR indicates Teflon coated bullets._

Vivian replied with a thank you, and a reminder that she loved Holly best. She was always saying that to both of them, though. It was clear to Holly that she did love both of them. Best was a momentary passing.

Tucking the supposed Mr. Gorsky away, Holly started back for her office. As she dropped off the papers, Wanda Ury called her name. "Dr. Stewart, do you have a minute? It's about the pot shop case."

"Of course," smiled Holly, changing course for the mass. spec. room. "What've we got?"

"Fentanyl."

Holly blinked. "And marijuana?" Wanda nodded. That was rare. Fentanyl in powered form had only hit the streets about twenty years ago. Holly suddenly felt old. "Well that's fun. Is it related to ... Er ... Rainbow Happiness?"

"Rackham's Vibes," corrected Wanda.

As far as Holly knew, Gail hadn't wanted to get a court order or a warrant, fearing she'd tip off the place. They must have gotten a legit fake prescription for someone and sent them in... But. That was interesting. She hadn't known they'd found the doctor connection yet.

"Well," mused Holly. "That's good. Organized Crime has been looking for that. What's the problem?"

"It's not a match."

Shit. "At all?"

"It's not the same batch. I mean, it's the same drug, but it's not the same ..." Wanda handed over the tablet computer. "Here's this batch, on the right. The left is the batch from the Unicorn place."

Studying the images, it was clearly obvious. They were not the same, and Holly sighed. They were very similar, but not enough. "I'll call this in for you, if that's okay?"

Wanda looked relieved. "Please. I don't want to explain it to Steve Peck again, he's getting snippy."

"And no one does snippy like a Peck," smiled Holly. She sent the files to her own account and went up to call her brother in law.

"Hello, beautiful sister in law," sang Steve. "Please tell me good things."

"Define good?"

"Tell me I found the doctor?"

Holly thought about that for a moment. "How _did_ you pull off that? I'm guessing you sent out a bunch of undercover officers to get prescriptions from a hundred doctors?"

"Close," drawled Steve. "We sent out a couple guys to the list of doctors that had Unicorn and Rackham in common."

"Oh see, that's smart."

"Thank you. Tell my sister I'm smart, will you?"

"You want me to lie?"

Steve laughed. "You've been hanging around Gail too much. I liked you much better when you were nicer."

"Well, you're smart, but you're unlucky. It's not the same Fentanyl." Her brother in law swore. "Sorry."

"Not your fault," he groaned. "Crap. How the hell is it not the same?"

Holly sighed. Steve was going to be difficult, she could just tell. His voice had the same tone as Gail at her most stubborn. Unlike with Gail, where she could babble the science to calm her, Holly went the direct route. The route that warned Steve he was being stupid. "Steven, do you know how humans are related to chimpanzees but we're not the same?"

He hesitated, perhaps sensing his doom. "Yes."

"It's related like that." The groan across the line told her Steve understood. "Now that doesn't mean he didn't change his formula," she pointed out. "Maybe if you find the third shop?"

"Yeah, it just makes it hella hard to tie it in to, y'know, Unicorn. And we need to find the last shop."

"Rainbow isn't it?"

"Weirdly no. It looks... Well that's funny, now that you mention it. Did the lab test _all_ the pot at Unicorn?" Steve had a bone to chew.

"We did." She hesitated. "I did not personally check if the Fentanyl was all one batch though." And the idea struck her that Unicorn might have been using two doctors and two batches.

She could hear her brother in law's grin. "Would'ja? I would love you forever and you would be my favoritist sister in the whole world."

"I'm telling Gail you said that," laughed Holly, realizing her day just ran away with her. "However yes, I will do so for you." After all, she'd agreed to call him about it. By the laws of the lab, it was her responsibility.

It took much longer than she would have liked. It involved her writing up a tech for not actually doing all the work he said he did. It involved meticulously re-running labs. It ended up getting her home nearly at midnight with a pounding head, an aching back, and a slightly stomach upset to have eaten takeout instead of Gail's food.

At home, Gail was draped over the easy chair in the living room, reading. By contrast Vivian was sound asleep on the couch, her face smushed into the pillows, her tablet precariously perched by her face. "Hey," smiled Gail.

"You waited up?"

"After yelling at my brother." Gail put down her book and shoved Viv's shoulder with a foot. "See? Mom's here. Go to bed."

Sleepily, Vivian gave Holly a hug and stumbled upstairs. "Night, Mom."

Holly eyed their daughter's trail. "What the hell?"

"She wanted to wait up."

"Why?" Holly was bewildered. It was late, her kid had suffered a series of rough days. She should be asleep.

"Well." Gail stretched. "I think she's a little needy about making sure we're here."

Ah. Holly sighed. "Well shit. Now I feel guilty."

Gail stretched and got up. "Don't. She knew where you were. And I was here." As Gail stretched her arms high above her head, her tank top rode up and her baggy sweats slouched down. In a word, Gail was incredibly sexy. And all Holly wanted was eight goddamn hours of sleep. Gail seemed to know that and smiled, taking Holly's bag. "Come on. Shower, sleep."

Letting her wife take her bag, Holly followed Gail upstairs. "Why did you stay up?"

"I like seeing your pretty face," mused Gail, carrying the briefcase to their office.

That seemed like the only answer she was going to get out of Gail, so Holly went to their bedroom and stripped for her shower. Gail wasn't back by the time she got out, and Holly fell onto the bed, face first. She was getting too old to do that kind of lab work all day. "I'm too old for this shit," she told Gail as she heard the bedroom door close.

"Why didn't you ask a tech? Assuming you're talking about being bent over a workbench all day. And not in the fun way."

Holly snorted a laugh into the pillow. "I am. And because they fucked it up already."

"Oooooh," chuckled Gail. "You swore. It must be bad."

"You have no idea."

"Tell me about it?"

Grimacing, Holly shook her head. "I just want to hurt less and sleep, honey."

The bed dipped and suddenly Gail sat on Holly's upper legs. "Well. How about I help with that." Her voice was soft and warm and just a little suggestive.

"Gail," groaned Holly, and not in a good way. The last thing she could deal with right now was an amorous Gail. Not that she didn't love that or want that, but everything hurt at the moment. "I love you but I am so wiped out - oh!" The sensation of warm oil hit her back, followed by Gail's warm hands kneading it in. "Oh my god," she managed, this time groaning with relief.

The pressure from Gail's hands was finding the knots in her lower back and pushing them out and away. "You're tired, I know. But you will toss and turn all night. Did you take some pain killers?"

"Uh huh," mumbled Holly, closing her eyes as her wife massaged her. "Two."

"Good." Dear god, Gail knew her so well now. Sometimes Holly wondered if Gail knew her better than she knew herself. "Do you want to tell me about the lab?"

It would help distract her brain, which had a tendency to want to twitch her away from the massage. Holly always had a problem relaxing into a massage. "Yeah," she sighed. "So. The techs who ran the pot for drugs didn't run everything. I mean they didn't run all the samples. Nor did they do it properly."

"By properly do you mean won't hold up in court or not to your exacting standards?"

"Second one. I had to re-do all of it with Wanda."

"Ew," agreed Gail. "Did you and Dr. Cougar Hunter find anything?"

"She's going out with people closer to her own age now, Gail." Holly smiled.

"That's only because she's closer to 40 now," sassed Gail.

It had been over a decade but Gail still liked to harass Wanda about asking Holly out. And, yes, Holly let it go every time. Mostly. "Stop it."

"Sooooooorry," laughed Gail, pressing a particularly tough knot.

It popped and Holly exhaled loudly. Relief flooded her system. "God, you are amazing."

"You're welcome." Her wife was so cheeky. And really good at getting the knots out of Holly's back. Oh god.

Holly practically purred. "This is really what I needed," she noted.

"Good." The heel of Gail's hand pressed below her shoulder blade, dragging down towards her butt.

As the tightness in her back eased, Holly was able to relax her limbs. "We found two different strains of Fentanyl, common to all three shops."

Gail made a noise. "Two. Awesome. Multiple doctors."

"That's your bone to gnaw, detective," sighed Holly.

This time Gail didn't reply. She concentrated on easing out the pain and tension and basically turning Holly into jelly. Eventually, the massaged lightened and became Gail gently sweeping her hands on Holly's back and shoulders. Less of a rub and more an affirmation that Gail was there and Holly was loved.

Moments later, Gail was jostling her awake. "Holly, come on, you need to get a shirt on," cajoled Gail, helping her into her sleep shirt. "There you go." The comfortable weight on her legs was gone and the light went off. Then the bed dipped again and Gail was snuggled up alongside. "Good night. I love you." Gail's lips touched Holly's forehead.

Too tired to reply, Holly smiled and hoped the sentiment was understood.

* * *

"Martin Badondo."

Nick looked up. "The name for me in your novelization of our life?"

"No, that's Crawlins." Holding out the tablet, Vivian explained, "Badando is the _real_ name of our Mr. Gorsky."

Her TO screwed up his face. "I'm not sure which name is worse. Batando?"

"Badondo. Two Ds." Vivian sat on the edge of Nick's desk. "Gorsky was in the army, died in the last dust up with Russia. Badando was drummed out as a recruit for conduct unbecoming, which is a fancy way to say he was in a fight with an officer and decked him. When he got back, he used Gorsky's info to get an ID and tried to live as him. His girlfriend never knew."

Taking the tablet, Nick studied the file. "Poor guy," he muttered. "How did he know Gorsky?"

Vivian grinned ear to ear. "He didn't."

Nick eyed her. He looked a little nervous. "Jesus stop looking like your mother. It's creepy enough when Gail does it. What do you know?"

She checked her nails, buffed them on her shirt, and grinned more. "I know a lot of things, Officer Collins." He scowled, clearly frustrated with her, and she leaned in a bit. "I'm a Peck. I know all about guns, I know about cars, I can pick locks, and I know a forgery when I see one."

The older officer's face changed. "What?"

Taking her tablet back, Vivian tapped and pulled up the evidence photos. "That, sir, is not Gorsky's original ID. That isn't an ID with a swapped photo. That is a fake, and out of date, ID. They changed 'em this year. The background of any driver's license made in the last 7 months should have the King's seal there."

Nick sat up. "That could be..."

"His SSN isn't Gorksky's either. It's some kid who died as a baby. I pulled up Badondo's ID from before the army, which was at another base by the way, and here. That one there is Badondo. Here's Gorsky from the same time."

They looked at the photos. The men looked nothing alike, had never met, and had only a tenuous connection. "And here I was feeling sorry for him," muttered Nick.

"Because he was in the Army?"

Nick nodded. "Well. Let's go talk to Dov and the Ds." Vivian pointed at herself, surprised. Lately all the talk with the detectives had been just Nick. "Yes, you too. You're ready." Pushing away from the desk, Nick added, "Three coffees. Me, Dov, Traci."

"Four?' She held up four fingers and poked her thumb at herself.

"Four."

Vivian had to keep herself from skipping as she went to get the coffees. Good ones too, not the swill they had in the station. On a whim, and a weird memory from Noelle teasing her in her first week about not brining coffee, she Peck'ed it up and picked one more. Soy latte, no sugar, one stevia, extra shot.

As she hustled back into the station and to Dov's office, she spotted Noelle's desk empty. "Little Peck. One of those better be for me," called out the sassier inspector. Noelle was standing in the doorway to Dov's office.

"Yes, ma'am," grinned Vivian, bounding up the stairs.

"Suck up," coughed Rich as she passed him.

Throwing out her grandfather's favorite quote, Vivian sang, "Chance favors the prepared mind!"

Noelle held Dov's door open and plucked the coffee with her name on it off the tray. "You know, I ain't going easy on you just 'cause your parents are white shirts."

"My mother never wears a white shirt. Too much of a target. And technically it's a white lab coat."

"I bet you think you're clever," smiled Noelle.

"Frequently."

She sighed and pointed to the desk. "Dov, was our little Peck this much of a pain in the ass as a rook?"

Dov smiled, "Not quite as smart mouthed, I think."

Handing out the coffees, and taking her own, Vivian smiled. "I'm a rookie, ma'am. I'm just here to listen and learn, that's all." And she took up a stance of innocence on the wall.

"Anyone believe that?" Traci smiled at Vivian. No one raised their hands. "Right. You're here because you spotted the forgery before the lab. Report _just_ came in. Want to explain how you knew that?"

Vivian looked at Nick. "The seal was missing. It's... Um. Elaine has weird hobbies?" Her erstwhile grandmother had a copy of every single iteration of the Province ID since forever.

"And you memorized them?" Traci looked actually surprised. In all her life knowing the detective, Vivian had never seen her surprised before.

Her mothers were brilliant. Holly kept all her science information in her head but she considered Gail the genius who memorized conversations. Vivian couldn't really do either, not like they could. But she did remember pictures, the way things looked. It was probably from all the diagrams in her engineering classes. "Apparently?"

The experienced officers exchanged looks. "I didn't know Pecks did embarrassed," chuckled Dov. "It's good work, Peck."

That was good. Right? "Thank you, sir."

"Now. Shut up and listen."

Smiling, Vivian did exactly that. The older officers talked around the case. Traci had some people in on a counterfeiting ring, which this was probably related to, but she was short on undercover people. "Everyone's tied up with the pot lacing case, so I'm happy to give you guys a D to work on this, but you're going to have to supply your own UC... And I need a favor."

For a fleeting moment, Vivian had a dream that she'd get to do real undercover work. Better than the food trucks. Something real.

What she got was sitting at a desk going over ID after ID as she looked for patterns. Because she was good at patterns and diagrams. "I think I got played," she muttered to Nick, seated next to her.

"If it makes you feel better, I wanted the UC too." He flicked through the pages on the tablet.

She frowned. "Is this because of Tuesday?" Tuesday they'd seen a man blow his head off. Tuesday had weirdly been the opening shot (hah, that was a Gail joke) of this debacle.

Her TO looked up. "God. I hope not." Then he glanced at her. "You good?"

Nodding, Vivian tapped an ID and highlighted it for the Ds. "I am, apparently, really good at this," she sighed.

Nick leaned over. "Wow. Okay, so you're going to be a detective?"

"Eh, never really wanted to. I want... Okay, can you promise not to laugh?"

"May I fall subject to Gail's ingenuity again."

That would do. "I wanted to be a cop like Oliver," she said softly.

The man looked at her. "Huh. Yeah, okay. You know what, I'm thinking that's alright."

But Nick didn't seem to notice that she'd used the past tense. What Vivian wanted now was not what she'd wanted at thirteen. That was normal, though. Gail was always saying what she'd wanted as a teenager, and a young adult, and a grown adult, and a married mother, they were all vastly different.

They said nothing more about it until lunch. Which was how long it took them to fulfill Traci's favor. Then and only then were they able to move on to another part of the case. Refueling the detectives. "Okay, Nick, I really think they're doing this on purpose," she grumbled, pulling in the Sally Port with the food order.

"Dov said not," he sighed. "You know it's normal to be benched for days after a shooting."

"We didn't shoot him." Yes, it was terrible. And yes, it had fucked her up in many ways, but ... Damn it, work was easier than anything else for her right now.

"It was your first death."

Oh. It wasn't, but how were they to know? She scowled. "Nick. We're cops. Why can't they let us be cops?"

Her partner sighed. "You are Gail's kid alright." He shook his head.

"You're not worried about me," Vivian said, with a sudden realization.

"You? No. Your folks'll do that. They're ... Y'know. They're good people."

Having no reply to that, Vivian sighed and carried the boxes into the bullpen. Then she brought the last box to Noelle in her office. "Can I bribe you?"

Noelle stared at her, confused. "That's not subtle at all."

"Giving me and Nick grunt work, matching IDs. That's analyst work. That's for rookie detectives. And I know Traci's got one." She put the box down and tried to project her best Gail. "I'm a street cop. This is stupid. Let me be a cop."

Putting her pen down, Noelle opened the take out box. "I do like noodles," she mused. "Do you know why you and Nick are being kept inside?" She had a guess, but Vivian shook her head and Noelle pointed at the door.

"If it's about the Greens," she said carefully, closing the door, and then stopped. She didn't know where to go with that. "I'm fine." She wasn't. Not really. But focusing on the work was easier than anything else at the moment.

"It's not. Or at least Dov thinks it's not. He doesn't know."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. She knew Dov didn't know about her birth family in detail. Gail had promised that very few people knew. But that he didn't know anything was a little surprising. "Uh, he knows they're dead."

"Yeah, and that's all he knows. They're dead, you weren't home, you got fostered and adopted." Noelle was very firm about that.

Chewing her lip, Vivian said, "But you know." There was something in the way Noelle spoke that made it a certainty about things. She knew something.

Noelle nodded slowly. "When your moms got ready to foster you, they talked to me and Frank and Oliver about how to make sure you were comfortable. Safe."

It really felt raw and galling to have a boss who knew that. Even though Vivian knew Noelle didn't know the whole story, she knew more than other people had a right to know. "You're not why ... Are you?"

"No! I thought getting you back out there right away would be better. Shrink cleared you. Dov though... "

"He shot that kid when he was new," realized Vivian, the story jumping into her head. "But this isn't the same!"

"I know. And if you weren't someone he loves like a daughter, I doubt he'd react like this." Noelle sighed. "So. I can't put you on the ID scam case. But I can ..." She tapped on her computer. "I need someone to do some leg work. Go look for birds."

Vivian blinked. "Birds?"

"Yeah, your Uncle Peck wants to know about eagles and their habitats."

"Eagles? In Toronto?"

"Back in 2014, a pair of bald eagles started nesting in High Park. We have some bird nerds-"

"Ornithologists." When Noelle glared, Vivian smothered a smile. "Sorry. Blame Holly."

"Oh, I will," sighed Noelle, but she was smiling too. "You and Nick go talk to him. Dr. Bishop. Here's the address." She handed over a slip of paper. The UoT Ornithology department. Eagles. Uncle Steve. The connections clicked. This was the pot case. Vivian grinned ear to ear. "Thanks, Noelle. You're the best."

"I bet you say that to all the inspectors," smiled Noelle, starting to eat the noddles. "Shoo."

Vivian bopped out of the office grinning. She got to help research the case. She could help find the third, mystery, brother. Or the Eagles Cross. This could be great. It could be nothing. It was better than staring at papers all day.

* * *

Her daughter was chatty.

That rarely happened, and it was quite unexpected after the week she'd had, so Gail let it go and listened to Vivian wax on about how she and Nick had spent the afternoon looking up birds. Birds. Vivian was over the moon about birds. As the youngest member of the household mixed the ingredients for potstickers, she explained how she and Nick had gone bird watching.

"Bald Eagles, right, they like water. Lakes. Oceans. Marshes. And yeah, rivers. So we told Dr. Bishop we found eagle shit on the shoe of a river worker, and wanted to know where the likely possible locations could be."

"Okay, that's pretty smart. Who had the idea?" Her kid beamed at her. "Nicely done. Heard about the IDs too. When did you learn that?"

Vivian shrugged, not dismissively but genuinely unsure. "Second year of college, I think. Remember I was taking that insane mechanical engineering class with two labs? He wanted us all to just know those stupid shear force diagrams by week two?" Gail nodded. She'd seen Vivian's wall plastered with them for study aides. "I think getting all those in me did it."

Smiling, Gail broke an egg into a shallow bowl. "I actually meant when did you memorize the IDs."

"Oh, they're in a book at Elaine's. I was over there for your last birthday."

That had been Vivian's idea, all her own. Gail refused to feel guilty about it. "And you just read random books?"

"Well. I don't know if you noticed, but Elaine's kinda old, Mom. She fell asleep so I tucked her in bed and had to kill time somehow." She paused. "Noelle knows about that too, huh?"

"Well..." Gail paused and then laughed, recognizing the speech pattern. "Sorry. Yes, she does. She was awake when Holly picked you up." That was so long ago, if felt almost like another life.

Vivian nodded and was thoughtful in her silence for a while. "She said Dov didn't know."

"He doesn't." As soon as Gail had read the file the first time, she'd done something she hated. Something she'd sworn never to try. She'd used her name and her family to push the courts. "They've been sealed since you were six, Viv." Her daughter stiffened but started to fold the potstickers. "I told you. The only people who've seen what's in them, at Fifteen, is me and Noelle."

The hazel eyes looked up in doubt. "Steve and Traci?"

"Nope." Gail leaned on the counter and took a deep breath. "Viv. I didn't want everyone to know and look at you like they used to look at me. They know in general what happened. They don't know the details and they won't from me. And they won't from Noelle."

The eyes blinked wetly and Vivian went back to making food. "Thanks."

Gail nodded. "You ... You sound okay. You know you can tell me anything. As your mom."

Her daughter nodded again, but stayed silent for a long moment. "I'm relieved," she finally said, quietly. "I feel ... I feel better. Whole. With a w."

"Good clarification." She smiled at the younger Peck. "If you need anything, sweetheart."

"Honest, Mom. I'm .. I'm better." That didn't sound like avoidance either. Gail exhaled and nodded. "I think work helps."

Gail nodded and got two beers out. "I hear ya. But just be careful." When Vivian nodded, Gail smiled. "Anyway. Tell me about the eagles, will you? You think it's birds?"

Her daughter looked relieved. "We matched up their nesting areas to places where three rivers crossed."

It was a nice idea that Vivian though the rivers and eagles were literal. Hunting that down kept her out of trouble at least. Gail just felt that river was an analogy for brothers, and had finally gotten Zanaro to agree to be interviewed. She sent Pedro, her youngest rising star, off with John for that one. John grumbled it was because he'd not actually brought Janet, his girlfriend, over to meet the Peck/Stewart clan, and Gail had ended up trapping them at a restaurant in order to meet her.

Of course it wasn't. John was smart, good at his job, and a great teacher. And anyway, Gail liked Janet. She was a professional chef and had won an episode of Chopped Canada when she was younger. Right away she and Gail had started talking about cooking. After that, they'd had her over for a dinner that the two cooked, much to the delight of Holly, John, and Vivian.

In Janet, she saw a change in John. Maybe the things he'd learned from Rachel had put him in a place where now, years later, he was ready for more than just dating. Maybe.

She wasn't going to push him.

They were done with the first batch when Holly came home. "Can I be done with long days, Pecks?" She fell into a stool at the kitchen island.

Gail got her a beer. "Mine are up next, I'm afraid," she warned her wife, kissing her temple.

"Do I want to know?" Holly popped the cap off the beer and took a long swing.

"I sent John to New Brunswick."

Holly eyed her. "Are we back on the people part of your investigation?"

"And apparently an ornithological angle. I'm sure Vivian will be collecting bird poop for you soon enough."

"Rodney will enjoy that," said Holly decisively and Gail laughed. "Can I eat one now or is that gauche?"

Vivian pushed the plate and sauce over. "I never get between Mom and the food," she joked. "I'm making the rest into satay." As Vivian turned back to her cooking, she asked, "Gauche means left. Why is it used to ask if something's socially derpy?"

The doctor shrugged. "Don't ask me, I'm not the linguist."

Pulling a stool closer to Holly, Gail wrapped an around around her wife's waist and picked up a potsticker. "It was considered the height of awkward and social gracelessness to be left handed." The food was great.

Holly leaned into her and made a pleased noise. "Feed me, wife."

"So pushy," teased Gail, but she did dip one and fed it to Holly. "How's your back?"

"Much better," smiled Holly. "Viv this is really good. But why are you cooking?"

"Mom beat me at the range."

They'd gone to the range after shift with Noelle, having a normal night of shooting. Gail hadn't intended to make a competition of it, but Noelle asked if Vivian threw the competition last November, so they had a bit of a shoot out then and there. Gail pulled her phone out and showed the targets to Holly, who laughed.

"Honey, have you learned nothing? No one beats your mom at target competitions."

Vivian flipped her mothers off. "I can beat her on long distance," muttered the child.

It was true, too. "You need to work on your rifles," she mused, smiling at her daughter and feeding Holly another potsticker. Gail needed glasses to read now, and she was dreading the loss of any more visual acuity. Needing glasses to shoot wasn't insurmountable, but it wasn't good. She'd already talked to her eye doctor about prescription shooting glasses.

"How come you never come shooting?" Vivian added more potstickers to the plate.

"I don't like it," replied Holly, reaching over to pick up a potsticker and feed it to Gail. "I did it once, though."

Vivian eyed Gail who nodded. "Huh. You're so different. Sometimes I wonder how you guys ended up together at all."

Kissing Gail's cheek, Holly replied, "I wonder too." Gail smirked and pinched Holly's side. Holly slapped her shoulder. "Do you have to go to NB?"

"No," smiled Gail. She let go of Holly's waist to rub her shoulder. "John's just working with Pedro and interviewing."

"Lucky," yawned Holly. "Can we eat on the couch?"

It was Vivian who sassed, "Yes you may."

Holly, the grammar snob, sighed. "I deserved that." She took the plate of potstickers to the coffee table.

"Fine, but we're not watching that stupid show about the opera singer," complained Gail. They ended up watching a political drama about a UN ambassador who was embroiled in a scandal with a country who had an embargo. There was some side plot about how the aide was sleeping with another ambassador who was married, but they all ignored that.

They were all in their rooms before eleven, and one presumed their beds. Gail was certainly in the bed and curled up, ready for her wife. When Holly slipped into the bed, Gail's toes found she'd shaved, and the blonde ooooohed appreciatively. "Remember when you asked me why I shaved my legs if I was a lesbian," teased Holly.

"Remember when I didn't shave my legs for a winter?" Gail slid her bare legs along Holly's.

"How did I get you to start shaving again?" Holly grinned and turned the lights off.

"You bought me that flannel dress." It had been a shirt, but Gail had worn it as a shirt dress, which had proven the point to both of them. Shaving did not make her any more or less butch than a flannel shirt. Gail shaved, and Holly appreciated the style choice.

Holly nestled into the bed, swarming over two thirds of it. "The only flannel you own," she teased.

Smiling, Gail closed her eyes. "I have those pajama pants. Besides, you look better in flannel." A pause. "And out of flannel." Holly laughed and poked her arm. "Night. Love."

Her wife stretched and put her head by Gail's shoulder. "Love," she replied. "Sleep."

It used to be weird, falling asleep with someone. Now it was weird not doing so. Now the normal was a house with a wife on her side, breathing deeply. "Yeah," smiled Gail. "Love."

* * *

Somehow Jenny had convinced the owner of the Penny to put their scoreboard up on the wall. And someone had filled in information for all of them. All. That meant Vivian was included. As she read off the points allocated for the week, Vivian realized it was Traci's handwriting. Damn it. That was tacit approval by the Pecks that counted.

"Thirty?" That was Christian, holding out a beer.

"I think it's for the forgery. God knows we came up empty on bird watching." She'd been so sure, too. The brothers in the story, the modern brothers, were the Bird Brothers.

Her friend huh'd and looked at his score. He'd been helping surveillance while the experienced officers tried to buy fake IDs. "Ten. Well. I sat in a van with Rich for seven hours. How did you not kill him?"

"The bane of having my moms, I know I'd be caught."

"Yeah. That would suck. How's the gang thing going?"

Vivian made a face. "Fuck all. We've checked a bunch of eagle nesting ground, and Noelle said we get to do it all next week too."

They walked over to the rookie table. "So you're playing now?" Rich was such a jerk.

"I didn't fill it in," shrugged Vivian.

Jenny slid into the seat beside her. "Traci and Steve Peck did. They're nice." Sharing a nod with Vivian, Jenny added, "Which I guess is approval?"

"From the Pecks who matter. You know he's my uncle, right?"

The other rookie shook her head. "Steve's your uncle? So ... Wait..."

Turning, Vivian spotted Gail. "The blonde sitting by him is my mom. His sister." Jenny peeked around and startled. "Yes," sighed Vivian.

"Holy crap, no wonder you didn't want to play." Jenny looked apologetic.

"I doubt she actually cares," Vivian mused.

"Yeah but she's... I mean, she has a freaking OOM!"

Rich frowned. "OOM?"

"Officer of the Order of Merit," explained Christian. "Just of the police, right? Not the other one?"

"Yeah, she has to wear it when she's in her blues." Vivian had been present to that ceremony. It had been back when John and Chloe got their MOMs, and Gail had gotten bumped, much to her annoyance. "I think the RVO bugs her more." When Rich opened her mouth, she added, "Royal Victorian Order. For personal services to the King."

He stared at her. "Bullshit."

So Vivian pulled out her phone and tapped into the police article. There was a photo of Gail and Holly and herself and the King. "I was fifteen when she got it."

"That is a lot to live up to," muttered Jenny, looking at the photo. "Also you are incredibly short for fifteen."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Late bloomer." She took her phone back. "You can look up the case of you want."

The annoying man shook his head, looking actually scared for once. Twice, if Vivian counted the time he'd seen the dead guy in the pot shop. Three times. On Thursday he'd been scared about Gail as well. "She's going to kill me, isn't she? For ... For hitting on your other mom."

"Unlikely," smiled Vivian.

"Totally likely," said Christian.

"She didn't kill Ger- Duncan. And he was her rookie for a while." The fact that Duncan used to be called Gerald was a secret Vivian kept for him. He didn't need the help with his rep. Duncan was not well respected as a TO.

Over at the old guard table, Gail was leaning around Traci to point at Nick. It was different to watch it now, from all the way over at the rookie table, knowing she _could_ go over and she'd be welcome, but she would feel out of place. It was just the first steps really away from her parents.

Gail caught her look and lifted a beer at her. There was nothing said. Nothing needed to be said. They understood each other well. They always had. As much as it pained Vivian to admit, Holly was right. Vivian had a different connection with Gail. They'd been alike from the very start, loath she'd been to admit it at six. No, back then she remembered not trusting anyone, not even the goofy blonde with a weird sense of humor. Not the smiling brunette who was all kinds of awkward around her.

That first year they'd all walked on eggshells until Holly got sick. Then ... What Vivian remembered most was seeing Gail put _her_ first. It didn't matter how much pain Gail was in, and yes, Vivian could see it even then. No matter what, Vivian came first. Really, no one in her memory had done that before. So, spotty as she knew it to be now, Gail firmed herself up as someone who could be trusted. Relied on. If they wanted Vivian.

Funny how things changed in eighteen years.

Her mother made a face and signed 'turn around.'

Taking the hint, Vivian focused back on the conversations at hand. Rich wasn't paying attention either, though, which was interesting. She leaned towards him and asked, quietly, "Hey, Rich. You know ASL?"

He blinked at her. "ASL? Uh, no. Why?"

"Your dad."

Rich's eyes widened. "Don't-" He stopped and looked at Vivian in surprise and then guilt. "Oh." Rich looked beyond Vivian and over at the other tables.

She nodded. "So I know ASL. A little LSQ. Both."

The rakish, I'm-so-cool look faded from his face. Rich was just another guy. "Can't lip read?"

"Not well. I never needed to." Vivian shrugged. "It's cool though. Noelle was impressed."

"Not really a cop thing, though," muttered Rich.

Ah. He had that stigma. "Neither is running a marathon or being able to re-wire a radio," pointed out Vivian. "But they are. That's the stuff that makes us smart, y'know?"

Rich pointed at the old guard's table. "What can she do?"

"Linguist. Gave me all kinds of shit for flunking a French test once."

"Yeah, but that's useful!"

"Oh and lip reading wasn't?" Vivian beamed as Rich went silent. Boo yah. "She cooks too. My other mom's the sporto. Hockey."

Rich snorted a laugh. "My dad's a ballet dancer."

"That's cool. What kind? Russian? French?" A deaf ballet dancer was a wild idea, but from her fling with Skye, Vivian knew that a lot of artists were deaf.

She and Rich talked about that, ballet and the arts, for much of the night. Jenny joined in, having an appreciation for classical music. It was, perhaps, not the expected conversations folks might have at the Penny, but it was fun. It was entertaining.

The next morning, Saturday, Vivian was up at six. Gail was sitting downstairs with coffee and her iPad, looking surprised to see her. "Why are you up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," smiled Vivian, pulling on her running shoes. "I'm meeting the ETF guys at the park."

Gail screwed up her face. "Ew. Have fun."

"And you are up because..."

"Hot flashes. And your mother is snoring."

"Ew," laughed Vivian, kissing Gail's forehead. "I'll be back by lunch."

"You say that like it means I'm supposed to do something," Gail said, teasingly.

Of course, Gail would do something. Probably make a lunch for Vivian as well as herself. It was just what Gail did. She just didn't make a fuss about it.

Stretching outside, Vivian squinted at the sun. It was still hot and sticky in September, but the air had that quality that said it would change soon. The wetness was different. More earthy. What did Holly say? No, it was from _Doctor Who_. The smell of the earth after the first drop of rain. Petrichor.

She thought about nothing more than words and meanings as she jogged down the street and over to the park. The park near their house had been reinvented a few years back. It used to be a normal, dingy sort of park that pre-teen Vivian wasn't allowed to visit on her own. Then the neighborhood started having Farmers Markets in the spring and summer. The money from that led to an outdoor pool being built, and then an ice skating rink. Most recently they'd put in exercise sets, like adult jungle gyms. Gail called it the American Ninja Warrior phenomenon, which was having a nice resurgence.

And that was, actually, what the ETF guys liked to do. Ivan, Eric, Duane, and Sabrina all wanted to be on the show and regularly made plans to drive to Pittsburgh or Detroit or New York for try-outs. So far they'd never made it to the course, but Eric had camped out a week in the standby line. Two of them, Duane and Sabrina, were already at their favorite part of the park, playing on the monkey bars.

"Aren't you guys a little old for that?" They were only a few years older than she was, but she'd been running with them since Sue invited her along on an ETF run when she'd been 19. Gail still thought they were all insane.

"Shut up, ya rookie," laughed Sabrina. "Quad Steps to the monkey bars. Swing across to the uneven logs. From there do the tire swing to the free rope. Climb to the top, transfer to the pole, slide down, ten ten sit ups, then sprint to the gate."

Dryly, Vivian noted, "I bet you spent all night thinking that up."

Duane, who shared an apartment with Sabrina, muttered, "She did. Mapped it out and everything."

But it was, Vivian had to admit, fun to do. There was no friendly water to land on here, nor comfy pads. It was just dirt and wood chips, which Holly had dug out of Vivian's legs and arms on more than one occasion. She'd been a klutzy, filthy, sporto for years, it was true, but she had fun, and she couldn't knock that.

Vivian's chances for fun were still few and far between. She was always going to carry the ghosts of her birth parents around with her. They would always haunt her doubts and fears. At the same time, she had two amazing guardian angels in the form of her mothers. They loved her in an open way that was healing. They defended her, protected her, and let her go out on her own.

In that way, she felt like she was making progress as a human. A good person. A person who could have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We inch along with the case about the Three Rivers gang. To be honest, it wasn't a plan for them to come back when I finished OWtO. This evolved as I sketched out the plot for this storyline, so it remained.
> 
> Vivian's weird hobby is a melange of Gail and Holly. Individual like Gail, sporty with friends like Holly. And yes, from the very start this was what happened. There are minor details that are forgotten, but Vivian was witness to her father blowing his head off. As for her mysterious aunt... For now, she can't know. Or rather, Gail and Holly can't tell her.
> 
> Of course it will be a secret they will regret having to keep. This is a drama.


	6. 01.06 Fragments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who would want to blow up a zoo during Oktoberfest? Someone does, and the rookies are left with a bomb, a teacher, and a dozen elementary students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rookies are starting to gel as a group. Vivian's much less an outsider than she thinks she is. Certainly less than Gail was at the same timeframe. She has a different self image is all.
> 
> This story takes place in the somewhat near future, where everyone has and uses tablet computers, and Same Gender Marriage in the U.S. is old hat. I wrote the intro to this chapter around the time the U.S. passed the law to legalize gay marriage.

There were simple pleasures in life. Holding Gail's hand as they walked through the park near their house was one of them. Gail's fingers were laced through her own, not too sweaty. Of course, it was October and the market Gail loved all summer was gone a month, finally replaced by the autumn market. That meant it was chilly, but also that Gail wanted to wander and find fresh vegetables and foods.

As they walked through the stalls, Holly saw a pair of teenaged boys holding hands looking shyly proud of themselves. It was so different from the look of abashed defiance she'd seen in her youth. Back then, they were daring if they held hands with someone of the same gender. Homosexuals rarely kissed them outside of parades. But the boys were just carrying on with the same levels of awkward of any teen, just trying to figure out what romance was.

One of them caught her eyes, looked down a little and grinned at her, a blush tinging his face. Holly glanced down at her own hand, the tan fingers laced with Gail's pale ones, and smiled back.

When she'd been a young girl, the idea of having a girlfriend and holding hands was a pipe dream. First of all, Holly hadn't realized she was gay, or really what that meant at all, until she'd been kissing a boy and failed to understand all the fuss. Then she'd kissed a girl. And then it made sense. Secondly, as a girl there had been no concept of marriage for lesbians. Two boys, two girls, whatever. They didn't get married. Thirdly, and most important, Holly hadn't ever seen herself as the marrying sort.

And here she was, nineteen years married to an impish, unpredictable, goofy, loving woman. Now things like marriage equality was pretty much universal. Nearly every nation had given up the fight and accepted it as just another thing.

"Hey, Gail," she said as they paused at the crosswalk. "I like spending time with you."

"Useful," mused Gail, looking entertained. "Seeing as you just spent a day with me."

"Goof. I mean all the time. I like you."

Gail smiled. "What's going on in your nerdy brain that brought that on?"

"Pretty much everyone can get married now."

Her wife tilted her head and looked up. "All the Americas. All of Europe. Australia. Most of Asia..." Gail chuckled. "Remember when Russia finally passed the law?"

That had been fairly recently. The then new Prime Minister had announced that in the interests of human rights, they were withdrawing forces from Lithuania and that it was no longer punishable to be homosexual. He was the first Prime Minister since Putin to not be a member of the United Russia party, and instead was elected from the minority party A Just Russia.

That had kicked off a tidal wave of activity internally. By the end of his tenure, Russia had begun their plans to withdraw troops from the former Soviet Bloc. Then he became the President of Russia, a position he held until his death, and performed a gay marriage.

Everyone had become quite fond of him. His assassination was horrifying and, instead of destroying the work he'd done, made it even more solid. It cemented the change in Russia, and the new law had survived a coup and an invasion of Ukraine. Again. Some things never changed, and yet everything changed all the time.

"That was a good day," agreed Holly, squeezing Gail's hand. "This is too."

Gail made a face. "Going shopping and for a walk on Sunday morning is a good day?"

"Yes," Holly said firmly. "With you."

"You are being very weirdly romantic, you goof," laughed Gail, her canines flashing in delight.

"I think I'm allowed."

"Oh yes," agreed the blonde, leaning over to kiss Holly's cheek. "Very allowed. Always allowed."

They walked a little longer in silence. "Your birthday is next month," Holly noted.

Her wife winced. "No, no, I'm not having any more."

"Big five-oh," teased Holly. Gail let go of Holly's hand to jam her fingers in her ears and chant 'la-la-la' at the top of her lungs. "Goofball," she laughed, grabbing Gail's hand and squeezing it. "I already reserved the range that night. Oliver wants to throw a party at the Penny."

Gail pouted. "I hate the parties. And next year we have to have one for being stupid married twenty years, like it was some horribly difficult feat."

"I _think_ it's to show off how awesome we are and how easy we make it look."

That gave her wife pause. "Oh. Well that's okay. We are awesome."

Grinning, Holly kept walking down the street. "That we are."

They were quiet for another block. "Holly, really, I don't want a big party. Can't we go shooting and then have drinks at the Penny and go home and try to make another baby?"

It wasn't what Holly expected Gail to say, and it made her laugh. The part about drinks, sure, but... "You're an idiot," she laughed.

"Oh really?"

"I'm a doctor, Gail, and that's not how it works."

Gail, impossibly impish, lifted her eyebrows. "I mean if you want to buy me a new toy..." And she leered.

"Never change," giggled Holly.

"Only in good ways," Gail promised, canines showing as she smiled back. Her phone rang and Gail sighed loudly. "Peck," she announced into the phone, making a face at Holly by way of apology.

Holly grinned and took the shopping bag from Gail and watched her walk off to the side of the path, head down, listening intently. Very carefully, Holly eased her phone out of her pocket and took a photo of Gail. The serious mien on her face was rare, and Holly sent it to Elaine.

_Your daughter, Super Peck._

The reply text was amusing.

_That is the look of someone annoyed to be bothered on her weekend._

Yeah. It was that face too. Gail caught her eyes and made a childishly goofy face. Propping her phone against her shoulder, Gail signed that it was the gang case. Carefully, Holly signed back asking if they needed to go home. The quick reply of 'no' was appreciated and Gail hung up a moment later.

"Saving the world?"

"Smoking the world." Gail shoved her phone away and mimed smoking a joint. "The bird angle is coming up short."

Holly arched her eyebrows. "Was that my lab?" She held out her free hand.

Shaking her head, Gail took Holly's hand. "Dr. Bishop."

"Ah, the very odd ornithologist."

Gail laughed. "If you think he's weird, he must be bizarre," she joked.

"Oh and you don't?"

"Oh I think he is very weird, Ms. Coatcheck."

"That's _Dr._ Coatcheck," Holly said, primly. "I didn't spent five years at Jacket Medical School to be Ms. anything."

With a smile, Gail leaned over and kissed her. " _Mrs._ Doctor Coatcheck, my bad."

"You married me," smiled Holly.

"You asked."

"You said yes."

They both grinned. They'd bantered like that for almost twenty years now. It didn't really matter who'd asked whom. They both knew that. It didn't matter in the slightest that Holly had been listed as Vivian's father until, at nineteen, the kid had taken herself to the courthouse to get it corrected. It mattered that they were still there and still them.

"You came when I needed you," noted Gail, her voice a little quieter.

"I'll always come," promised Holly, equally quietly. "Any time. Anywhere."

Those moments in time were Holly's favorites. They could repeat the conversations, the fragments of instances in their lives, a hundred times. The meanings remained. They were the moments to make you smile.

* * *

The worst part about living at home, besides the fact that she'd accidentally walked in on her moms on the couch, again, for the fifth time since summer ended, was that she caught an earful from both parents for the scrape on her arm.

"Wow, Peck, what happened to you?" Jenny bumped into her as Vivian was rolling down the sleeves on her uniform shirt.

"I slipped in some mud," she sighed. Vivian hated the long-sleeved shirts. They felt restrictive.

Jenny took hold of Vivian's wrist and pushed the sleeve up. "And went to the ER? Nice bandage."

With a grimace, Vivian pulled her arm back. "No. My mom's a doctor. You know that."

"A dead people doctor."

"And a mother. She over-reacts sometimes." Holly had been concerned with infection and, after Vivian's shower, plunked her down for some antibiotic cream and a medical grade wrap. Gail had laughed. A lot.

"So no stitches?" Jenny smirked and elbowed Vivian as they walked into parade.

"Yes," deadpanned Vivian. "Eight stitches. And she did it in the kitchen." There was a brief pause when Jenny looked like she bought it, and Vivian shoved her shoulder. "You're an idiot, just so you know."

There was a story Uncle Steve loved to tell, when he and the other Old Guard were a couple beers in, about how Holly had stitched his back up in the kitchen of the old townhouse. Vivian knew the townhouse. They'd lived there for a short time when she'd just moved in, but then they moved to their current house. The summer she'd first heard the story, Steve explained he'd been sitting in the kitchen waiting for them to get back in the middle of the night.

Of course Gail corrected him and pointed out he'd been sitting in the floor, and he'd watched them making out for almost a minute before announcing his presence. Steve countered that his sister had been making fast work on Holly's shirt, which meant it was not his fault that lesbian porn just _happened_ in front of him, and that ended with a sibling tussle. It was hard to remember why she'd even once been nervous around Steve, but Vivian recalled as she had been.

As they sat down at the tables, Vivian glanced over at Nick. She was afraid of him as a child too. Now that she remembered a little more about her father, the fear of Nick made less sense. Nick was nothing like her father. But the brain was a funny place.

"Who doesn't love the zoo?" Dov strolled in from the side door, holding a notebook. When no one answered, he looked up. "No one? Don't answer that, Peck," he pointed at her.

Vivian smiled. "Yes, sir." Holly hated zoos, and everyone who knew that laughed at Vivian and Dov's conversation. Any place that caged animals for show and tell was evil to her soft-hearted mother. Gail shared the sentiment, though. The only times Vivian had gone to the zoo had been with schools.

"We have a party at the zoo today. They're hosting Oktoberfest."

A surprised murmur ran through the room. "But boss, that's supposed to be at the parking lot of Ontario Place!" Duncan spoke as he was raising his hand in confusion.

"The lot flooded. Water pipe burst over the weekend and the zoo offered up their lot. So you guys get to enjoy that last bit of warmth in the out of doors! Rookies, you'll be patrolling the event. Let them be drunk, but stop the disorderly. McNally is in charge. Moore, you get to guard the parking lot while they clean it up. Serve, protect, don't drink the beer till you're out of uniform." The officers laughed and as they got up, Dov added, "Anyone who wants to volunteer to work Thanksgiving, sign up by end of the week. If I don't get enough, I'm drawing from a hat."

Vivian texted Gail, asking if she should volunteer for the holiday work, and went to get her kit. Vests and cameras were de riguer for this sort of thing. As she was strapping in, Nick came up.

"Ever been to Oktoberfest?"

"Couple times," admitted Vivian. "I went last year with some classmates."

"I haven't been in years," muttered the older man.

Right. Because Nick didn't drink at all. She'd never gotten the story on that. "Are you coming to supervise us?"

"No, I'm off to liaison with Anderson about a case you don't get to know about, rookie. Go listen to McNally and Josephs."

Vivian snapped a jaunty salute. "Yes sir, Officer Collins, sir," she grinned.

"You're way too impish, Little Peck," he sighed, but his eyes smiled at her. They were Uncle Nick eyes.

"It could be worse. I could be like Steve." As soon as she said it, Nick laughed and the noise followed her out.

Andy was waiting with Josephs, and tossed her keys. "Peck, take 1504 and Aronson. You stay by the great cats today."

She caught the keys on the air. "1504. What did I do to you, McNally?" The veteran cop laughed at her.

As she and Jenny buckled up, the other legacy cop asked, "Is 1504 the cursed one?"

"Oh yeah," nodded Vivian. "It's been shot, set on fire, hit by a car... Actually I think this is the one McNally drove when Ger- Duncan- Moore was hit in the head by an axe."

Jenny didn't miss it. "Duncan?"

"His step-father is my mom's god-father." Backing up, Vivian added, "Al Santana. Former police chief."

Jenny's head snapped around. "Dumb Ass Duncan is the chief's son!?"

"Step-son. And former chief. Uncle Al was cool. Duncan's always been thick." Her partner for the day snorted and Vivian smiled. She missed Uncle Al.

After a few blocks, Jenny remarked, "You're cooler than I thought you were at the academy."

Cool? No one called her cool. "Me?"

"Yeah, you were all quiet and ... Aloof. Like you had better things to do than to hang out with us."

Vivian shook her head. "Besides pass near the top of the class, no, not really."

"Peck," sighed Jenny. "I would've changed my name."

"I did."

Jenny eyed her. "Wait a second… You changed your name _to_ Peck?"

"Yep!" Vivian popped the P just like Gail did.

"Huh. I don't know why but I guess I assumed you were adopted as a baby."

"Nah, I was six and a bit."

Shaking her head, Jenny made an annoyed sound. "That's insane. Did you think you were gonna get a free pass on stuff as a cop?"

Vivian sighed. "Honest to god, that was the last thing on my mind when I did it." She frowned a little, wondering how to explain it without having to explain everything. "It's just a thing. Okay?"

Her partner eyed her. "A crazy ass thing. Man, I would've taken Dr. Stewart's name— Oh! Is that what the S is for?" When Vivian nodded, Jenny sighed. "You're cool, Peck. You're a little crazy and totally weird, though."

"Tell me something I don't know," sighed Vivian. She pulled the car up at the zoo and eyed the setup for the beer-fest. "Okay, so if the party is here, why are we patrolling the inside?"

Jenny unbuckled. "Josephs told me that they got a nearly free pass to the zoo with the purchase of the beer pass, or whatever it was called. It's the off season, so I guess the zoo wants to attract people."

That made sense, realized Vivian. "Damn them for being all sensible." Locking the car, she flipped on her video. "4727, Peck. At the zoo for bratwurst and the inevitable boob shot."

The other woman laughed. "4749, Aronson. Oktoberfest at the Zoo." She settled her belt. "Why do you wear your gun that far forward?"

Vivian looked down. "I have an uncle who used to pluck 'em from behind." Oliver had spent a month teaching that trick to Vivian, and subsequently how not to be fooled by it. She paused at the gate and smiled brightly at the perplexed ticket taker. "Hi, we're your muscle."

Moments later, they were ushered in and Vivian picked up a map to study. "You need a map? I thought you were born and raised in Toronto."

"I haven't been to the zoo since I was in elementary school. Don't like caged animals." Vivian folded the map and put it in a thigh pocket. When she realized Jenny hadn't said anything, she looked over, questioningly.

"You've got layers, Peck."

Great. She was an onion. "Is that a compliment?"

"I'm just saying. I've known you, what, nine months now? You've got, like, all these secrets and layers and stuff. You're a person, and a kinda cool one."

Vivian eyed Jenny thoughtfully. "I can honestly tell you that very few people have ever, seriously, referred to me as cool."

"Then you knew some real losers," announced Jenny, firmly. "And since I, clearly, am not a loser, then you are going to buy us coffee."

It was weird, but Vivian thought she kind of liked being liked. She rolled her eyes at her partner. "Okay, fine, I'll buy our coffee."

* * *

Everyone knew Gail had some problems.

She was almost fifty, she was bitchy and sarcastic, and had a dark sense of humor. She'd struggled with self-esteem issues in her youth, putting on an anti-anything façade fairly early on in life. She didn't trust easily, though that was her parents fault, pretty much making sure she would never feel as if she could rely on anyone else.

But today, at that aforementioned nearly fifty, and for god's sake could everyone please stop planning the party, Gail was confident and steady. She'd been a cop just over half of her life, hitting the twenty-five year marker with her classmates just the year before. She'd been a detective for almost twenty years. She knew her shit and she knew it well.

She also knew when she was being bullshitted by a suspect. In this case, the suspect was a purported member of the Three Rivers gang.

In the interview room was one of her newer detectives, who had followed Gail's directions to the letter. First you asked the suspect for the story, writing down notes on the left column of the notebook (if you can't memorize it on the fly). Every time he said 'then' or 'And so...' you made a new paragraph. Then you went backwards and asked about each point in reverse order. People memorized a story in one direction, so that method had a tendency to trip up the obvious liars.

Alas, their loser wasn't lying about the events. He'd been tasked with delivering drugs. Nothing big and nothing illegal. Just take the weed from the labs, sign for it, and take it to the right dispensary. The illegal part was, on the way, he was to stop at an underpass, wait for someone to come by, open the back of the truck, and then take the drugs to their designated locations.

A little shady, one agreed.

The problem was that he claimed left, right and centre that he didn't know who the people were who messed with the drugs. And Gail didn't believe him.

"He's lying," she said to Traci.

"As the day is long." Her sister in law sipped her coffee. "Gonna go in?"

"In a bit." Gail put her ubiquitous DAD mug down. It was her fourth or fifth iteration. The first had been stolen from Oliver. That one broke when her car blew up. The replacement was a present for adopting Vivian, even though Holly had been named as the father on the forms. That cup broke when a gunman shot into the Division. The third was the one Gail bought herself, broken by Duncan, who bought... Oh right. The one Duncan bought had the stupid rose on it and Gail had let Vivian shoot that one.

That made this number five and the one her actual kid bought for Father's Day, making a joke that Holly was her dad, since she was listed as 'father' on the paperwork. They'd never changed that, even though it was free to do. They all found it too funny.

Gail smiled at the mug. Her daughter had quite a bit of interest in this case. She'd tried to dissuade Vivian, but the girl held on to her attraction. It was something Gail understood, the niggling feeling that there was something deep in the meanings and ideas. There was. There had to be.

Beside her, Traci sighed. "Steve's up a wall about this case. Every time he finds something, he just gets more and more layers."

They hadn't been this smart before. They were better at secrets and possibly more educated. The layers were deep. "So... What? You think this guy's just another layer?"

Traci shook her head. Then she nodded. "I don't know. He doesn't know anything."

"He doesn't _seem_ to know anything," corrected Gail. "Watch my mug. I like this one." She ignored Traci's laugh as she opened the door to interrogation.

Her quasi rookie was leaning on the table. "Before that, though," he said slowly.

"God, before that was what I told you. I got up, I got the phone call, I went to the delivery." The criminal looked up at Gail, confused.

"Hello, Topher." She sat down at the table. "Too many people named Christopher in your school?"

He nodded a little. "Yeah."

"We've had a few here," Gail mused. "So. Why?"

Topher blinked a little. "Why?"

"Yeah. Why."

"I don't... Why what? Why am I here? Shit, you arrested me!"

Gail looked up at her detective. "We arrested him? Detained. Jim, go check on that, will you?" Her detective nodded and went out of the room. Gail studied the young man before her. "We ran a background on you. Top of your class at UCC."

Young Topher looked at the table. "Scholarship," he muttered.

"Yeah, that's not easy either. You're a smart guy. Why all this?" He didn't answer. Gail leaned back in her chair. How best to lower the bar, she mused. "They trust you a lot for delivering drugs. It looks like it's something for a simpleton. You know? Drive around and follow directions. But for that, you have to be someone dependable. Reliable. Smart."

Topher looked up at her with guarded eyes. "What do you know?"

She knew those eyes, for one. She'd seen them day in and day out for years, mostly in the mirror, but also in her brother. The eyes were someone who wore the burden of expectations. Tactic change. "I'm a legacy," she told him. "My folks did this, my kid does it. We all do it. This is who we are." Gail waved a hand around the room. "I didn't dream of being a ballerina or a pirate or anything."

The guarded eyes widened a little. "They didn't give you a choice," he whispered.

"We are what we are made to be, Topher." Leaning forward, Gail rested her elbows in the table. "Why?"

Her blue eyes met Topher's brown and he looked away, abashed and ashamed. "It's like you said," he muttered. "I am what I was made." He twisted his fingers together. "They're the big success, y'know? They're the ones who are better than what we were made. They figured it out. I'm just bringing up the rear."

"They?"

Topher narrowed his eyes. "Brothers and blood before drugs," he said softly.

Brothers. Three brothers. "Bobby Zanaro's dead, you know," she drawled. He wasn't. He was in WitSec. The world just thought he was dead. "Got ousted by his own gang twenty years ago."

Her perp shook his head. "He ain't that old."

What? Gail wanted to sit up straight and grab Topher's collar, physically shaking him down to explain that. She had to play it cool. She had to stay still. "Bobby ain't that old? Kid, he could be _my_ old man."

Topher shook his head again. "Nah, nah, senior's dead. Blue ain't."

Blue? That was a name, clearly. But calling Bobby 'senior' meant one thing and one thing only. Bobby had a kid. That son of a bitch... Playing it as cool as she could, Gail asked, "Blue's back?"

"Yeah, totally on the QT." Topher tilted his head. "I want immunity."

Twenty years ago she couldn't offer that protection. She'd had to bluff and lie about it back then. Twenty years her silence in that moment of indecision, that pause where she tried to fabricate a lie, had bought her the biggest win of her career and catapulted her into success and was the stepping stone to what she was today. It had taught her a lasting lesson, one she held on to. Wait. Be patient. Don't promise anything. Just give them a place to talk, and listen.

She waited, thoughtfully. She leaned back in her seat and looked at Topher, considering things. He wasn't cracking. He needed something to push him over that edge. So as the tension built, as he started to twitch, she said one word.

"Why?"

He broke. He told her that Bobby's son, in his late twenties, was in charge. Bobby 'Blue' Zanaro Jr. He'd gone to the States with his mother back when the gang had ousted Bobby back when Gail had been in uniform. Bobby hid the kid well. Topher knew because his older brother had been in school with Blue in Michigan, and when Blue had come back, the gang welcomed him back and apologized about his father.

At least they all thought Bobby was dead.

But Bobby's kid seemed to find that living well, in his dad's old job, was the best revenge.

Topher told her that Bobby (aka Blue) was going by James Yorke, which she'd get the boys to run, but he sounded like the kind of smart kid who knew how to hide. No. Scratch that. She _knew_ he knew how to hide. That kid had hid his takeover for the last five years. He'd taken the broken gang and re-formed it. He'd taken a shattered gang, that had split into a thousands parts, and brought it back together.

What Topher didn't know was how. Or why. He just knew what.

Technically they'd known that too, but now they had some insight into why even if Topher didn't. Revenge was a great motivator.

"Okay, Topher. If this pans out, if we can verify that Blue is legit and for real, we can deal."

Topher exhaled. "I promise, man- woman- ma'am. Legacy to legacy. I never wanted this."

Part of Gail wondered if that's what she could have been like. Scratch that. It _was_ what she was like. She had taken down her own mother, after all. She never wanted this either. "Okay," she said carefully.

"My mom... My mom's Zanaro," Topher breathed. "Blue's my cousin."

That put a spin on it. His mother was a Zanaro. Maybe he knew. "Just one thing," she asked as she stood up. "The name. Three Rivers. Bobby's- Bobby Sr.'s old man had two brothers."

Her little witness looked confused. "Yeah?"

"Where's the name from. Three Rivers?"

Topher shook his head. "I thought it was the, y'know, rivers." He shrugged.

Gail nodded. "Right. Sit tight."

Letting herself out, Gail tasked one of her guys, her super-rookie Pedro, with getting all the details out of the now chatty Topher. Then she sent the background info to the computer nerds for a check on how the hell they'd missed Bobby Zanaro Jr. And then, only then, did she tell John that she was going to try and think through what she had.

Bobby Zanaro Sr. He'd been a lieutenant in Three Rivers. He was ousted by the young bucks, all of whom Gail had shut down and bounced to Major Crimes on her laurels. They'd known that some of the old guard for the gang had lingered, but mostly as a social club. If she believed Topher, and she had no reason not to just then, then within the last five years, Blue had come in and rebuilt the gang to the point he could take over Anton Hill's people. That was pretty fucking impressive, she had to admit.

But damn it all, that had to be bigger than just Blue. The way the gang was segmented right now meant he had to have some lieutenants. And the fact that Topher _didn_ _'_ _t_ know about that was interesting. Three brothers. Three pot shops. Three rivers.

Three leaders? Still?

The three major rivers of Toronto were the Don, the Humber, and the Rogue. Gail was aware her daughter had a theory that the name was tied into the Don and its tributaries. Steve's idea was that it was related to the three brothers. But Gail... Well she remembered her trips through Europe as a teenager.

One of the kinds of stories she'd heard over and over again was how such-and-such street was named for a river that dried up or was diverted. And there were thousands of towns and cities where there were three rivers joined. Of those cities, how many had lost the smaller rivers and now where only known for one or two? Some, like the one she'd seen in Los Angeles, was barely a river at all. Or what if it was stupid simple and they came from Trois-Rivieres over in Quebec?

Of course there was the other idea. What if the symbolism of the Three Rivers gangs pulling all the little guys back in wasn't so much symbolism but fact. Steve had told her time and again how a crew didn't name gangs on a whim, they did it because it had a feel. A vibe. A character. They held on to their names when the names had meanings.

But if she pushed that metaphor further, there was the idea that perhaps the river being underground had merit. Many of Toronto's rivers were like that now. They'd dried up and vanished, only to revert to underground streams.

Gail groaned and covered her face. She was getting too deep into the meaning for people who thought using ambulances for body dumps were the height of brilliance.

"That's not a good sound," remarked Holly, leaning in the doorway,

"I'm stuck," Gail sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "What brings you to my building?"

Waving a blue folder, Holly came in and closed the door. "The courier was sick, or something," she said and smiled that awkward little grin that Gail loved.

There was no way Gail wouldn't smile back at that one. With a grin she held out a hand and Holly gave her the files as well as a mostly chaste kiss. "I love it when he's sick."

"I have a meeting with your Lt. Brown. I thought we could do lunch after? You know you think better when you're fueled."

"Did you bring your lunchbox?"

Holly held up her little lunchbox. "Of course. My sexy wife filled it with leftovers from her latest attempt at Belgian food."

They'd had rabbit that weekend and, weirdly, had leftovers. "One bunny too many," mused Gail. She'd worried that Holly, the soft heart, would have issue with the dish, but it was Vivian who'd declined the fancy feast and made a sandwich instead.

"It was wild hare, and we have an infestation," Holly remarked.

Gail took the lunchbox and stashed it beside her own in her mini fridge. "Well that is entirely true. What lab work did you fake to bring over?"

"The idiot you were interrogating this morning? Had a laced doobie."

"Your age is showing, Doc. I don't think anyone besides our moms call it that anymore," teased Gail.

With a huff, Holly flipped open the results. "No one asked your opinion, Peck. The Fentanyl matches the second batch of your stuff."

That was good. Gail pulled up the earlier results. "Huh. Maybe they just switched brands. I'm going to have one of my guys run that down. What if a pharmco changed their formula by coincidence?"

"I thought you didn't believe in coincidence," muttered Holly.

"I don't. But I believe in lazy ass losers. Go chat with Brown, I'll do this, then we can eat outside?"

"Have I mentioned how sexy it is that you have an office?" Holly leaned across the desk and kissed Gail again, a little less chastely than before. "And I _really_ like all that swag on your dress uniform."

Gail snorted. "Never call it that again." She stood up and walked around the desk to get a proper hug and kiss from her wife and escort her to the elevator. On her way back, she eyed the room of detectives. "Reyes. Go find your partner and meet me in my office. I have some work for you."

It was nice to have minions to send out to do the dirty work, sometimes.

* * *

"Beer, bratwurst, and behinds," muttered Vivian as she got into Gail's car.

"Oh, you had Oktoberfest?" Her mother laughed. "That always brings out the full moon."

"We arrested four guys who were mooning the great apes and slapping their butt cheeks!"

Gail held a straight face for a moment and then laughed. "Wow. What did the monkeys do?"

"They slapped their asses right back." Vivian grinned. "I got it on video. Dov said it was going to be on the news." She and Jenny had just stared for a moment, unable to believe what they were seeing. They let it go on longer than they should have, until the zookeeper said it was probably about to become a display of aggression and the apes would start throwing poop.

"Ooooooh," teased the blonde. "Did you get interviewed?"

Vivian flipped her mother off and leaned back. The zoo had been interesting. Jenny had pointed out all the spots she went to with her parents, and how she used to spend hours watching the meerkats. Most of the time, Vivian had gone to museums. "Hey, how long has Mom had depression?"

"A while. Why?"

"I was thinking about when I went to the zoo for school and she burst out crying." Vivian propped her feet up on the dashboard.

Gail smiled. "That's not related. She's always hated zoos, kiddo. But. Good call. Don't tell her where you were."

"Not exactly where I was going," mused Vivian.

Her mother glanced over. "Oh? Still thinking about the stuff we inherit?"

"Yeah, that."

There was a little pause. "You know, it didn't surprise me." Gail sighed a little. "I mean, she's an only child for a reason. Lily had real bad postpartum depression, and Brian... Well he's like me a little. So I was kinda waiting for it."

"That... That's really sad, Mom."

"Sad? I don't see it that way at all, Viv. See... I love your mom. Being ready for what might happen, knowing what to expect, means I can be ready to take care of her. Your mom's always there for me, every time I need her. Every time I ever called, she was there. It's the least I can do to be there for her when she needs me."

And like that, Gail had taken something simple and sad and turned it into a drop dead romantic comment that made you realize how much she cared. Maybe it wouldn't be so powerful if Gail acted like she liked people more often. Gail tolerated most people, distrusted them, and relied on very few. But that was why Gail's hugs, when you were sad or scared, were the best.

Vivian looked at her shoes for a while. "Okay. That's better."

"Glad my adoration of my wife meets your approval." They both chuckled. "We're picking up meat from the butcher. Greek chicken and lemon potatoes."

"Hummus? Oh, and that eggplant thing?"

"Melitzanosalata?" Gail nodded. "Yeah. And some pita. We can whip that up while-" Her phone rang and Gail held a finger up to Vivian. It was a work call. The rule was that Viv was allowed to listen in on these calls, but she had to be silent. "Siri. Answer phone." The phone beeped over the car speakers. "Peck, I'm driving."

"Hey, boss, it's Pedro."

"Pedro. What'd you find about Blue?"

"Little Boy Blue is legally Simon Montrose, which ain't the name our wit gave up. Mom's Eva, dad is unknown. Moved to Michigan when he was eight, which is when Bobby Z. went into WitSec."

The frown on Gail's face was telling. She didn't like this story. "How close to when?"

"A week after Bobby was picked up by... Uh... Shaw and Peck- oh." Pedro laughed awkwardly. "I'm going to skip over that."

Gail glanced at Vivian with a smirk. "Yeah, did he do college as Montrose?"

"No, he went as Anson Russ. Then he used the name Rick Murray when he moved back to Toronto-"

"Wait!" Gail slapped the steering wheel. "Pedro, the name Topher gave us, James Yorke. Did you run a _full_ check on it?"

"Yeah but-"

"Middle name is Tiberius?"

There was a pause. "How the fuck... I mean, uh, yeah. Yeah it is." Pedro sounded mystified.

"That son of a ... Okay, look up Campbell Saunders, Campbell with a P, and Adam Torres. Get me their histories. Same age and patterns as the others. See if you can string a history of when he's swapping names and why."

"Sure thing. Tonight?"

"No. Start tomorrow, but I want this at the top of your priority list, Pedro."

"Right."

"Anything special you think I need to know right away?"

Pedro hesitated. "His mom's dead. Cancer. And Topher's mother is related to Zanaro. Turns out Bobby senior's uncles all had daughters. So he's, like, the youngest son of the youngest Zanaro who founded the gang."

"Any luck getting a bead on the girls?"

Another hesitation. "Kinda. I figured you'd want to know who was about Blue's age and still in town. But the oldest one, Bobby Sr.'s cousin, is in Barrie, teaching English, and her kids are hell to breakfast."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Pedro. Which ones are in Toronto?"

"So far I found one. Her mom is the daughter of Barry, the eldest brother of Bobby Sr... Jesus this is fucked up boss. Anyway, she's still in town, works for an accountant named Reynolds. Should I bring her in...?"

"No. Not yet. Just keep tabs on her. See if she has any gang ties. Get Steve to loan you someone to help."

"You got it, boss."

As the phone disconnected, Gail pulled into the butcher's parking lot with a shit eating grin. "You catch the names, kid?"

Vivian frowned. "James Tiberius Yorke? Adam Torres- wait a second. Are those all people who died on _Degrassi_?"

"Whatever it takes, apparently."

That was all the information Vivian got about the gang case. Sometimes she thought that all cases were solved quickly, like the time Gail and John solved their famous Khan killer case in a long weekend. But the reality was that most cases took weeks and months, if not years, because they had to find the information and then build up the proof slowly and carefully.

Being a cop was mostly paperwork and boring, separated by moments of sheer terror. That was what Oliver told her. He told her about how she'd miss things in life, like how he'd not seen Izzy's home runs in school. Vivian knew that. There had been times Gail had missed her school events, like the play, because she had to work. And the same was true for Holly, who missed the first soccer game Vivian started as a striker.

Sometimes a person sacrificed themselves to be a part of something bigger.

She was an idealist sometimes and a realist the rest of the time. Oliver came from a good, safe place. His parents were nice, caring, people. His kids were nice, wholesome kids. Except Izzy. She was the mild delinquent who had done drugs and made some shitty choices as a teen. But Jerry was sweet and honest and adorable.

The things about being a cop that ate at Oliver weren't the ones that would eat Vivian, and she knew it. He was eaten alive when people betrayed him. She expected it, and was still confused and surprised that her classmates had her back. That was something Dov told her would happen, but stronger than that was the story he'd told about the time none of them had Gail's back and she took a fall for them.

That was the reality Vivian expected. Cops were people and people were venal and selfish and scared. People made mistakes. And sometimes, less often than the news would have you believe, people died because of mistakes.

That's what ate at Vivian. The fear of her mistakes hurting people. The fear that if people knew the potential ticking time bomb within her, the possible insanity, that she'd lose what she wanted. And that was simple. She wanted no one to feel the way she had when she found her birth family dead.

Maybe she should have gone into social work, like Sophie.

"4727, Dispatch."

Her radio startled her. She was supposed to be patrolling by the former elephant dens. They were in some weird status after it was determined that penned elephants was cruelty. Holly would have said 'no shit!' to that. The staff mentioned they were expanding the area to allow the nearby animals to have more room. None of which was the point. "Dispatch, 4727."

"4749 needs assistance by the ice cream stand," explained Dispatch, sounding very close to laughter.

Vivian smiled. "Copy, I'm on my way." If Dispatch was laughing then it couldn't be all bad. Or even partly bad. Vivian pulled the map out of her pocket and double checked the route to the ice cream stand. When she got there, Vivian actually snorted a laugh.

Jenny was surrounded by children. They all wore the sweatshirt of a private elementary school Vivian remembered playing sports against at one point in time. And they were all clamoring. No, they were yelling at Jenny about how they were alone. And they were not listening to her at all. "One word, Peck, one word..."

It was hard not to grin. "Where's their teacher?"

"Thank you, Officer Obvious," snapped Jenny.

One of the kids eyed them. "Her name tag says Peck. Officer Friendly is a Peck too." The young boy eyed her. "Are you related?"

There was one Peck who did Officer Friendly work. "That's my cousin," confirmed Vivian. "Short guy, blonde hair, real pale?" The kid nodded. "His name's Freddie, with an ie."

The boy smiled. "How can you be cousins if you don't look alike?"

"We're distant cousins. My grandfather and his grandfather were cousins first." She glanced around. "Freddie's the shortest of all of us."

That made the boy laugh, and some of his friends stopped arguing about what they were supposed to do. "Are you all cops?"

"Almost," she nodded. "I have another cousin who's a firefighter."

A young girl chimed in. "Did you always want to be a cop?"

"Pretty much. What about you guys? Firefighters or cops?" A couple hands went up. "I'll tell you a secret. Firefighters suck at softball." The children laughed at her. "So hey, what's up with you guys being on your own?"

"Mrs. Herrick went to the bathroom like an _hour_ ago!" The boy who'd befriended her first was chatty. "She said to wait here."

Ten kids. One teacher? "Where's her assistant?" They kids startled. "Come on, we're coppers. We're supposed to be smart," grinned Vivian. "There should be another teacher with her."

"Mr. Clemons was sick," explained a girl. "But we're the best behaving class, so Mrs. Herrick said we could go if we behaved."

"And if we don't, we don't get to go on any more excursions this year," said the boy.

"Well. Okay, Aronson, why don't you check the bathroom for the teacher, and I'll stay here."

Jenny looked astounded at Vivian. "How the... How come they listen to you?"

"Peck secret. Kids love us." Vivian, tapped her radio. "Dispatch, 4727. I got ten school kids and a possibly missing teacher." She rattled off the school information and teacher name.

"Copy that, 4727. We'll contact the school."

The kids heard that and groaned. "Sorry, kids. There are drunk idiots here. Can't let you run around without a grown up." She thumbed her radio. "Copy, Dispatch. Hold on backup, please."

The chatty boy sighed. "This sucks. We didn't get to see the snakes yet."

"Snakes, huh?" Vivian smiled. "Did you at least get ice cream?" They all shook their heads. "See, now _that_ really sucks. I can't have any until my lunch."

Her radio crackled. "This is 4749." Jenny was on the radio and she sounded a little freaked. That wasn't good. Was the teacher in need of medical assistance? No, it was something worse. "10-33. I have a 10-100 here."

Vivian blinked. She knew that code. That was the code Oliver used in the story about how Gail sat on a car bomb. Oh. Oh _fuck_. "4749, this is 4727. Copy. Dispatch, 10-78." Her voice was calm. How the hell was her voice calm? "Please update the school."

"4749, Dispatch. Copy. Switch to channel 8. 4727, two units on their way."

As much as she wanted to switch channels, Vivian did not. "Copy." She looked at the kids. "I got bad news, guys." All the kids groaned again. "Yeah, I know. My partner's in there, taking care of your teacher. We're gonna have to get you guys home."

Immediately they started throwing questions at her.

"Is she sick?"

"What's a 10-100?"

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Is she dead?"

One kid even pulled out his phone. Shit. Anyone could google that stuff.

Vivian cleared her throat. "10-100 is a special code to tell us what kind of help we need. It's faster than saying things like how we need a specific team with tools to help someone stuck in a well." The kid with the phone looked up. "Here's what's going to happen. Some of my friends, they're going to come and escort you guys away, back to your bus. They're gonna wait with you till the driver and a teacher show up to take you back to school. What I need you guys to do is check your bags, make sure you have all your stuff, and get ready."

Most of the kids did so right away. They really were well behaved. The chatty boy frowned. "Can't _you_ stay with us?"

"I would, but that other officer is my partner," Vivian explained. "We have to stick together. That way, if she needs my help, I'm right here."

"But you weren't together before, when she found us." He was smart.

"I was here in a minute," Vivian pointed out. "If I go with you guys, I'll be too far away."

That seemed to work. To Vivian's relief, the backup was Andy and Nick and their partners. Andy took the kids, Nick took charge of clearing the area. And Vivian... Well. She didn't lie to the kids. Jenny was her partner. She flipped to channel 8 and started for the bathroom.

"Hey, Peck," Nick called at her. "What're you doing?"

"I'm going to help my partner, Collins. That's my job, right?"

He studied her face and nodded. "Don't touch anything."

"No shit," she snorted and went in. "Hey, Jenny?" Vivian rounded the corner and saw Jenny standing by a terrified woman at the sink. A kid's backpack was on the edge, and the woman had one hand in it. "Hi. You're Mrs. Herrick?" The woman nodded. "Your kids are fine. We've got officers taking them back to the bus."

Mrs. Herrick exhaled loudly. "Thank god. I can't believe none of them came in here..."

Vivian smiled. "Funny story. They said you told them to stay there, and they didn't want to lose field trips for the rest of the year." The teacher laughed a little shakily.

Jenny looked appreciative. "See? It's all okay. Now, can you let me look?"

The teacher hadn't let her look yet? That wasn't good. How did they know it was a bomb? Mrs. Herrick used her free hand to open the bag up. Both Vivian and Jenny leaned over. "I thought it was one of my kids' bags. So I picked it up and checked and..."

Jenny's eyes were wide. "Yeah... No. You did the right thing. Where's your phone?"

The teacher's hand was on the pipe. "I was afraid to use it. I've seen movies where that sets it off."

"No, it would have to be a special number that calls it," promised Vivian. She thumbed her radio. "This is 4727. It's a backpack pipe bomb," Vivian reported. "Looks like a remote detonator, or time. Not pressure sensitive. Subject has her hand on the pipe."

"Copy that, 4727. ETF is five out. Don't move it."

Muttering no shit, Vivian acknowledged the direction more calmly. "Don't worry. Our ETF guys are the best." Vivian pulled her phone out and took photos, texting them to Nick. They'd all had to study bombs some in the academy. Every one of them could recognize the common types of IEDs, or at least they could when they'd graduated. Remembering them months later was a different story for most of them. Still, Vivian was pretty sure the teacher could let go and be fine, which she texted to Nick as well.

His reply was to not fucking mess with the bomb. Nick was such a pain in the ass sometimes.

"You guys do this every day?" The teacher was shaking.

Jenny laughed softly. "First time," she admitted. "And it's Peck's second time to the zoo ever."

It wasn't true, but the joke made Mrs. Herrick laugh a little. The tension bled off her shoulders. "It's Ms. Herrick," she noted. "Melanie Herrick. Mel. The kids call everyone Mrs or Mr."

"So no Mr. Herrick to call?" Jenny kept her voice light.

"No Mrs. Herrick either," sighed Mel. "Sorry. I just ... I don't want to die in the closet."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Well. You're not gonna die, Mel. The head of ETF? Her name's Sue Tran, and she's the biggest badass you'll ever meet. Cool as a cucumber, and her guys are the best."

The teacher swallowed. "Yeah? You work with them?"

"I go running with them all the time. They're sick fit." Vivian smiled. "Okay? You can totally trust me."

"I don't know. You don't go to the zoo." There was a pause and they all chuckled.

The first rule was to keep the victim calm. If poking fun helped, then that's what they'd do. "It's my Mom's fault. She cries at zoos," explained Vivian. "Those animal commercials? You know the ones with Sarah McLachlan music? Waterworks."

Mel sniffled. "Oh I can't watch that commercial. It's just, oh god."

"We have to change the channel or turn off the sound," sighed Vivian, dramatically.

"I can't watch it either," admitted Jenny.

They kept talking, trying to keep everyone calm, until the door opened. "Hello? It's Lt. Tran."

Thank god. "Hey, Loo." Vivian smiled. "See? Lt. Tran's a total badass."

Sue saw Vivian and nodded. "Peck... Good. You took the photos?"

"Yes, ma'am," nodded Vivian. She'd had a totally horrid crush on Sue as a young girl. Gail had found it amusing, but that was Gail for you. Now, Vivian just had a healthy respect for Sue and her work. "Looks like a standard issue backpack bomb. Remote detonator is my guess."

Nodding, Sue walked up to Mel. "Hella bad luck, huh? Okay, Peck, Aronson, you get out of here."

Mel stiffened. "What? Do they have to?"

The lieutenant looked between Mel and the rookies. "They're not trained in this." Sue gently rested a hand on Mel's shoulder. "But you're gonna go with them. Okay?" Flashing a hand sign, Sue indicated that she wanted someone to catch.

Vivian mostly understood the ETF hand signs. They needed someone to escort Mel out, which meant it was safe to let go. "Jenny, hold the door open, okay?" Vivian kept her voice low.

Her partner nodded. "We're clear, Lieutenant."

Her voice calm and steady, Sue explained. "Okay, Mrs. Herrick-"

"Mel," grimaced Mel. "Please."

"Okay, Mel. I'm Sue. You're gonna let me get a hold of the bag and then you're going to let go. Okay?" Mel nodded and Vivian carefully stepped closer. "Peck's going to take you outside as soon as that's over, and you're gonna be fine." Again, Mel nodded.

Vivian watched as Sue took a hold of the bag and nodded at her. Not Mel. Vivian. "Mel, let go slowly," coached Vivian, quietly. "Okay? Just relax your hands. There you go. And take a step back."

As Mel moved back, Vivian took hold of her upper arms. "Oh my god." Mel went wobbly and her knees started to give out.

Which was exactly why Sue wanted her to be there. "I got you," soothed Vivian, catching hold and supporting Mel. "Just lean on me. See we're walking backwards." She all but carried Mel out, past Jenny.

The other ETF agents were waiting. "All clear," said Jenny, her voice shaking.

"Get behind the zone," ordered Duane. It didn't matter than Vivian had beat him on their silly course the week before. This was a case and it was his domain. "Okay, Sabrina, all clear. Robby is a go."

As much as Vivian wanted to stay and see what they were going to do with Robby the robot, she and Jenny took Mel beyond the blast zone and to safety. They got her to the EMTs, who wrapped her in a blanket and took her vitals.

"Feel brave now, Peck?" McNally. And she wasn't happy.

"Feel like I was there for my partner, ma'am," she muttered. Glancing over, she saw Nick talking to Jenny. "Isn't that my job?"

McNally grimaced. "Running head long into danger?"

"It wasn't... Ma'am, it wasn't running into danger."

"Really? What was it? Because it looked like you went and hung out with a bomb."

Okay. It did look like that. "First rule is to keep the person calm." When McNally eyed her, confused, Vivian went on. "When you have someone on a possible explosive device, you keep 'em calm to prevent accidental discharge. I thought- I knew I could help Jenny stay calm, and that'd help Ms. Herrick."

The older officer sighed and pinched her nose. "You're going to be the death of me."

Vivian smiled sadly. "I'm not trying to, McNally."

"I know. You're trying to be a good copper." She shook her head. "Nick said you gave him details on the bomb. How'd you know that stuff?"

"School. I had to memorize all that crazy mechanical stuff. It's the same thing." Vivian shrugged.

Before McNally could reply, there was a muffled explosion. Everyone looked at the bathroom, where Sue and Sabrina were walking out of, laughing. "Damn crazy ..."

"All clear," said Sue, waving over. "McNally, bring Peck over here."

Shaking her head, McNally slapped a hand on Vivian's shoulder and steered her over. "I'll tell Dov and Gail you did the right thing, but Holly's going to read you the riot act."

Vivian winced. "I never thought I'd miss the days when Gail went mental over a soccer game." Once, and only once, had Gail lost it over a game. The defender had been half again the height of pre-teen Vivian (not that it had taken much at that age) and sent her flying with a head-on collision. Four stitches and a decade later, Gail was still coming up with ways to inflict revenge on the other girl.

"Shoulda thought of that before you put on the uniform." McNally was not comforting. "Hey, Sue."

"Hey, Andy. Hey, rookie."

Vivian smiled, feeling more shy than normal. Okay, fine, she still had a mix of an awkward childish crush and a healthy dose of hero worship for Sue. "Hi, Lieutenant." Behind the ETF boss were Viv's friends, Duane and Sabrina. They were smiling.

Holding up her phone, Sue showed a better picture of the bomb. "What do you see, Peck?"

There was an obvious answer. It was a bomb. She narrowed her eyes at the picture. They played all sorts of weird games at home, like memorizing license plates and spotting things that didn't match. Gail usually won, Steve and Elaine vied for second place, and Vivian pulled up tail end Charlie, _except_ in one case. Photos that were side by side, and you had to spot the difference, she sucked at. Diagrams and maps and designs, she kicked everyone's ass.

It was probably because of those engineering classes.

Her brain pulled up the examples of the pipe bombs they'd been shown in class. The wiring was pretty standard. Movies aside, a bomber didn't fuck around with wiring. No sane person experimented or screwed with the plan. They did it the same way, every time, and they made sure it was the same.

"The phone's a fake," she blinked and looked up at Sue. "I couldn't see from the front, but right there..." She tapped the phone. "That's not a real wire."

Andy leaned over her shoulder, making a surprised noise. "How can you tell?"

"The lead's wrong. If you actually had that wire cross over, the risk of a spark triples and ... Um ... Well you could blow up early."

Sue was grinning ear to ear. "Your teacher wasn't in much danger. The fuse literally needed to be lit. We blew it up in the blast box. Give the lab some fun to find prints and shit."

Both Vivian and Andy made faces. Vivian guessed, "Maybe the bomber was going back?"

"Maybe the teacher is the bomber," offered Andy. They both glanced over at the scared woman. "Right. Go talk to her. She likes you."

As McNally clapped her shoulder, Vivian scowled. "You don't really think..."

"Hey, little rookie? Go do what I said. Talk to her. Ask her about how she found it."

Vivian nodded and turned to go. As she crossed the tape, Sue called out. "Hey, Little Peck? Good job."

At least she had that going for her.

* * *

Most of the time Holly felt that she was reasonable about her wife's job. Back in the beginning, when they'd been dating and she's heard Gail was shot at, she'd crumbled and broken. When Gail had nearly been blown up, she'd fractured. And of course, when Gail went undercover, she'd fallen apart and needed her wife to keep her together.

But being reasonable about their daughter in similar situations was a lot harder. Holly had thought that since she could handle Gail in peril, as long as she found out about it after the fact, the same would be true of Vivian. It so, so, wasn't.

"You went in with the bomb!?"

"Mom, it wasn't like that," Vivian repeated. "It was ... I couldn't leave Jenny in there alone. The probability of an incident goes up if you can't keep the victim calm."

"Oh and why couldn't Jenny?"

"She was my _partner_ , Mom! It's my job to go out there!"

There was something in Vivian's tone that reminded her of Gail. Holly heard the same semi-incredulity in her daughter's voice. "I can't... Viv, I can't be reasonable about this right now," managed Holly, fighting down the anger and fear.

"No shit." Her daughter was pissed. "You know, if it was Mom, you'd be mad, but you wouldn't lose your shit."

Untrue. Totally, undeniably, untrue. The words 'go to your room' hovered on Holly's lips and yet she managed to press them together, tightly, and not say it. Vivian was 23. She was an adult. She may still be living at home with her parents, but she was not a child. As much as it hurt Holly, Vivian was a mature, responsible, fucking irritating, grown up. "I," Holly said slowly. "I am going to the office." Somehow she managed not to snap. "Do you need anything?"

Vivian looked startled. "Mom..." Maybe she could tell she'd pushed a little too far.

"No. Viv. No, I love you, but I'm walking away before I say something I don't mean." She waved a finger towards Vivian and turned, taking herself upstairs.

There was nothing said from below. Vivian was, apparently, silent and still. She loved her daughter. And it wasn't that Holly didn't know she was being a little unreasonable. These feelings she had, the tightness in her chest when Vivian had casually mentioned that she'd been on site for the bomb scare at the zoo, the rush of delayed terror as she realized her child had held a woman's hand and guided her away, that Vivian had been right there, they weren't new.

She'd felt all this before, over and over, with Gail. Gail who had been shot at, stopped a radio with her face, sat on a bomb, talked down a knife wielding kidnapper who didn't speak English, and a hundred other things... It had been twenty years. She knew Gail's job was important to her. She knew this was the life her wife would probably always have.

And now, here, Holly felt like she understood why Elaine had been so against Vivian joining the family business. The Peck family business. It wasn't just the fact that she would have to bear the weight of the name Peck, it was that _Holly_ had to deal with her daughter in danger.

Holly sat on the couch in the office and covered her face. She'd been the one who defended Vivian's choice. When the Pecks, en masse, had protested and said Vivian could be anything she wanted, Holly had pointed out that being a cop was what she wanted.

The door creaked open. Holly looked up as a blonde head popped in. "Hey. Can I come in or are you still processing?"

"I may say stupid things," sighed Holly.

"Well, that is one of the best bennies about being married, sweetheart. I know what you mean, even when you're talking stupid." Gail came in and closed the door. "She's sorry, by the way."

"What for?"

"The bit about how if it was me, you wouldn't be so upset."

Holly watched Gail put away her backup gun and badge. The service piece was probably in the small safe in the bedroom. "She's almost right," she noted. "I'm sort of used to you in harms way."

Her wife glanced over her shoulder. "No you're not. You tolerate it. It scares the shit out of you." With a little more feeling than normal, Gail closed the gun safe and sat beside Holly. "Sue called me about it."

They settled into each other comfortably, Holly resting her head on Gail's shoulder, Gail's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? What did Sue say?"

"Our kid is smart and calm under pressure. She also has memorized bombs better than most rooks." Gail seemingly absently brushed Holly's hair away from her ear. But the way her fingers lingered, it was clear Gail was trying to be soothing. "ETF really likes her."

There was an undertone to Gail's words. Holly hadn't worked with cops and lived with a Peck this long to not know what she meant. "Oh crap." Vivian in ETF?

"Better than sex crimes I guess," sighed Gail, her cheek resting on Holly's temple. "Why couldn't she do Mounted Patrol? She likes horses."

Holly pressed her face into the hollow of Gail's shoulder. "It's not a done deal. She wants to be like Oliver."

Her wife snorted. "That was six years ago, sweetheart." Gail's voice was soft and a little tired. "I don't like it either," she whispered.

"It's her job to go back out there and put herself in danger."

There was a brief pause and Gail laughed softly. "Yeah. Yeah it is." She kissed Holly's forehead. "Wanna eat up here and avoid the kid?"

In a way she did. In another she didn't. Holly nestled against Gail, drinking in her comfort and steadiness. "What are you making for dinner."

"Seeing as I was up early, I was planning on poisson meunière."

Holly knew that one. Fish with lemon and brown butter. "Sides?"

"Boiled new potatoes, light salad."

While Holly loved the fish, Vivian loved potatoes. "Peacemaker." Holly sat up and kissed Gail softly. It was too inviting and she took a light hold of Gail's cheeks, keeping her in place to kiss again. She felt Gail's smile against her own lips and couldn't help but smile back.

"I try," admitted Gail, kissing her one more time.

Holly went downstairs first, knowing Gail was probably going to change out of her work clothes first. Seated in the comfy chair was Vivian, watching the news. "Anything new out there?"

"Gas prices are going up. Pipeline from up north is on strike."

"Cheerful." Holly leaned on the back of the chair. "Hey, I'm sorry."

Vivian craned her neck. "You're sorry? Mom..."

"You're allowed to be sorry too, it's not mutually exclusive."

Her brown haired child smiled a little abashedly. "I'm sorry I scared you. I don't know... I don't know how not to. How does Mom?"

With a sigh, Holly ruffled Vivian's hair. "She doesn't."

"Seriously? When ... You don't- I've never seen you freak out about Mom."

She was probably thinking about times like when Gail had gone undercover. "Honey, you're my _kid_." Holly let her hand still on Vivian's head and then rested her cheek on the back of her hand. "We're supposed to take care of you. Protect you."

Vivian sighed. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. I'm ... I want to carry the load with you guys."

They'd raised a thoughtful, caring child. "When you were younger, we tried to not let you see us panic." Holly's confession hung in the air. "You know how scared Gail was when I was sick. I was just as terrified when she went missing undercover."

"Yeah?" Vivian didn't move.

"Yeah. It's really hard to let you go sometimes," she told Vivian quietly.

There was a click of a camera and they both looked over to see Gail holding her phone. "Sorry, you guys look cute." Vivian flipped off her mother, to Holly's amusement. "Watch the news, my nerds. I've got dinner."

"I'm getting drinks," announced Holly. "Can we have beer?"

Gail looked appalled. "With this fish?"

"What? It's the bread dredged fish, so ... Fish and chips?"

Her wife was horrified. "Get the hell out of my kitchen! You ... You're a caveman, Holly! This is a delicate fish! It's flaky, it's tender, and it goes with a fucking white wine!" Gail threw her hands up and stomped into the kitchen. "A dry, floral, wine. Next thing, Viv'll ask for a damn Pepsi!"

Vivian giggled. "Orange juice?" Gail hissed at them both and ignored them, making a rattle in the kitchen. "We made Mom mad," she whispered.

"Mom's pretty stuck up about food," Holly whispered back. "She's kind of a princess."

The girl laughed. "Sometimes they call her the Ice Queen at work," she noted. Then she startled and reached into her pocket, pulling out her buzzing phone. "It's Mel."

Holly's eyebrows went up. "Who's Mel?"

"Mel Herrick. She's the teacher who had the bomb..." Vivian hesitated and then tapped her phone. "Peck," she said carefully, clearly trying to be firm like Gail was when she said that, but missing the mark. "Yes, no, no, hi, Mel. I gave you my card, it's fine."

Smiling at her daughter, Holly was surprised when Vivian glanced at her. Then Vivian turned away, a curious color creeping up her neck. Oh Ho Ho. Holly got up and went into the kitchen. "Hey, honey, what's the department policy on dating people you meet at work? Like suspects and victims?"

Gail blinked. "Well. Oliver met Celery because she was robbed. Dov dated a drug dealers ex, though, and nearly blew up one of Boyd's big cases." She frowned. "Why?"

"I _think_ Vivian is being asked out by the woman she helped today."

They both turned to look at their daughter. With her short hair, nearly Gail's level of shortness, the back of Vivian's neck was visible. It was slightly red. "Oh," smirked Gail. "Get out the Sauvignon Blanc, please."

Already? "That was fast," mused Holly, but Gail already had the potatoes drained.

"I started the boil before I came upstairs."

"You're very smart." Holly kissed her and went to the fridge for the bottle they'd started already. As she poured three glasses, Vivian came over looking confused and collected the plates. "Our mini-human looks confounded," she told Gail.

The blonde smirked. "She does. Monkey, why are you so confused?"

"Uh. Well she- the teacher from the, uh, the thing-"

"The bomb scare," suggested Holly.

"Right. Her. She asked me out."

Gail looked amused. "Was she cleared?"

"Yeah." Vivian looked between her mothers. "You're both smiling at me. That's creepy. Stop."

Flipping the fish, Gail gestured to Vivian. "Plates, please. When did she want to go out? Tonight?"

Vivian shook her head. "Tomorrow." She eyed Gail a little more. "It's okay?"

"Given that I met your mom at a crime scene, I'm not one to talk." Gail sniffed the brown butter and smiled. "As long as she's not a suspect, it's fine, though you should wait for the case to be closed."

With a sigh, Vivian leaned on the counter. "It's a bomb case. Unless the lab finds a print or a match to the innards, we got nothing." There was a pause and both her cops turned to look at Holly.

"Not my specialty," she pointed out. "But I promise it's being worked on."

Vivian folded her arms on the counter and rested her head on them. "What's the use of being the daughter of the country's greatest forensic pathologist if she can't rush labs for you."

Laughing brightly, Gail plated the fish. "Can't rush polymer chain reactions, kiddo. Three wine glasses please, unless you're running off for a date."

Their daughter blushed as she fetched the glasses. Gail handed Holly a plate and carried the other two over. "Look at her, all grown up," teased Holly. The young woman was still a little shy and awkward. Watching her navigate the dating world felt like Holly was watching herself at the same ages. Nothing but bad luck and tripping over her own feet.

The plates clinked on the table and Gail sighed. Holly knew that sigh. Once in a great while Gail would muse how different Viv would be if she'd been their biological daughter. Would the mirroring of themselves be more or less obvious. How much of them would be in her. "You know, she has 1504 this week."

Holly snorted. "You know very well there no such thing as curses, Gail Peck."

"Really? I was in 1504 when we broke up," she teased, and Holly slapped her butt. "And Sam got it shot up. And Andy lost a tire."

"No such thing as a curse, Peck!" But Holly was laughing.

She was still a little upset at her daughter being in danger, and she was likely always going not be scared about it. But she trusted two things above all. Holly trusted Gail to have taught Vivian well, to make sure their child knew the reality about her job. And Holly trusted Vivian to be smart, because their girl was, above all else, a smart cookie.

If only Vivian was as smart about her heart.

* * *

The restaurant was nice, though not super fancy. That was good, since Vivian was in her motorcycle jacket. Holly had insisted she wear it, with elbow-pads and everything, any time she went riding. The problem with the restaurant being nice and not fancy was that there was no coat check, so she had to bring the helmet with her to the table.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. I had to finish a report," Vivian smiled, trying to affect the same casualness she saw in Gail when sauntering around.

"About motorcycles?" Mel gestured at the helmet.

Vivian laughed, awkwardly. "No, no, I, um... It's mine." The teacher's eyebrows rose. "Yes, I know. Stereotypes. The lesbian has a motorcycle."

Smiling brightly, Mel gestured at the chair. "Well I guess that answers if you thought this was a friend date or not."

"I have no idea," admitted Vivian. "But my mom pointed out I'm pretty dense about this."

"Your mom know you're on a date?"

"I live with my parents," she explained. If there was going to be fallout from that, let it be early on.

But all Mel asked was, "They're okay with you being a cop?"

"It's a family job. Pecks have been cops in Toronto for as long as Toronto's had cops." She shrugged and smiled up at the waiter. "I haven't even looked, sorry. May I have an iced tea?"

Mel blushed. "I should have looked too... My friend said this was a great tapas place. Do you like tapas? I really love it. I want to go to Spain one day and have _real_ tapas."

Oh yeah. This was a date. "Drink?"

The blush on Mel's face got worse. "Uh. Coke. Coke Zero." Reminding Mel to have a drink bought her some time to figure out what to talk about. The idea was one supposed to talk with dates about things, not just let them talk. That was something Liv had complained about.

The waiter smiled at both of them. "I'll just give you a minute." He winked and vanished as quickly as he'd arrived.

Vivian glanced at the menu to buy herself more time and saw chorizo, among other things. That little bit of Gail in her heart cropped up. "Did I mention I was a vegetarian?" Vivian smiled just a little, laying a hint that she was kidding.

There was a moment of panic from Mel and then she broke out laughing. "Oh my god, you had me going for a second."

"I really like chorizo," grinned Vivian. "But I adore potatoes. And there are tons of vegetarian options here."

They chatted about food a little (success!) and made their orders. The waiter put down bread and olive oil along with their drinks. "Can I tell you a secret? I hate ordering first."

Vivian blinked. "What? Like food?" When Mel nodded, Vivian asked the obvious. "Why's that?"

"I'm always afraid I'll pick the wrong thing. Like if you ordered beer, then I would. But you did a tea and so I can't pick beer because it'll be weird."

"That was incredibly ... You overthink a lot. Do people tell you that?"

Mel sighed. "Constantly."

It was kind of cute. "I have to be at work, in uniform, pretty early. They want us on site for the opening of Oktoberfest all week. So, while I would love a beer or some vino, I'm waiting till end of shift this week."

"How does that work? I mean, you can't work Monday through Friday, can you?"

"No, we have a rotating shift. It's ... What subject do you teach? It's kinda like a word problem."

Mel grinned. "Social Studies. But I think I can follow."

"Hah. Okay, so if you're a detective, you can work just weekdays and be on call for weekends." The whole time Vivian had lived with Gail, she'd been a detective, so she'd had 'normal' hours. "Rookie uniforms, like me, work 8-12 hour shifts. We have five days on, three off. Then it's four on, two off. Three on, four off. It cycles around five weeks so sometimes we have weekends and sometimes we don't." It got messier with holidays and adjustments for night work. Vivian was sure a supercomputer was used to keep it all straight.

Looking a little enlightened, Mel asked, "When are your off days?"

That was bold. "Sunday and Monday. But if I have court, then they're not really off days."

"Will you? Have court I mean."

"Depends on if we catch... Um. Well you know. The backpack thing." That was not something to really talk about at dinner.

Mel's eyes widened. "Do you have a ..." She stopped and looked around before leaning forward. "A suspect?"

It was endearingly naive. "I can't talk about that," she pointed out, smiling. Smile. Keep smiling. People wanted a girl to smile on a date. "Social Studies, huh? How'd you get stuck at the zoo with a horde of kids alone?"

Rolling her eyes, Mel explained about how stupid Aaron was supposed to go with her and he got sick. She was sure he was just hung over, but then her backup also begged off. The name Aaron rang a bell. While one of Gail's detectives was working on the case (seriously, the name 'major' crimes had to be a joke), Vivian had glanced at the suspect list. Aaron Murphy was the name of a suspect. It was reflex, but Vivian asked what Aaron's last name was.

Murphy.

Pushing the thought away (because Gail's guys would totally have looked into it), Vivian tried to ask about other things. Like about kids. Did Mel like working with kids? But then she remembered the backpack. The backpack had been a match for one of the kids' packs. Who had the kid been? Vivian found herself asking questions that were all a little leading back to the case.

And Mel sure noticed. Because in turn she asked how long Vivian had been a cop, and if she liked it. And, at the end of the dinner, Mel gave her a kiss off. First, literally, she kissed Vivian lightly. Then she sighed.

"I've never gone out with a cop. Are they all so ... Are they all cop all the time?"

Vivian winced. "I'm afraid that's just me."

Mel nodded sagely. "You don't talk a lot about yourself," she pointed out. "And you ask questions like... A cop. You're nice, but I think you should figure out who you are besides a cop."

Yeah, that was not the end of a good date. Vivian knew better than to argue it. She couldn't. The cop brain, the one she'd spent years crafting for herself, just didn't turn off.

Shoving a hand into her pocket, Vivian nodded. "I had a nice time," she offered, feeling as if the words were rote.

It showed as Mel shook her head. "Thank you. For saving my life."

She watched Mel get into her car and drive off, resisting the urge to bash her forehead into her helmet. The number of dates that had ended with 'you don't talk a lot about yourself' was rather high. Talk about school, talk about work, talk about sports, talk about anything but herself.

Talking about herself opened her up for the inevitable questions about her parents. That lead to being asked about being adopted. On the heels of that came the ones about her birth family. So far, Lara was the only person who hadn't pressed Vivian about it right after figuring out she was adopted. And Lara was straight. And Vivian was pretty sure she didn't want to date a cop. Ever.

She rode home, thinking about how the date had gone so crappily and how to prevent that from happening again. The obvious answer was to talk about herself. What she was thinking and feeling. Those things never came naturally to her. What she needed was someone who was okay with pulling teeth to get her to talk. Or someone who was okay with getting stories in dribs and drabs.

At least it was something to talk about with her therapist, besides the stupid flashbacks she'd been having. That reminded her to file a mental note not to tell her Moms about those. Holly would fuss and worry, and Gail ... Actually Vivian wasn't sure what Gail would do. She was harder to guess about than Holly was, especially with regards to things.

The flashbacks weren't as traumatic as Gail's seemed to be, for one. They were more like memories. She was finally remembering things about the day her parents and sister died. She remembered a social worker who wanted to hold her hand. She remembered sitting in an ambulance, hugging her bag. She remembered being asked if she'd been hurt.

Now she understood what the meaning was behind that question. Had she been abused, mentally, physically, or sexually. Vivian still didn't remember being hit or touched. Quite the opposite. She didn't remember the things she had now. Thinking back on eighteen years with Gail and Holly, Vivian remembered hugs and being tucked in. She remembered Gail supporting her while she threw up, Holly hugging her while she cried, and both being affectionate and making sure she knew she was loved.

That was the galling part of her memory.

She didn't have a single memory of her birth family doing any of that.

It used to be that Vivian thought she just didn't remember because she'd been six. Now she knew better and it hurt in a different way. Now it hurt to know what she could have had and could have felt. It wasn't what she'd had and lost, it was what she'd found and what it meant for what she'd never had before. What did Gail say at their 10th anniversary? It was realizing what had been missing all the time with everyone else, and finding everything she'd never known she'd needed.

Vivian paused her bike at the garage door.

In that house were two women who wanted her to be happy. They loved her and wanted the best for her. As soon as she went inside, they'd know how her date went. And they'd still love her and support her. She sighed and pressed her fob to open the garage door.

When she opened the living room door, her mothers were mid argument. "It's not that old!" Holly was very insistent.

"It is too! We got it the year you broke your wrist." Gail's response was equally firm and serious. "So it's six years old, and that's not 'too soon' at all."

"There's no way it's... Oh."

Gail mimicked Holly's tone. "Oh."

"Oh shut up," laughed Holly. "Fine. It's not too soon, it was old, and that was a shitty time to break."

"I made do," Gail drawled. "You didn't complain."

"No," admitted Holly, a little giggly. Her voice was lighter than normal.

And just like that, Vivian knew what her parents had been up to and what broke. "Oh my god, you guys are talking about breaking your vibrator," groaned Vivian, loudly.

Her mothers fell silent and then Gail cleared her throat. "You're home early. No desert?"

Vivian put her helmet on the shelf and hung up her coat. "No, and no second date either." She glanced over and saw Holly clutching the neckline of her robe and blushing.

"I'm... I'm going to change," said Holly, a little stiffly, and she went upstairs. Holly could be a little prudish when it came to nudity around her daughter.

Gail's smirk was unmistakable, and she could care less. "Sorry," she stifled the grin and put her iPad down. "Ice cream or alcohol or sulking in your room?" There was a way Gail could say things that made it seem like either option was not just viable, but acceptable.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Vivian draped her arms over it and put her head down on the cool stone. "I think you should order two of whatever you're ordering," she mumbled. The soft 'oh dear' from Gail did not go amiss. A moment later there was the sound of the fridge and the clatter of bowls.

"Ice cream," Gail said decisively.

Sulking, Vivian didn't pick her head up. Not even when Holly came back down and gently patted the back of her head. "That bad?" Holly's voice was back to normal.

"She doesn't want to talk about it."

It was Holly who pushed this time. "Spill, Little Peck," she told her daughter. "Or no ice cream."

Vivian lifted her head just enough to eye her mother. "Why were you downstairs naked anyway?" As expected, Holly flushed. Gail, on the other hand, coughed disapprovingly. Don't change the subject. Right. "So you know how people always say I never talk? I … tried."

Both of Gail's eyebrows went up. "Tried?"

"I talked about work. Which, in my defense, she asked about first." Vivian sighed and propped her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her fists. "And that kinda turned into me poking about the case in a weird way and … she said I need to figure out who I am."

While Holly looked thoughtful, Gail winced and pushed the bowl over. Cookie dough. Classic. "Gail?" Holly tilted her head at the blonde, using that weird mom telepathy they'd developed.

"She means Viv talked about everything _but_ herself, and it made her think she's hiding something, and when the hell did I become the smart one about relationships, Holly?"

"You figured out how we fucked everything up and how to put it back together faster than I did," Holly noted, snatching Gail's spoon and taking a bite of ice cream. "Viv, honey…" And Holly stalled, as if not sure where to go.

Vivian scowled. "Its not that I don't want to talk about it, Mom. I mean, god I do _not_ want to talk about it. But I _can_ _'_ _t_."

The confusion on Holly's face didn't go away, but Gail made a noise of understanding. "It's hard to get the words out when you don't know..." Gail paused and looked at Holly softly. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to talk to you about Perik, Holly?"

"Oh," said Holly softly.

"It makes you feel ... raw. Like your heart is open and covered in gasoline, and you're not sure if the other person has a match or not."

That was exactly it. Vivian looked at Gail, feeling a little wide eyed. "How does she do that?" How did Gail just drop bombs like that which explained everything?

Holly leaned against Gail. "I don't know. It's a latent Peck thing," she mused. "She couldn't do it when I met her."

That gave Gail a sad look. "I didn't want to lose you again."

"Awesome," grumbled Vivian and she took a bite of her ice cream. "I'll just wait till I find a plus one and have a mental breakthrough."

"Hey." Gail was frowning. "You're not me. I'm not my parents. You will figure out how to deal with it however it works for you, okay?"

There was the problem. Vivian whispered, "What if it doesn't work?" What if this, this person who couldn't talk about her feelings, was who she was? What if she never had a plus one?

"Then it doesn't," said Gail. "But it will."

"How do you know?"

Gail smiled. "Look, you wanted to be a cop, right? How'd you know that?"

"Because..." She looks between Holly and Gail. "I don't want people to think there's no one to help them, no one who will help them. I wanted to be like Oliver, but I think ... I think Christian's that. Now? I guess because I know I can do things and I want to do them to help people. Do what they can't."

Her mother's were smiling a little. An approval smile. "And why don't you want to talk about your past?"

Vivian opened her mouth. Then she closed it. "I don't know." She didn't. "I mean… Mom, when I say I can't talk about it, I mean it literally. I _can_ _'_ _t_. I tried! I tried to tell Liv a couple times and the words just … they stop. I start having a stupid panic attack." She stabbed at the ice cream, watching it start to melt. "I don't want to freak out in front of people."

After a moment, Gail suggested, "You should try to talk about your hobbies. Like that American Ninja Idiots thing you like? Talk about that."

Skeptical, Vivian poked her ice cream and started to eat it. Holly fed Gail a spoonful and noted, "That's actually not a bad idea. Tell them you're into sports. Talk about books and movies. But god, do not bring up work. That never ends well."

"It did for you two," grumbled Vivian.

"We," sighed Gail, "We are not normal."

Weirdly, knowing that made it a little easier.

* * *

Bomb cases were rarely on Gail's docket, not even if they happened at a zoo. While it was terrible, it wasn't majorly major enough. And that was fine by her. Bombs were messy, they were ugly, and they reminded her of her car. She still had the destroyed license plate. The shrapnel was pretty cool.

Still. This case ended up in her world for one simple reason. "What do you mean that he's back?"

On her couch was Sue Tran. John was leaning against the door, looking surly. "I mean based on the information the lab techs gave me, it's the same signature and the same design. And? Just like last time, it was fake. Nothing hooked up."

"I really didn't need this," grumbled Gail.

Sue looked bitter. "We don't even have a goddamned name, Gail. Just that stupid nickname."

They never had. Five years ago, Sgt. Tran had led her squad to a reported bomb left in a backpack by Centennial College. They'd found a fake bomb, not a dud, but just not wired up. Then they found another and another, until there was finally a live one back at the College. Except Sue's team was so wired and stressed out that they'd fumbled.

One of her best men paid that price.

Their lieutenant paid that price.

That was Sue's pain to bear.

"I'm sorry," sighed Gail.

Throwing her arms over the back of the couch, Sue asked, "How's the drug case going?"

Gail tossed her pen onto the table. "Oh. Shitty. Noelle thinks it's about to be a full on gang war if we don't watch out. And I still have no idea how it all comes together. But I got Three Rivers trying to take over Anton Hill's people, and no one knows who's in charge of Rivers."

Thankfully Sue winced. "Well that sounds fucking awesome."

"It's as much fun as you think."

John finally spoke up. "How about I keep an eye on it? The bombs. I'm better than anyone else we've got for it."

"Might be dead ends," noted Sue.

"I'm good at those too," he smiled. "Fact finding, data diving. It's this thing Gail's not really familiar with. Patience."

Gail flipped him off. "Plus side, he doesn't need my permission to requisition more staff."

Smiling, Sue gave a thumbs up. "Who's running your gang war?"

"Steve. No one knows gangs better." Gail pushed her chair back and propped her feet up on the table. "I just want that damn bird."

"Bird?" Sue looked at John. "She lose her mind?"

"Nah, we've got this idea that the Three Rivers guys track back to this poem from a comic book."

Gail winced as Sue gave her a droll look. "Don't say it."

"That's really dumb, Peck. What the hell?"

"Ass," she muttered to John. But then she laid out her theory. The names of the shops coincided with the poem, which was about three brothers who had to be united to find treasure. "And I totally get that it could all be a big fat coincidence, but damned if things don't line up."

Sue read the poem thoughtfully. "Except for the brothers things. You've got one leader, right? Bobby Zanaro Jr?"

"Yeah and nothing on him. Chloe's guys have been trailing him for ages. He's good."

Frowning, the ETF lieutenant tapped the paper in her hands. "Funny thing... Eagles. Where did you say these guys were based out of?"

"Thank you for pointing out the other thing I don't know," griped Gail. "They're working out by the Don River. Upper."

Sue looked thoughtful. "You know there's a little league team up there? I used to play against 'em."

It was John who joked, "Not ponytail league?"

Shaking her head, Sue went on. "We used to play this team there called the Eagles. Sponsored by ... Something named Crosse. With an E."

Gail felt her face go flat. "Sue, you're not just trying to make me feel better because I'm sitting on a bomb, right?"

The woman shook her head. "No. I'm dead serious. This ... This really stupid theory you have kinda holds water."

Sitting up, Gail tapped her computer into life and added the information from Sue. "See? That's what keeps happening. It can't possibly be. But I have three pot shops in three different neighborhoods with the right names. And I have three brothers! They're all dead, but I do."

Unbidden, a laugh burst from Sue. "Sorry."

"I like you better when you were too nervous to speak in court," snarled Gail.

"They're dead?" Sue was an inch from serious laughter.

"Come on," Gail groaned. "They've been dead for years. Bobby Zanaro's dad had two brothers. We're hunting down their kids but looks like most got whacked back when I was a uni."

Sue stopped laughing. "Oh. When they had that takeover? Isn't that..." She waved a hand around the room.

Yes. That was how Gail got the job upstairs. "Yep," she replied, popping the P.

Shaking her head, Sue handed the paper back. "Man, what goes around, comes around. Who'd've thought we'd all still be here."

"You are a pretty incestuous lot," muttered John.

"You can get out." Gail snarled at her sergeant warning.

John was so used to her now that he just smiled. "Nice to see you again, Sue. I'll get on the research for you."

Once John left, Sue grinned. "How'd a brat like you get a sergeant like him?"

"I blackmailed him," Gail replied flippantly. She typed more about the idea of a baseball sponsor into her report and realized Sue was still sitting on her couch. "What?"

"Your kid."

Gail blinked and closed her laptop lid. "Viv? I thought she did okay at the scene..."

The other woman shook her head. "Honest? She did great." Before Gail could make a flippant remark about Vivian being a Peck, Sue went on. "Your kid was actually pretty impressive. Did you read her report?"

"No. I try not to be my mother on her."

"She's smart, Gail. She gets it."

Gail frowned. "I hope so. She worked hard." She knew where was Sue going with this, and she didn't like it.

"My guys like her."

There it was. If Vivian had been a friend and not a daughter, Gail would tell Sue about the crush. But... "I'm not going to stop her, Sue. If she asks for the rotation, that's on her." The parent in her heart screamed. Let her kid, her only kid, go running into danger? Play with bombs that blew people up and storm buildings and take down shooters? Gail had seen how bad it got!

Sue, childless Sue, looked seriously at Gail. "There's not stopping and there's not helping," she said carefully. "I think she may have a knack for it."

Swallowing, Gail nodded. "Well. She's still a rook, Sue."

"I know, I know. But I gotta tell you. I see it there. She's not a weird junkie like Dov. She's got the look." Sue laced her fingers together. "She's not good with people, but she's good in a crisis."

Of all the scars that Vivian bore, the ones that made her reliable in a crisis were the only good ones. She was always the person her friends could turn to, when being beaten by bullies or high and scared. Vivian didn't freak out. She handled the situation. Even Nick said that Vivian was in control, if a bit of an automaton, when the guy blew his head off in front of her.

Maybe this was her niche after all. Maybe she wasn't going to be Oliver, like teen Vivian had dreamed. Maybe, maybe she was going to be like Sue.

"Tell you what, though," smiled Gail. "There are worse people to be like than you."

"Keep saying things like that, Peck, and I'll think you like me," retorted Sue, grinning.

"Don't get your hopes up. You broke my ribs. It'll be a long time before I forgive you for that."

But they laughed. Because people couldn't survive and exploding car and not be some kind of friends afterwards, now, could they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of chapter six. The mad bomber, what could he be up to? The gangs! Will there be a war?
> 
> Vivian by the way was totally wrong about the connections. The guy ditched Zoo Day to have a date and nothing more. He was suspect because of the timing and nothing more.


	7. 01.07 In Plain View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Gail's 50th birthday and the rookies are being pushed through certification faster than expected. Why would they need to be cut loose so soon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've had a few unsolved cases. This time we'll solve a case. And maybe Gail and Vivian can work together before Gail turns fifty.

"Hang on, you can run up, like, a warped wall?" Lara was incredulous.

"Yeah, the 14 footer. There's one at this gym I go to, Ningymnastics." They all looked at her in a little awe, which was weird and disconcerting. "Yes, the name is stupid."

Christian shook his head. "How long have I known you and you never told me this? Dude, you could be on tv!"

"I never go to the tryouts," Vivian smiled sheepishly. "I just like playing around."

"So, like, you can do parkour?" Jenny put down another beer by Vivian. "No wonder you took that fence like a boss."

That was why they were talking about it. The day before they'd been chasing after a perp down some alleys. The criminal had taken out Duncan with a trash bin, only to have Vivian hurdle right over it and keep up. When he went over a fence, she hadn't even thought. Step left, step right, plant the feet and she all but ran up the side of the wall, used a hand to brace on the top of the fence, and vaulted right over it.

And Duncan's chest cam caught it all.

Dov had played it for her, telling her first not to do such dangerous moves and then asking how the hell she'd learned that, because Gail was not particularly familiar with the idea of exercise and he'd never known Holly to do that. By the end of the day, everyone of the old guard had seen it and wanted to know if it was luck or real. Vivian kept declining to show off until finally, that afternoon, Noelle dragged her to the gym as part of their certification.

Knowing very well that Vivian did that sort of thing for fun, Inspector Williams gave them all directions that sounded insane. Bleachers to the pommel horse, no touching the ground. Then the climbing wall to the ball pit, no touching balls. From there, use the mini trampoline to bounce to the wood wall, traverse the length with no feet, and touch the basketball hoop.

The rookies had laughed. No one could do it. Rich tried first, because that was the kind of guy he was, but whiffed the jump to the climbing wall and bruised his ass. While he sat on an ice pack, Noelle shouted 'Peck!' and sent Vivian to it.

Vivian was sure Noelle had only slummed it to run the tests to see Vivian show them up. And they all said Gail was the evil one. Hah.

It was half the course she normally played on, which meant it was fairly mundane. As soon as she cleared the jump to the climbing wall, remembering to still her lower body as she swung over, the rookies went silent. When she hung on to the inch deep wood slats (seriously, why did gyms even have them?) and traversed the long wall, they cheered.

And now they wanted to know how she'd done it. After Noelle showed them the video, Vivian showed them photos from the gym competitions she took part in.

Jenny was agog at the photos. "Why not? You could totally rock it!"

"You don't look like you're that strong." Lara squeezed Vivian's bicep. "I mean, I've seen you with your shirt off. You're not all muscle bound."

Wincing away, Vivian rubbed her arm. "Ow. And ... It's not about muscle mass. It's flexibility and strength."

Standing by them, Rich shook his head. "That was totally unfair. You're a ringer."

It was Jenny who came to Vivian's defense. "Actually, you volunteered. And you totally shoot better than she does."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage him." She was not the shot that Gail was. In a controlled situation, like a competition shoot, she held her own. Gail was just fucking phenomenal. It was annoying.

"Hey, why were you all over the range last week?" Rich looked curious. "Trying to beat my score?"

"Nah, my mom's birthday is this week." Vivian sipped her beer as Christian oooohed. Everyone else was lost. "She has a target shoot every year. Second place wins a stupid hat and kudos for a year."

Rich frowned. "Second place?"

"Mom's never lost." Steve and Dov came very close two years prior, actually. In Gail's defense, she'd been recovering from a monster cold.

Clearing his throat, Rich asked, "Which mom?"

Vivian grinned. "Not the one you hit on." It was a delight to watch his face curl up into a mixture of fear and doubt. "Don't worry, they both thought it was funny. They take bets to which rookie hits on Holly first."

"Just Holly?" Jenny frowned. "Not that the doc isn't hot, but me? I'd go for Gail. She's like... Marilyn Monroe looks."

"She tends to scare people off," remarked Christian. "She can be real intense." He'd seen her being her most intense. When Denise threatened to not pay for university, Gail, Dov, and Oliver had driven to Timmins to have 'words' with Denise. Apparently Gail's words were a little brutal.

Jenny thought about that and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I can see that. But the doc is so easy going. What was that like, growing up?"

Smiling, Vivian admitted, "Awesome. Kinda annoying sometimes."

"Hell, that's just parents," laughed Lara. "Mine freaked out when I told them I was going to be a cop."

Conversation swung around to that for the rest of the night. Vivian, with a cop for a parent, was excused from any explanations. They all assumed her parents knew everything anyway. But it was Jenny who got awkward and unwilling when they asked about her family. And only Vivian knew why. So she stepped in and joked about how her parents would have had a heart attack if she'd been a fireman.

Because that's what friends did. Right? They covered for each other.

* * *

No matter how many times Elaine suggested it, Holly shot it down. "No party. Elaine, she doesn't want one."

"My daughter is fifty," sighed Elaine. "We should do more than dinner and shooting."

"She wants dinner and shooting. Besides, you get next spring." That had been the only trade off Holly had been able to wrangle, without having to resort to Gail's assistance at Peck Negotiations.

Elaine huffed. "Tell me you're at least taking her away somewhere."

With a smile, Holly nodded. "We're going up to the cottage."

Her mother in law rolled her eyes. "Didn't you go to Europe for her forty-fifth?"

"We did, and we're going to Greece for our twenty-fifth, so this year and next are budget friendly."

With a dissatisfied look, Elaine muttered, "Greece could still use the money."

"Stop it, or I start asking for details about you nice man who came to the ballet with us last month. Gordo?" It was fun to watch Elaine blush. "It's what she wants and it's what we both like, Elaine."

The woman sighed and stabbed her salad with a fork. "At least I don't need to keep an eye on my granddaughter. Everyone says she's doing well. How's she getting along with her class? Gail had such a hard time with that." At least Elaine had the grace to look guilty about it.

Holly waggled a hand. "She's doing better. She still hates talking about herself."

"I hated that too," admitted Elaine. "Everyone had it out for the rich, high society girl, slumming it in blue."

Admittedly, Holly had never really thought of it that way. "If only that was her problem. I think it's impacting her romantic life more than anything."

Elaine looked a little concerned. "Oh dear." She shook her head. "Things aren't getting better after the shooting?"

"No. But not worse either." Her mother-in-law also knew the story of Vivian's past, as much as the courts recorded. She'd read it before Vivian had moved in, before Holly had known all the details actually. And Elaine had helped Gail to get the records sealed.

At the time, Holly had been livid that Elaine had read them. Now she understood what it meant to be a parent. She saw the lengths she herself would go to in order to made Vivian happy and healthy and whole. It gave her a very different view on her own parents. Also having Elaine to talk to about this aspect of parenting was a relief. They could share the burden a little.

They didn't talk about Vivian or Gail for the rest of lunch though. Elaine and Holly had started carving out time to just hang out and talk shortly after Gail came back from her undercover op saving the then Prince of Wales. They had lunch at least once a month, and while they could talk about work, more often they talked about little things. A book Holly was reading, a movie Elaine liked, a sports game Holly was caught up in, and maybe some family matters.

With the arguments of Gail's birthday out of the way, and the discussion of Vivian's stumbling into adulthood shelved for now, they got to the rest of their topics. Like Elaine's boyfriend. Man friend. Gordo. Like Holly's new paper and how she was invited to give a TED talk about it.

She liked Elaine a lot. That wasn't true when they'd first met, and it hadn't been true at all for years. Now they were family. They could tease each other and push each other and they had that comfortable familiarity borne of something more than just being bound together by Holly wearing Gail's ring. They liked each other. They were friends who both adored Gail.

After lunch, Holly spent her day trying hard to wipe her docket clear. She wanted nothing hanging over her head when she dragged Gail off that weekend. When her phone rang, and it was Gail, she smiled. "Hello, Detective."

"Hi, Doc. Quick question."

Oh. It was a work call. "Tell me I'm not on speaker."

Gail laughed. "You are not."

"Then please, go ahead."

"Fentanyl. Addictive or not?"

"Technically, anything can be addictive depending on the person's chemistry and genetic makeup. Any substance or event that sends the right stimuli to the reward center of your brain has the potential to -" Gail coughed. "It's an opiate, Gail."

"Oh, an _opiate_. Like heroin. Huh, so you're saying taking it every day would be downright addictive." The way Gail spoke told Holly what was going on.

"Gail Peck, are you calling me from interrogation?"

"Yes, yes I am, Doc."

"You're terrible. Is he tweaking?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Holly laughed softly. "It's addictive and it escalates. So he'll need more and more as time goes on."

"That explains a lot. Thanks."

"You're welcome, dear. Please tell me this isn't going to delay our trip."

"Unlikely to be a factor," drawled Gail.

"Good, because I have plans for you, and they involve you being naked with me where no one can hear you scream my name. And you will be begging."

There was a lengthy pause. "Duly noted," Gail managed, her voice normal but taut. Hah. Got her.

Holly smiled and chirped in her best Chloe imitation, "Alright. I love you."

"Back attcha, Doc," replied Gail and she hung up.

It was always a little fun to flirt with Gail when she couldn't do anything back. Once, Holly had cheerfully talked dirty when Gail was getting information in the car with John driving, safe in the knowledge that Gail had an earpiece in. She loved it. Of course, Gail got her back from time to time.

Her next Peck call was from Steve, who wanted to know the details for the shoot. And then of all people, her daughter showed up. "Hi, Mom." The young woman was still in uniform, even though it was past sunset.

"Well hello, stranger."

Vivian grinned. "I got it." She held up a pistol case.

While Holly disliked guns, she had long since accepted her wife's necessary reliance on them and her open attraction to them. Knowing this, Holly had looked for the perfect gift for her snarky wife and struck upon the idea of a new gun. She quickly drafted her daughter to help, and Vivian suggested they get her a new backup piece, since Gail's favorite had finally passed the point of safe repair.

"Is it the same?"

"Mom, I told you. They haven't made a Colt Pocket 9 since before I was born." Vivian rolled her eyes and closed the office door. "There's a lawsuit. I made the guy get out all the pocket 9s. I thought it'd be the Sig, but the single action was really a pain in the ass. The Ruger and the Walther had nice pulls, but the new model Kahr CM9 was totally the winner."

Holly sighed. "Honey, I love you but why are you saying all those words?"

Her daughter smiled a quirky side smile, just like Holly did. "Mom will love it."

"Thank you. Can I see it?" Vivian put the case on Holly's desk and popped it open. "It's tiny," she marveled.

"It's supposed to be." Vivian reached in and picked it up, turning it so Holly could see there was no clip, and demonstrating the way it looked in someone's hand. "Mom's got smaller hands than I do, so she'll have a better grip. I got her the plus one mag-"

Holly snorted a laugh. "Sorry. Yes, I know that means it has an extra round. It's just..."

"That's why I did it." Vivian showed that the chamber was empty and then the magazine, before holding the gun out to Holly.

She didn't hold guns. She wasn't going to start now. "Pass. It looks pretty. And light." Vivian put the gun back and held out the nylon holster. "Now this is ... butch."

The rookie police officer snorted a laugh. "Seriously? Mom's not butch."

As Holly took the holster and inspected it, Vivian pulled a silver metallic pen from her pants pocket. "She really isn't, is she?" Holly took the pen and shook it. "Do you know what you're going to write?"

"Kinda. You?"

Holly nodded and carefully wrote BE SAFE and her initials. "I know it's trite."

But her daughter just smiled. "No, I like it. You guys should write in my vest..." She took the pen and holster and hesitated. DO GOOD. Holly tilted her head in confusion. "She'll get it."

And just like that, Holly got it. The most important thing to do, if you were a cop, was to do good things. Do right things. Gail had stressed that multiple times to young Vivian. And Vivian was letting her know she'd heard and understood.

"You are a good child," sighed Holly.

"You're a good mom," noted Vivian. "But Nick's waiting downstairs. We gotta finish up."

Holly sighed and reached over to adjust Vivian's tie. "Did you make him help you with this?"

"Nah, I told him I had to pick up Mom's present." She put the holster in the case and locked it up, placing the key on top. "You good with this?"

"Yes, I'm good with it. No bullets, right?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "You're such a loser, nerd Mom."

Smiling, Holly took the case and put it by her purse. "When are you off shift?"

"We gotta file paperwork and then I'm done. Maybe an hour or two."

"And your mom?"

"Last seen with a tweaker and John, trying to press him for information. Depends on if he cracks." Vivian grinned. "They sent Lara out to get mini Smarties though." That was Gail's favorite tweaker snack. Vivian's radio crackled. "Gotta bounce. See you at dinner."

Holly leaned in her doorway, watching her daughter literally bounce down the hallway. Knowing half the lab, Vivian greeted most by name or title. A memory of watching Gail saunter down the hall in uniform popped into Holly's mind. Vivian looked nothing like Gail did then. Gail _always_ had a swagger to her, a sway that promised she was in charge and not to be taunted. Vivian still looked like the kid in the candy store.

Not having known Gail as a rookie, Holly wondered if she'd had the same bounce to her step. She'd have to ask Oliver.

* * *

"Night shift," groaned Christian as they looked at the schedule.

"It's not like it's the first time," Vivian noted, adding the schedule to her calendar on her phone. "You ready to rock and roll, Fuller?" The rookies had been pairing up on their own for a while and Vivian had to admit she really liked it.

Christian scowled. "How come you're on a different schedule?"

Unlike Christian, who started nights after two days off, Vivian had three days. "Because it's Mom's birthday in two days? Hello."

"Pecks," muttered Rich, leaning around Vivian to look at his schedule. "Bet they just pushed your name around."

"Hey, enjoy four days without all the Pecks on patrol," joked Vivian. The majority of them were coming to the party, if not the shooting. The shooting was just the old crew. Elaine had implied she'd retire at the end of this year, which Gail teased was because of how badly she'd been doing. In her eighties, Elaine's ability to shoot was actually pretty amazing.

"Peck, my office," called out Noelle as Vivian test fired her gun.

"Ooooh, Peck's in trouble!" Rich shoved her shoulder.

Ignoring her asshat classmate, Vivian headed on her mission. She rapped on Noelle's door up on the third floor. It was on the other end of the floor from Gail's office, which was currently empty. "Come here and close the door."

"Is this gonna be a spy thing, ma'am?"

Noelle rolled her eyes. "No, Vivian, this is your best friend's mom telling you something. So no gossip."

Affronted, Vivian pointed out, "Pecks don't gossip."

"I mean no telling Steve."

"Oh. Okay. What's wrong?"

Noelle took a deep breath. "I'm retiring."

Well that was a hell of a thing. "What? Now!?"

"January," sighed Noelle. Two months.

Vivian looked stunned. "Why... Why are you telling me?"

Noelle looked sadly at her. "Because I promised my daughter that I'd see you cut loose. And I don't want to fail that promise. Reviews are Thursday afternoon."

What the what? Vivian's eyes widened. "But..." Reviews were in February, before her birthday. That's what Dov said at dinner when he brought his homebrew. That was just a couple weeks ago, when he and Chloe had argued about which one of them would have a better chance against Gail at the range.

"I made Dov push 'em up. You guys are doing well. But that means..."

"Recerts. Tomorrow?"

"Today. We're announcing that at Parade."

Vivian nodded, feeling a bit of fear set in for the first time. Two things had to happen in two days before her mother turned fifty. "Thanks." She'd planned to go to the range every day for the three weeks leading up to their recertifications. Of course she went every week, with Gail to boot, but that was more casual shooting. She'd been practicing for Gail's birthday, not a recert. The shoot was totally different!

"Hey," Noelle looked at her like the woman who used to come cheer at soccer games. She was the mom Vivian had known for years. "Don't freak out, okay? Gail flubbed her first recert at the range."

That didn't help. "I know," she exhaled. "It's just... I don't want to fuck up before her birthday."

Noelle smirked and got up. "You won't, okay? You're good. You've been doing great for anyone, let alone a Peck, so don't get scared." Throwing an arm up and around Vivian's shoulders, Noelle hugged her briefly and let go. "When did you get tall?"

That helped. "You just got short," teased Vivian. She walked with Noelle to Parade, hands shoved in her pockets.

Dov was sitting at the front of the room, in a stool, leaving room at the podium for Noelle. "Rookies," he said loudly. "Come up front." They did, everyone else looking nervous. "This morning, you're all going to the range. Anyone who doesn't recertify is benched. And reviews are tomorrow."

The whole room started talking. It wasn't just because of Noelle leaving, realized Vivian. The force was short handed in general. She glanced around. The room was only two thirds what it was when Gail had been in uniform, wasn't that what Gail had complained about? Recruitment was down. When she looked back at Noelle, she caught the nod.

"Inspector Williams, in the mean time, will be supervising with me the recertification of our senior officers!" Now the room hooted. "And up for grabs is, courtesy of our esteemed third floor, is a bottle of single malt. Over $1000 dollars. Goes to, who Duncan?"

"Copper with the best time, sir."

The room broke up laughing. From the back, Gail's voice shouted, "Who had the worst time last year?" Duncan didn't answer and the room laughed. Of course Gail had come down to see the fights. "Epstein. Care for Ds versus unis?"

"Not if you're sending in a ringer."

"Not my fault I got Nash." Traci was the ringer with fights and everyone knew it. Hearing her mother flaunt that, though, was hilarious.

Dov smirked. "McNally, go take our rooks to light it up."

As Vivian followed McNally out, Gail held up a fist. Vivian blinked and then saw her mother's broad grin. She made a fist and tapped it to Gail's. It said everything. It said good luck, it said not to Peck things up, but it also said that it was alright no matter what happened. It was all alright.

"Dude, your _mom_ just fist bumped you." Rich, of course, gave her shit. Sometimes he seemed to be able to remember that Vivian had two moms, sometimes not.

"Dude," said McNally, opening the door to the range. "Her _mom_ has the record for competition shoots for the whole force."

Rich's face went a little white. "What?"

Competition shoots were totally different than most things they did on the range. They reflected nothing past the ability to stay calm in a controlled situation. But damn if Gail's string of wins wasn't impressive. Rich and Jenny stopped to look at the plaque on the wall, where it read "Peck, G." and an obscenely high score for over half the shoots for the last fifteen years. Gail actually had two occasions where she had a perfect score on a shoot. Once when she was in her twenties, before meeting Holly, and once when Vivian had been a teen. Most of the shoots where she was listed, Gail had a score in the top ten, if not five.

Vivian leaned in and whispered, "The years she's not listed? She didn't compete." It was a lie. Gail had her off days too. But it was more fun this way. "And yes, you hit on her wife." She patted his cheek and walked up to the desk clerk.

Seeing her, the clerk smiled. "Hey, Little Peck. All set for Friday! I got it booked clear for you guys for the hour."

"Thanks." She saw Christian patting Rich's shoulder. The idiot's discomfort and the normalcy of being on the range was settling Vivian's nerves more than anything else.

McNally marched them into the range and lined them up. Vivian closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of the range. She knew the range. She came here every week and had since she was twelve. "Okay, everyone. Load and make ready. Chamber a round." Vivian opened her eyes and took hold of her gun, loading and making ready. "This scenario is called 'shoot, don't shoot.' If your target looks like a bad guy, you shoot. If it does not, Peck?"

Vivian knew the answer and smiled as she shouted, "Do not shoot, ma'am!"

"That is right." McNally walked up and down the line. "Alright. Are you ready?"

They all shouted. "Yes, ma'am!" Vivian took her shooter's stance.

"Okay. Let's make some good decisions. The range is hot!"

The targets popped up. Vivian saw the mother with the baby and quickly lowered her gun while the shots of most of her classmates echoed around her. Do not shoot.

"And hold. Prove safe, benches down." McNally pressed a button and the targets zoomed in. "Let's see how we did." She walked down the line. "Nice. Good. Good call, Peck." McNally paused at Christian's booth. "Good cluster, Fuller. Impressive."

Vivian leaned over to look and flashed Christian a thumbs up. Only one shot outside of the body. "Nice!" she hissed at him.

But McNally wasn't done. "You did very well, rookies. Under controlled circumstances." Vivian's heart pounded. She knew this one. This was an Oliver moment. Deep breath. "You already know out there, real life, is not controlled. It's unpredictable. It's wild."

"Here it comes," muttered Vivian.

"Holster the guns." Andy was grinning. "Come on, put the guns away. Step back." As everyone stepped back, Andy pointed to the ground. "Drop and give me fifteen."

Not arguing, Vivian and, she was pleased to see, Christian dropped. Rich blustered. "What!?"

"Thirty seconds, Hanford! Gimme push-ups or you fail."

Rich swore and hit the deck. Fifteen push-ups. They were probably easier for Vivian than they'd been for noodle armed rookie Gail. "Calm down, Rich, she's just trying to mess us up," said Christian, easily pumping out his lot.

"Fuller, shut it! Everyone up, load your clips." McNally slapped the wall and the lights started flashing. It was like a disco. It was loud. Vivian was never more grateful that Oliver had made her try this a handful of times in the last five years. "Range is hot! Benches up! Come on, faster! Go!"

In the blinking, flashing, room, it was harder to see. It was harder to think. Vivian listened to Gail's voice in her head. How many times had Gail told her that using a gun had to be natural and decisive? A gunshot wasn't something you could take back. Don't fire unless you're absolutely sure. The reminders sprinted through her head in an instant.

Go.

Shoot or don't shoot? Was it the gunman or the man with a cell phone or the mother?

Decide.

And things slowed and clarified in her head. She calmed her breathing. She saw the figure on the paper and she knew.

She fired.

Six shots and the lights stopped flashing. Six shots and the targets went dark. Six shots and that was all she had to decide if she was going to pass tomorrow. But hey, no pressure.

"Prove safe, benches down." McNally's voice was softer. "Hanford, you shot the mother. Her family is going to sue."

"I thought it was the gunman," he muttered.

"It wasn't. Take a good look at her, Hanford."

Rich looked down. "Sorry."

"Aronson, Volk, not bad. Not great. I want you three back here this afternoon." The trio mumbled their understanding. "Fuller, good call. That civilian with a cell phone shit his pants, but he's going to live." Then McNally paused. "Interesting, Peck."

What did that mean? Vivian looked from McNally to her target. The man with a gun. Four shots center mass. One shot shoulder. One shot wide. All things considered, it was actually pretty good, she'd thought. "What does it mean, ma'am?" Did they fail? Did a miss count as a failure?

Taking a deep breath, McNally gestured. "It means you're still rookies. Report to Epstein for your assignments."

Three of them were stuck on desk. Two of them were not. Two of them were told to take out 1509 and go on patrol. Together.

When they were discretely away from their benched classmates, Vivian and Christian swapped high fives. "Dude," he laughed. "We rocked!"

As worried as she was about the bumped up time table, Vivian grinned. "Yeah, we did." She knew it wasn't perhaps the best thing, as a person, to be so excited about the recertification, but even Nick had talked about how he nearly choked on his. It was a tough moment. She didn't want to fail. Not this close to Gail's birthday.

Christian, who had been practicing on his own regularly, felt the pressure as much as she did. His mother had been agitating for him to drop out and come home. "Where are the keys?" When Vivian jangled them, he groaned. "No no, I do not want you to drive, Grand Tourismo Peck!"

"It's Gran Turisimo, and you snooze, you lose." She bounded down the hall. "Gotta make a call. We roll in five, Fuller!" Pulling out her phone she tapped a very specific name.

"Well good morning, Peckling."

She couldn't not smile. "Hi, Uncle Ollie."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of you disrupting my coffee?"

"First, it's nine. You're lazy." He laughed over the phone. "Second... Thank you."

Oliver sounded surprised. "You are most welcome, quietest of all my Pecks. What did I do? Just so I can do it again."

"I passed my recert on the first go." Because there was one person who told her the truth about how it was hard and why it was hard. Just one person who taught her the zen of shooting on the worst day. And it wasn't a Peck. Pecks, even Gail, believed you thrived in adversity.

"Already? But Gail's shoot 'em out is in two days. Isn't it early?"

"A lot, yeah. And Friday they go to the cottage."

"Ooh la la," laughed Oliver. "Planning on throwing another party?"

The one time… She groaned at him. "I have night shift next week, so mostly planning on sleeping."

"You are as wise as you are taciturn, my dear. And I will see you on Thursday for the drinking and the revelry."

Because the most anyone could talk Gail into for her own birthday, so close to Christmas, were drinks and a cake at the Black Penny. If they were lucky, and they still didn't know if they were, there would be karaoke. "Oliver, I love you. Please don't sing Natural Woman. Again. Ever."

"First of all, my Petulant Peck loves my voice. Secondly, I learned a new one from Jerry."

"Oh god. I don't think I want to know." She laughed. "I have to go. Only Christian and I passed, so we get to patrol."

"Lucky you... Don't pull a McNally."

"Why? What did she do?"

"Prison transport with Swarek."

Vivian snorted. "Did they lose the prisoner?" When Oliver didn't answer, she guffawed. "I'll remind her of this later," she promised, grinning ear to ear.

"That's my Peck's daughter. Go. Protect, serve, be safe. I'm proud of you, kid."

"Thanks, Ollie." Vivian hung up and smiled at the phone. She knew she didn't have to tell her parents, but she wanted to. Just... She wanted to after she was cut loose. That would be the right thing. Besides. It wasn't like Gail didn't already know. Someone was probably telling her right now.

* * *

Her phone pinged again. Gail ignored it again. John begged again, "Gail, will you please answer that?"

"It's just updates from the fights downstairs," she dismissed and read the report again. "I really don't like this, John."

"I really want you to turn off the phone." He pushed it towards her and Gail ignored the phone. "Fine. What's the memo?"

"Gun sales are up." She handed him the tablet. "Way up. Swarek's report matches this one." Gail watched John's face still and drift into bitchy-resting-face as he read. "You won't like my theory."

He glanced at her. "Yeah, I don't." John flicked the report up and down on the screen, checking things. "Shit," he muttered. "Is this why they bumped up the recerts?"

"Afraid so. That and Noelle's retiring in January." Gail leaned back and propped her feet up. "Recruitment's down, gang violence is up. It's a grand old time."

John smiled slightly. "And you're in charge of Guns & Gangs."

"And you're my sergeant."

They shared a grin and Gail's phone rang. " _Please_ pick the phone up!"

Gail flipped him off as she answered her phone. "Peck. Better be good, McNally."

"Your kid cheated."

"It's not cheating, it's called being prepared." Gail felt her mouth split into a mammoth grin. Her kid passed.

"Well. She had one miss and one shoulder, but she nailed it. Second highest score in her class."

"Christian?"

Andy was silent for a moment. "How do you do that?"

"I'm awesome," smiled Gail. "And I've seen him at the range every time I went there for three weeks." She gave him advice while she was there, since he looked so damn earnest. Besides, Gail knew Vivian was hitting up Oliver for help.

"Well fine. He earned it. I sent them off together so Nick could type up his review."

"Tell Nicholas that you spell it e-x-c-e-l-" Andy's laughter cut her off before she could finish spelling excellent. "You got anything else?"

"Nope. Just three grumpy desk-bound idiots."

Gail hung up and tossed the phone down. "There. You happy?"

"What was her score?"

"She passed, I could care less about the rest, John." However, Gail did give the score and showed him the target, both of which Andy had texted her. He complimented the grouping and her mind drifted back to the case at hand. They'd shelved the mystery bomber, lack of evidence was crippling to a case, and John was primarily back on the pot shop shit.

The name that stood out right now was Dr. Veronica Van Lowe. They'd traced back not the pot nor the Fentanyl to her, but rejected prescriptions. Almost two thirds of the prescriptions at the pot shops had been turned down by her offices. From there, the eventual users were spread out across dozens of doctors.

Gail grimaced and propped her feet up on her desk. Was there a relation to them? Was it just dumb luck? Were people getting above their pay grade... "John," she said slowly. "The pot shops we busted for Fentanyl. Are they _all_ on that edge of the Rivers/Hill border?"

There was the sound of tapping, and John grunted. "They are. And? The clean ones are well inside Rivers' territory."

"So the laced shit is Hill and the pure is Rivers."

"Do you think we scared them off? Catching their weed trick?"

"No. I think we may be why things are escalating." She took her feet off the table and let them thud to the ground. "We tipped the Hill's hands. We showed their cards to Three Rivers and now Rivers is getting themselves armed."

John looked worried. "And they're tipping their own hand, showing they're weird with three sectors-" He stopped. "Put the map up.

Tapping the keys, Gail put the area map up on her glass wall. "Gang border is the dashed line. Hill shops are red, Rivers in blue."

Her sergeant uncapped a dry-erase pen. "If we use the three main shops and split the areas based on the rivers, we get this."

Gail looked at the lines. "Or this..." She got up and erased his lines, drawing ones not around the rivers, but around something else. One went around where Dr. Van Lowe's offices were. One went around where Bobby Zanaro used to frequent.

"Those aren't even."

"Zanaro takes over Zanaro," explained Gail, putting a Z in the largest sector. "Dr. Van Lowe... She'd be here." Gail marked that with a V. "Leaving our mystery guest ..."

John was already banging on his keyboard. "I'm running a full check on our doctor right now. Extended, see if her parents have relatives that we can tie into Zanaro and anyone else."

Nodding, Gail bounced back to her computer to store the updated map. "Look for someone boring. Lawyer. HR rep. Investment broker. Actuary."

"Why those?"

"Zanaro knows gangs. The doctor knows drugs. Someone's got to be helping them with the money. Blood is thicker, right?" He grunted. That was John for an agreement. Holly would make a comment about how the phrase didn't mean that at all. "And that actually explains Prancing Unicorn now that I think about it. Rivers didn't know he was lacing, so we got two types of added fentanyl because the gang did one and the owner did the other."

"Neither did Hill. That's what what's his face, that hipster idiot? That's why he was there trying to hit 'em up."

"He's also an idiot," countered Gail. "I don't think he knew one way or the other."

John grunted again. "No, I don't like that. Why would the name brands of the territories, your theory not mine, be the ones to fold over?"

"They're the edges. Also we have a dozen little shops that match the names." She tapped a key and the map on her wall lit up with all the small shops. "Bugs me I can't find a damn eagle."

Tossing his tablet onto the couch, John groaned. "Maybe it's a metaphor. You keep saying they're smart."

"No one plots all things years in advance like this." She waved her hands at the screen.

"You would." John looked dead serious.

But they had no answers that day. The background checks hit roadblocks with the CMA laws around Dr. Van Lowe, so warrants were scribbled up in a hurry. And pushed back. And re-written. And pushed back. Which was when Gail gave up, took herself to the range to shoot, and then went home.

Vivian and Holly were already cooking dinner. Mostly Vivian. Holly was technically stirring something, but she was more talking on her phone. "Mom, that's not what I said at all... No. No. I'm not apologizing that I have a busy job. You're retired, you come out for Christmas if it's that big a deal."

Oh wonderful. Holly and Lily were fighting. Slipping upstairs, Gail locked away her gun, badge, and laptop, and shed her jacket and shoes, before coming back down. Her wife was still arguing, but she'd wandered into the living room. "Hi," whispered Gail.

"Hi," mouthed Holly. "No, Mom, Gail just got home... Yes... We don't know." Holly made a face at Gail. A fight but she wasn't too angry. "Mom, hang on." She covered the mouthpiece. "No kiss?"

Gail rolled her eyes and kissed Holly softly. "Be nice to your mother," she whispered. Then she took Holly's hand off her phone. "Lily, be nice to your daughter."

Her wife's eyes were laughing as she went back to her conversation. "I'm just saying, we may have to book a last second flight, if we can do it. And I don't think Vivian wants to crash on the guest cottage couch again."

They were the negotiations about Christmas vacation. "Do you?" Gail leaned over to see what Vivian was cooking.

"It would be really bratty of me to stay home," sighed the rookie. "But then I think it would be favoritism to not work the holiday. Especially-" Vivian stopped abruptly.

Ah. "Noelle told you?" When Vivian looked relieved, Gail smiled. "It's weird. No lie."

Vivian checked the sear on her meat and poured in the sauce (aka what Holly had been stirring). "They're pushing us faster," she told her mother. "How bad is enlistment this year?"

Gail stuck her pinky in the sauce and tasted it. "Oh, that's good. Put in some molasses." Her daughter glowered. "It's bad, kiddo. They're holding off on the next class, and combining it with a couple other cities."

Looking like she'd bitten into a lemon, Vivian got the molasses and spooned in some. "That's really scary."

"Yeah, it is." It might be scarier for her than Vivian, mused Gail. She knew what the kid was getting into. "You know they won't cut you guys loose if you're not capable, right?"

Her daughter stirred the food. "I don't know, Mom. If Oliver was in charge... Maybe."

"You don't trust Noelle?"

"It's Dov I'm worried about."

Gail snorted. "Well, worry about this. Until they replace Noelle, I'm the ranking inspector at Fifteen."

The younger Peck froze. "Wait, what?" A look of actual horror washed across her face. "You'd be our inspector? Why not... Why not Steve? Or Traci?"

"I am going to hold it against you that you want your aunt and uncle instead of me," huffed Gail, feeling a little miffed.

Vivian deflated. "Mom, come on, you already steer three divisions. You do this, lesbian-bed-death will be real and I don't think Parent Trapping you up to the cottage will help."

Okay. The kid had a point. And it was adorable she was worried about her parents sex life. "I'll appoint someone else to be in charge if that happens," decided Gail then and there. "Not Steve, though. I'll be surprised if he makes it through next year." Then again, Steve would be a great interim inspector for the division. Give him a bump in salary before leaving.

Her daughter looked a little sad. "I'll miss him." She turned off the burner. "Mom! Dinner!" They both heard Holly tell Lily she had to go and she loved her.

Holly was louder when she came back into the kitchen. "Viv, if you want to work Christmas, I will not hold it against you."

That was not a good sign. Gail thought back to her last few conversations with Lily and realized the issue. "She's bored to death now that she retired, and has switched to meddling?"

Her wife nodded, morosely, getting out glasses. "What do we drink with this?"

"Something red and with tannins," suggested Gail. "I got it." She walked over to their small wine collection. "Maybe we should get my Mom to give Lily some ideas?" Elaine was still doing fundraising work for child advocacy, medical research, and queer youths. She'd probably keep doing that until she died, at this rate.

"That's not a terrible idea." Holly put the glasses down and brought Vivian the dishes. "Sorry I bailed on you, honey."

But their child didn't seem to mind. "Luckily my moms aren't into meddling at this point," she teased. "I don't know if I should work Christmas or not."

The plates were brought to the table and they took their normal seats. "Maybe Dov can pick names out of a hat?" Holly looked thoughtful as she spoke.

"Yeah, but then there's the whole volunteer thing. I mean, am I a brown-noser for volunteering or am I taking advantage of my name if I don't?" Vivian picked up her fork, clearly thinking more deeply about it than Gail had at the same age. Then she asked, "Why not Dov for inspector?"

Holly snorted. "Because that would make McNally your sergeant." They all paused. McNally had her faults, as Gail loved to point out, but she had grown up a lot. The idealistic moron had faded away.

"Actually..." Gail started. "Dov's been talking about going to IA or the super's staff." She hadn't told Holly, mostly because it hadn't really mattered. "He doesn't want to be an division inspector. Says it'll give him grey hairs."

"Hasn't given you any," smiled Holly, reaching over to fluff Gail's short hair. It was blonde. Again.

"She dyes it. You can't possible know what color..." Vivian trailed off and looked a little off color. "Ugh, I need brain bleach."

Gail laughed. "You need to get laid, kiddo." Her daughter flipped her off. "Is that why you want to stay home over Christmas?"

Deadpan, Vivian replied, "Yes. I plan on having an orgy." She took a bite of her food and shook her head.

They didn't come to any sort of agreement of anything that night, but it was alright. As Gail stretched out in bed and watched Holly change, she remarked. "Its weird how much Viv is and isn't like us."

Holly paused, pulling her shirt on. "Nick said the same thing."

"Hey, this bedroom is a Nicholas free zone," snarled Gail. But Holly knew her too well after twenty years and just smiled. "I mean, she thinks about the implications of things way more than I did as a rookie. Like, she was freaked to hell about failing the recertification."

"She passed?" Holly looked like that was news and slid into bed.

There was a moment of shuffling around as they got into more comfortable spots. "She didn't tell you either, huh? Andy told me."

Leaning in, Holly kissed her slowly. "If this bedroom is a Nick free zone, then this bed is an Andy free zone."

"Bleck!" Gail gagged and flopped onto her back. "She thinks a lot. That's totally you."

Holly lay down, resting her head against Gail's shoulder. Reflexively, Gail wrapped her arm around her wife. "She came that way," Holly said quietly. "But we raised a really good kid."

Gail smiled. "We did." Closing her eyes, she felt Holly's hand on her stomach. It was comfortable, having Holly up in her personal space. It always had been. There was a wonderful softness about Holly that made her so wonderful to share space with. The curves and the gentleness... It wasn't restrictive or oppressive.

From the very start of their friendship, Holly had broken Gail's normal reactions. She was the harbinger of change in Gail's life, and Gail didn't mind a bit. "Hey, Holly," she said quietly. The brunette hummed softly, still awake. "I love you."

The muffled shaking on her shoulder told Gail that Holly was laughing a little. "I love you, too," she replied. The hand on Gail's stomach moved, fingers tracing the satiny fabric. "Even if you're fifty and you don't have grey hairs."

Now it was Gail who laughed. She caught Holly's roaming hand and kissed her knuckles. "Pure luck. Dad was grey at my age. Steve's grey. Mom..."

"Elaine's a bottle." Holly wriggled her fingers free and caressed Gail's face. "I do. Love you." Gail smiled and leaned into the hand. Moving, Holly propped herself up and kissed the side of Gail's face. Then her jaw. "I really do."

Gail smiled as the kisses moved to her lips and then back to the side of her neck. There was an unexpected implication in the kisses. "What are you doing?" Her voice felt lighter than normal.

At first Holly didn't reply. She ghosted her lips over the shell of Gail's ear, slid her hand up to trace Gail's ribs, and started to shift her weight. "The other day I was teasing my wife," she explained, her voice quiet. "Telling her what I'm going to do to her on her birthday."

"I heard that," Gail replied, tilting her head and letting Holly have more access to her neck. It felt nice. It felt beyond nice. God, Holly was really good at making her feel things. She smiled and ran her hand up Holly's back to toy with her hair.

"Well," explained Holly, straddling Gail's waist. "My _plan_ was to get her fired up and wanton that she'd want to ditch early and I could have my way with her." Holly leaned in and kissed the other side of Gail's neck.

Yeah, that was really, really, nice. Deliciously nice. "What happened to your plan?"

"Backfired." Holly tugged at Gail's nightie. "I keep thinking about her. The way she smells. The way her skin feels. The way it looks in the dark."

At least Holly didn't say the way she glowed in the dark. Gail laughed softly. "I heard your wife doesn't like her birthday," she pointed out, running her hands up Holly's sides.

Holly sat up, smiling. "She hates when people make a fuss over her." Her dark eyes roamed over Gail's body, hands a moment behind.

That made her feel sexy. "Do you remember when you made me dinner? When I got promoted the first time?" Holly paused and nodded. "The way you looked at me when I came downstairs..." She trailed off and looked at Holly's face.

Even without her glasses on, Holly was focused on Gail just then. Her lips were turned into that smile that wasn't the careless, quirk to the side, but the one that was soft and private. The smile that was for Gail. The smile that said she loved her and her alone. It was a rare smile from Holly, one with dimples and scrunched eyes. The first time Gail had seen it, she was drunk and shorn in Holly's bathtub.

She'd called Holly the coolest chick ever and there, in a flash, was the smile with teeth, followed by this smile. This one where she thought Gail was beautiful. That smile made Gail rethink her night and how it would end. The smile made her reconsider what she was and what she wanted to be.

Reaching back, Holly wound her hair around itself, getting it out of the way. They didn't have to say another word. They knew how the night was going to end. Gail smiled back, feeling full of wonder and awe. She had this. She had this woman who wanted her for who she was, who never asked her to stop being her, who made her better.

Who loved her.

Whom she loved.

Gail smiled back and said nothing because she couldn't think of anything to say, and because she trusted Holly would know and understand what she meant with the look. Because she knew what Holly meant with that look.

But, as Holly tugged Gail's silky nightgown up, as Gail lifted her shoulders to help slip it off, and as Holly leaned down to kiss the newly available skin, she spoke. She breathed out a word. "Yes."

And Holly, Holly repeated it, her breath washing over Gail's chest. "Yes."

* * *

As she took the shotgun seat without a complaint, Nick asked, "Late night?"

He was not the first person that day to remark on the dark circles under her eyes. "Noisy roommates." She sucked down half of her coffee, hoping it would help.

Nick, unlike anyone else who might hear that, took sympathy. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, aviators, and handed them over. "How the hell did Dov put up with it," he muttered.

Sliding the glasses on, Vivian pointed out, "Mom only slept there once, and she swears it was just sleeping."

"I was thinking Chris, but..." He smiled. "Sorry. Gail's ... Yeah."

"Why do I keep forgetting you guys went out?"

"Selective memory?"

She smiled at him. "Maybe." Looking out the window, Vivian caught her reflection. Aviators. "Hey, you'll know. All the pictures of Mom as a rookie, she has these aviator glasses. But then, after she started dating Mom- Holly- she doesn't. Where'd they go?"

Nick snorted. "You're wearing them." What the what? Vivian turned and stared at her TO. "Gail gave them back to me after she started dating Holly. Said she forgave me for Andy and she didn't need them anymore."

The sunglasses were Nick's. "She stole them?"

"No... I ..." He paused and looked worried.

There were few reasons he'd be that skittish about the topic, given everything else they'd talked about over the last six months. "Collins, I know about the engagement," she said dryly. "The whole thing. Including how you split because Elaine terrorized you."

Nick looked relieved. "I left them. On accident."

"Sounds like Mom," she decided and looked back on the city. They rode in silence for a while, and then she asked, "Collins..."

"Oh god... Now what?"

Vivian punched his shoulder. "Does the city feel funny?"

Rubbing his shoulder, Nick looked around at the stoplight. "Empty. I mean, it's November, but ... It's lifeless"

Lifeless. That was a great description. Vivian scowled at the city around them. "School's in session. There should be that vibe, right?"

"You're not wrong, Peck," he agreed.

They drove in silence, trying to figure out the reason the city felt so strange, when the radio squawked at them. "1504. Report of shots fired at Rodgers Private Elementary."

"Copy that," replied Vivian. "Five out." She eyed Nick. "No backup?"

"Must not be a serious report," Nick said and shrugged. The car slowed as they reached the small school. It was dark and seemingly empty. "Is it a holiday I don't know about?"

"No." She pulled her phone out to check. "Oh. Apparently its founders day for the place." Showing him the webpage, her skin crawled. Nick seemed to share the feeling and parked the cruiser.

He got out. "Dispatch, 9957 and 4727 on foot at Rodgers Private Elementary."

The now familiar voice of dispatch Tassie replied. "9957, Dispatch. Copy."

Vivian flipped her camera on and muttered her badge and location. "Do you see something?"

"I do not," replied Nick. Which meant he felt something wrong in the air. They both put a hand by their guns, feeling the tension. "Gate's not locked." He pushed it open.

Together they walked around the schoolyard, checking the doors and exteriors. Just as Vivian was considering saying they'd made it all up in their heads, the gym door burst open and a man plowed into her, sending her flying to the cement.

The sunglasses managed to stay on her face. Five years of parkour practice kicked in. Vivian rolled, popped back onto feet, and took off after the man. She was faster than Nick, sprinting dead out while she heard her TO call in that she was in pursuit.

"Damn it, stop! Police!" She shouted at him, but the man kept running. His bad luck to be set against the holder of the fastest time on the obstacle course for their class at the academy. Vivian was gaining on him.

He skidded as he rounded a corner, hand touching the ground. "Run," he shouted. "Coppers!"

Well hell. Vivian slapped her radio. "Collins! He's got friends!"

"Copy! Peck, wait for me."

It was a bit late. She rounded the corner and saw the last thing she wanted to see. Men with guns.

When she told Gail about it later, she admitted she had absolutely no idea how she'd done it. Gail told her to not, under any circumstances, tell Holly that. But in that moment, five guys in the colors of Anton Hill's gang with guns in their hands, gave her the ability to launch herself backwards and behind a corner.

She scraped her elbow as she landed, awkwardly as fuck, grateful for the winter jackets they wore. Now the glasses flew off her face and shattered on the cement. "4727. 10-33! Five armed!" Vivian had to let go of her radio, shoes scrambling for purchase, fingers clawing the cement, as she threw herself out of the line of site. Some small part of her brain heard the gate smash (the back gate, not the one they'd come in through) and cars race off.

"Peck!" Nick, God bless the man, was running full tilt. "Where'd they get you?!"

"What?!" Vivian stared at Nick as he grabbed her upper arms. "Get me? What? I fell!"

Nick's eyes were wide. Wild. Panicked. "The blood..."

They both turned to look at the blood. It wasn't on her. She was near it, but not in it. Thank god. Holly never would have let her hear the end of that. "I'm okay, Nick, I'm okay." Vivian let him help her to her feet though. "I think I broke your sunglasses."

Looking down, Nick saw the lenses. "They had a good run," he muttered. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay..." She rubbed her elbow. "Are they gone?"

"Looks like we came at the end of a hit," he decided. They carefully navigated their way to the scene, following the blood trail to a dead man. "I'll call it in, you stay here."

Vivian nodded, letting the cool air help calm her racing heart. She needed to tell the ETF twits thank you. Half listening to Nick call in the situation, she studied the scene. Bullet holes were nowhere to be found. There was blood in a trail, though, which they'd founded ended in a man shot once in the knee and once in the head. Twice in the head, she corrected. Double tap, execution style. Awesome.

There was a rustle from the side. The bushes. They backed a wall, though, so there was nowhere to go.

Vivian pivoted, gun out. "Collins," she said in a low voice.

In a heartbeat, Nick was beside her, gun drawn. "Police," he said firmly. "Come out with your hands up."

There was a second rustle. Then a small head popped up. Jesus Christ. Vivian put her gun away first. "Whoa, whoa, you're okay," she said, holding her hands up to show they were empty.

The child was filthy. Gender undetermined, it was under ten based on size. "I didn't do it," said the child in a tremulous voice.

Vivian couldn't help the smile. "We believe you." The child's eyes were locked on Nick, though, wide and doubtful. Glancing back, Vivian saw Nick still had his gun out. "He's just making sure no one else is going to come shoot at us," she said, trying to pitch her tone to get Nick to step back.

He hesitated but finally did. "I'm going to secure the scene," he said. "You got this, Peck?"

For Christ's sake, it was a kid. "Yes, sir," she replied. As Nick left, the child barely moved. "What's your name?" The child shook it's head. Right. "My name's Vivian."

"That's an old lady name."

"Not real popular, I know," she smiled. The kid sat down, dropping out of sight. "Hey, hey, kid, look, you know you're safe with us."

"Not."

Vivian moved towards the shrubbery. "Not?"

"No. Not."

God, kids were annoying sometimes. "Well. Can't help 'not' can I?" The kid shook it's head and hunkered down. Yeah. It was going to be like this. "So. How about I tell you about yesterday?" She caught a pair of blue eyes looking confused. "Yesterday I had a big test. Big test."

"You have tests?"

"Sure do. I'm a new cop. I have tests all the time. Driving tests, obstacle course, paper tests. All sorts of things. Sucks." The kid smiled a little. "Me and my best friend, we were the only ones who passed this test, first time out."

"Was it hard?"

"Sure was. All our tests are hard."

"I hate school."

"Me too. I flunked a class once, on purpose, and got in so much trouble." There was a soft scuff behind her and Vivian glanced at Nick. Impatient. "So. Do you have an old person's name?"

The child's head shook. Then nodded. Then shook again. "Skip," came the whispered name. Still could be gender androgynous, realized Vivian. Awesome.

"Skip's cool. Skip can be a boy or a girl name. Vivian's kind of only for girls." She jerked her thumb at Nick. "His name's Nick. Could go either way."

"Girls aren't named Nick," sneered the child. The boy. Definitely a boy.

"Nikki is a girl's name," she corrected. The boy scowled. "Look, Skip. A whole mess of cops are going to show up here. Cops and scientists. They're going to want to look at everything. I think you'd feel better if you came back with us, me and Nick, to the station to talk about all this. Okay?"

He hesitated. "What if I don't want to talk?"

"I can't make you," admitted Vivian. "But. If you do talk to us, we can help."

Slowly Skip stood up. His clothes were relatively clean, it had only been his face that was filthy. Vivian didn't see any blood on the kid. That was good. "Okay," he said, and stepped out from the bushes.

Nick reached over and Skip flinched. The police officers shared a look. "Okay," mused Nick. "Skip, you don't have any ... You don't have any blood on you, do you?" The small head shook. No. "Okay then. You, my man, get to ride in the back of the cruiser."

Fixing Nick with a droll look too old for his years, Skip walked with them to the patrol car, just as backup and the lab showed up. They let him climb in and Vivian stood by the door, rather then just locking him in like a criminal. Nick left them there while he talked to the other officers and then came back. "Okay, Peck. Let's roll. I'll call Inspector Peck when we get there."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Seriously?"

Skip frowned. "Another Peck?"

"There are a million," sighed Vivian but she knew he was planning for Gail to show up. "It's her day off, Nicholas," she warned him.

"Yeah, I know." They got in the front of the car and buckled up.

The ride to the station was more silent and tense than Vivian would have liked. She understood the goal was probably to get Gail in to talk with the kid, since Gail was notably great with kids. And Nick... For someone who'd killed people, who'd seen death, he was pretty dismissive and impatient with Skip.

For someone who'd been in the system, he didn't feel sympathetic. Nick probably never dealt with his shit. Had Vivian? It was hard to tell from inside. Nick had been older, though. Almost a teenager. That had made the difference in their ability to empathize with Skip, but neither had really sorted through their crap.

Once, when she was eight or so, around the time Chris died, she'd mentioned that to Gail. Her mother pointed out that some people dealt with their pain and some people didn't. Nick had been running from his for years and probably still was.

Instead of taking Skip to interrogation, Vivian gestured for him to sit at her desk while Nick talked on the phone. "He's weird," announced Skip.

"He is," Vivian agreed. "Hungry? Thirsty? We can order pizza." Skip's eyes lit up and Vivian grinned. "Right. There's a killer pizza they make down the road. Trust me here, kid, we want plain cheese." Vivian dialed in the order.

Lara was more than happy to pick up the pizza in exchange for a slice, leaving Vivian alone with Skip. Apparently getting a hold of Gail was proving harder than Nick had hoped.

Propping her feet up on the desk, Vivian asked, "So I'm right about the pizza, yeah?"

"S'good," agreed the kid. "Better than the stuff Antony gets me." His face closed up suddenly. Pain.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "About Antony. That was him, right?" Skip nodded. "Was he your brother?"

Skip shook his head. "Last ... The last home we were in, he was my big brother."

Oh. Vivian knew that feeling. But that meant Antony was younger than he looked. Or maybe he was from a while ago. "He wasn't in the home anymore?"

"No. He ran away." Skip munched the pizza.

"Did you?" The boy shook his head. "Do you know who shot him?" The boy nodded. "We do too," she said quietly.

"Are they gonna try to kill me?"

"Depends what you saw," she admitted. There was no point in lying to a kid who'd just seen someone die. "You want to tell me?"

Shaking his head, Skip took another piece of pizza. "I didn't see anything."

Okay. Vivian sighed and looked up. "Well. How about why were you there?'

"Why were _you_ there," countered the boy.

She smiled. "Someone reported shots fired," Vivian said softly. "We came to see if we could help."

"That's stupid." Skip was derisive. "They coulda shot you too."

"I know. I saw them, with their guns. Chased one guy and ran right into them."

The boy's eyes went wide. "Were you scared?" She nodded. "But... Why?"

Vivian tilted her head. "Because of you and Antony," she told him. "Because what if there was someone like you, and you needed help. Because people like Antony shouldn't die. That's my job."

Skip's face clearly said she had a crazy as fuck job. "You saw them? The ... Hills?"

She nodded at him. "I did." She held up her elbow for him to inspect. "See? Got that through my jacket. I jumped so fast, I coulda won the Olympics." The boy smiled at that.

"You wouldn't wanna save Antony. He was doing bad things."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Drug running. That's how come he had to run away. They found out."

They could look for a teenager named Antony in the same home as a younger boy named Skip. The cross reference would probably take minutes. "For the Hill guys?"

Skip nodded and then shook his head. "For them and Spikes."

"Spikes? Who does Spikes work for?"

"Three Rivers."

There was a cough behind them. Vivian looked up and saw her mother. No. She saw Detective Inspector Peck. "Honestly, Nicholas. Looks like your rookie has it under control." But Gail walked around the railing and came up beside her. "Hello, Skip."

Skip eyed Gail and said to Vivian, "She looks okay."

"She is," promised Vivian. "Skip, this is ... This is Gail. She's one of the best detectives."

Pursing her lips, Gail smiled. "Thank you," she said to Vivian. "So. Skip." Gail sat on the desk and picked up a piece of the pizza. "Did the Hill gang know about your brother double dipping?"

When Skip looked confused, Vivian explained, "She means did they know he was working for both of them."

"He didn't think Hill did. Spikes knew and told him to keep in quiet."

Tilting her head, Gail asked, "Spikes I don't know. Who's he?"

"Her. That's not her real name. I'm not supposed to know her real name, but Antony told me." He shredded his napkin. "Veronica."

Gail's eyes widened for a moment. "Veronica." She put the pizza down and pulled out her phone. "This her?"

Skip blinked and nodded. "Yeah! How'd you do that?"

"Because I, Skip, am totally awesome." Gail beamed. "Peck, I'm going have to steal this one. But you did good."

"Thank you, ma'am," she smiled at her mother.

Wrinkling her nose, Gail gestured. "Epstein needs you rooks in his office." She moved her hands, signing that she was sorry but she'd have to miss it.

Vivian signed back an okay. "Yes, ma'am," she nodded. "Skip, you can tell her everything, okay? I promise." Giving her mother a nod, Vivian fixed her tie and walked around to Dov's office where Gerald was keeping watch.

"You're late, Peck." Gerald didn't sound like he was joking.

"Sorry, sir. I was handing a case over to OC." She glanced to where Dov and Noelle were talking and then the long bench where the other rookies sat and looked nervous.

Dov caught sight of her "Peck! Sit down."

Noelle walked out of the office, smiling at all the rookies. "Aronson. You're first." And she vanished up the stairs.

With a smile, Vivian squeezed in between Rich and Lara, assuming alphabetical order like everything else. "Jenny, go," hissed Lara. As they watched their classmate step into Dov's office, Lara asked. "Why were you late? He made us wait for you!"

Down below, Gail was talking quietly with Skip, who was smiling at her. "See the kid? We found him. Witness to a gang shooting." They were all a little impressed. Christian though asked what happened to her arm. "Oh, I wiped out."

"Queen of the gym wiped out?" Rich's smiled a near sneer.

"That's really unattractive," Lara told him.

Duncan coughed. "Guys? Shut up."

They fell silent and waited. Gail had told her what to expect. Andy had as well. Oliver had promised she'd be fine. Holly had told her about the oral exams doctors had to take, since they had a lot of talking, and how it confirmed her desire to not be a people doctor. Thinking about that, her awkward doctor mom, made her feel better.

Jenny came back out with a look of shell shock. "Um, Christian. It's you." She fought the smile on her face but flashed a thumbs up to Lara.

Not too long after, Christian came out, the grin damn well plastered on. "Rich." Vivian held a hand up and Christian slapped it with the hardest of high fives. Was there a doubt? None of them had reason to doubt.

When Rich came out, looking serious, he said "Volk."

Lara blinked. "P comes before-"

"He said Volk," Rich said firmly. His face was grim and set. No. Serious. As if everything had come to roost at last. This was all real for him now. Rich gave Vivian a curious look as he walked down to the Parade room.

"Waiting ain't so bad," said Gerald. Duncan. Fuck it, Gerald.

She knew he'd been held back. Twice. "Do you regret it? The thing with McNally?"

Blinking at her, the man nodded. "I do. I was tryin' too hard and I fucked it up. I wasn't ready." Tilting his head at her, Gerald asked, "You think you are?"

Vivian sighed. "Maybe?"

The door opened and Lara walked out, smothering a smile. "Peck."

Time to go. Vivian walked into Dov's office. She remembered when it had been Oliver's. "Sir."

"Sit," he said with a blank expression. Unreadable. "You know, you're the only one with parents still in blue."

She nodded. Jenny's father had retired, such as it was, and the rest of the Terzakis clan was all uncles and cousins. Chris was dead. But she, unlike the rest, saw the job every day in Gail. "Yes, sir," she said quietly.

"I have this." Dov held up the report. "It says a lot about you. Mostly from Nick. Andy too, though. Duncan... It's impossible to find a TO who doesn't know you. Who hasn't known you most of your life."

Again, Vivian nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's the problem, you know. We all know you. We've known you forever and we watched you grow up. This... This is growing up too." Dov sighed and dropped the papers. "Why did you take Peck?"

She blinked. "Because... A lot of reasons." None of the reasons were ones she wanted to tell Dov though. "Because it mattered."

"You didn't expect the easy road?"

Oh, that. "No, no sir," she sighed a little. "It wasn't that." The easy road would have been to be Vivian Peck Stewart. But she didn't really want to explain all of her reasons to Dov, who didn't know everything. "It's complicated. But it's not that. Never was ... I see the job, sir. I know the price we pay because of what we do. I... I know about the divorce rate and I know why. I know we die." She cleared her throat. "I wanted this. Want this."

Dov sighed and leaned back. "You know that the uniform doesn't make you a Peck."

"No, no it doesn't. But I do." When Dov's eyes widened, she added, "I'm a Peck. It's like ... Waking up and figuring out that was who you always were, you just didn't have a name for it. I do. I'm a Peck. And I'm in uniform. I'm- I want to be what the Pecks _should_ be. In blue."

He looked thoughtful. "You know why you went last, right?" Vivian shook her head. "Because you wouldn't panic, waiting out there. You are calm under pressure."

Vivian snorted a laugh. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. Cool in a crisis. You do the right thing and you think about it later. Which is ... That's what I worry about with you, Peck."

Biting her lower lip, Vivian said, "I can't not think about it."

"There's thinking and there's dwelling. Don't dwell. It only gets harder from here on out." He smiled at her. "You know you passed, right? I mean, Duncan passed, and most of you are better coppers than he still is."

Relief flooded her system. "I passed?"

And Dov laughed. "You know, half the time I see Gail in there. Or Holly. Which is weird. But then I see you. You had a messy year, kid."

Vivian sighed. "I didn't expect anything else."

"You're going to be a Peck in a different way," he told her, and stood up, extending a hand.

Scrambling to her feet, Vivian took the hand. "Thank you... Thank you, sir."

"Good. Go get to Parade and then we have to let your mom kick our asses."

It was a blur, walking to the Parade room. Vivian wasn't sure if she was smiling or not, but realized it had to be 'not' since Lara asked. "So?"

"Oh! Yes," she nodded. "Everyone?" Everyone had passed.

"It's official," smiled Christian. "We're all part of the family now."

McNally shouted at them as Dov and Noelle walked in. "Rookies! Line 'em up"

Their sergeant, her Uncle Dov, handed out scissors to the TOs, as Noelle took a long look at them. "So. I know you kids think you know everything. You don't. And that's okay. This is _not_ a graduation, this is your next step. This is recognition of the work you've put in. The worth we've seen in you. And this is the start of the rest of your career." Noelle's eyes stopped on Vivian for a moment. "Today you are no longer probationary officers. You're still rookies, don't forget that for a minute. But." She waved a hand. "Epstein?"

Nodding, Dov picked up the thread. "You have proven yourselves to be loyal," Dov's eyes landed on Christian. "Dedicated." He looked at Jenny. "Resourceful." That was Lara. "Capable," he said to Rich. And then Dov looked at Vivian. "Courageous." Her eyes widened at him and she fought the smile. "So. It is with great pleasure that I cut you loose today." Dov stepped out of the way. "And in the tradition of Fifteen Division, TOs. Ready? Coppers, cut those ties."

There were hoots as Andy, Duncan, and the rest of the TOs stepped up to cut ties. "So." Nick held up his scissors. "You ready for this?"

"All my life, sir," she smiled.

Nick smiled back and cut her tie, handing it to her. "Keep that," he said softly. "You did good today, Viv. I'm really proud of you."

In so many ways, she was a child of all of them. Nick and Andy, no children and never married, treated her like their niece. So did Dov and Chloe. So did Traci, Steve, Oliver, and even Gerald. She'd grown up under their wings. They'd guarded and guided her every step of the way. And now they were letting her fly.

"That means a lot, Nick," she said softly, gripping the end of her tie. Vivian hesitated and looked at the others. They were hugging and cheering. Christian was hugging Gerald for crying out loud! She stepped in and hugged him. "Thanks, Uncle Nick," Vivian whispered, and moved back.

Nick's eyes were wide. He wasn't able to even try to hug her back. "Well. Congratulations," he managed.

Luckily, Steve cut in, throwing an arm around Nick's shoulders. "My niece," Steve sang out. "How's it feel, baby Peck?"

"Feels real," Vivian smiled.

The clear voice of Dov rang through the room. "Ladies and gentlemen. I give you the new and improved rookies of Fifteen."

* * *

She found her wife on the phone in the hallway. "Well, I'm asking now," sighed Gail. "You know you owe me this much." Gail's head was down, concentrating entirely on the phone. "It's not... It's not for me, it's for Viv," she insisted.

Holly tapped her watch, sending Gail a heartbeat. The blonde's eyes popped up and landed on Holly, immediately followed by a smile. The conversation on the phone ended quickly after that. "Everything okay?"

"Yep," smiled Gail, taking a hold of Holly's waist. "You missed mommy/daughter time."

"You missed our kid being cut loose."

Gail squinted. "She knows why. See aforementioned mommy/daughter time. We worked a case of a gang shooting and a kid witness."

She'd known Gail too long. "Did you bully Anne into helping?"

"Oh, no. She came right away when I called. That was the judge." Gail eyed Holly. "Why do you have a gun?"

And Gail knew her too well. "Damn it, Peck. It's in a box, wrapped, in a bag! How do you know?"

Grinning, Gail picked the bag out of Holly's hand. "You hate holding guns. Even in bags, wrapped in a box, sweetheart. It shows." Gail's eyes went wide. "It's light... Did you get me a new pocket pistol?"

"Nope, nope, not telling." Holly crossed her arms and scowled.

"You have zero poker face," teased Gail. "You know you don't have to come to the range."

Holly's smile was the lopsided one she'd been embarrassed about as a kid. Goofy Holly Stewart with her sideways smile and the glasses and the knock knees. "I know. But you like it. And I love seeing you so happy." She leaned in and kissed Gail again.

"That's alright then." Gail's phone rang and she sighed. "I swear if this isn't a warrant..."

"Go." Holly shoved Gail gently. Stealing one last kiss, Gail took the call and fell back into work mode.

Holly took the bag back and went down to see the celebration. She spotted her troublesome daughter smiling at something Christian was saying. Holly lifted a hand and Vivian clapped Christian's shoulder before coming over.

The girl held up her severed tie. "Did you see?"

"I missed it. Not that there was a doubt in my mind, honey, but I thought this was next month or later."

"Yeah, they rushed us a little," Vivian sighed. "Do you have an extra tag or a box?"

Holly blinked. "For ... What?"

Blushing, Vivian gestured at the tie end clipped to her collar. "I want to give it to Mom."

"She'll love it," smiled Holly. "I'll find you something. Are you ready to go?"

Vivian looked back at the group. "I will be in a minute. I need to .. Do a thing first."

Holly watched Vivian head back over to the group and then disappear into a room. Her kid had made the next step. "I wonder if it's harder because she's _here_ ," mused Noelle, coming up beside her. "Maybe it would have been easier for us all if we'd stuck her with Swarek or Anderson."

With a loud sigh, Holly shook her head. "You know, I have no idea. How's Olivia doing?"

"Good, good. Sophie's moved back in, though. Just when I thought I was getting an empty nest." Noelle smiled. "At least I have more free time."

So it was true. "When?"

"January. Your Pecks didn't say?"

Pecks. Plural. Her Pecks. Which meant Vivian had known before Gail mentioned it. "No, but you know how they get about people's private lives."

Noelle rolled her eyes. "True. Gossip is not their style."

"Anathema to their very souls," smiled Holly. "Except Steve. Does that have anything to do with why you cut these guys loose early? It's usually a whole year."

Instead of a bluster about how they were ready, Noelle looked sad. "Enrollment is at an all time low. There aren't enough to have a class until summer, if we're lucky. We need them to be ready faster."

Which did not necessarily mean they were ready now. "Thank you for making me feel better." Holly knew she sounded insincere and bitter. But. That was her daughter being needed to be ready faster. Too fast.

"Hey," sighed Noelle. "You know I wouldn't let it happen if I didn't think they could do it. We're not talking about Duncan here."

They both looked over at Duncan, dancing and making the rookies laugh. "Gail says he's really good with junkies. Like... Disturbingly good."

Noelle nodded. "It's weird. He never told anyone why, but he is." She turned to study Holly's face. "She's ready for what's next, Holly. You know that."

Nodding back, Holly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know. It... It scares me more than knowing Gail's out there. Gail... She knows what to do, Noelle. This ... Do they always look so young and vulnerable?"

The other woman nodded. "They do. They really do. Gullible, naive, hopeful, trusting... Even Gail did back then. But they have this faith. And we have to have it in them." Noelle turned around, leaning her back against the railing. "Just wait'll we make her be a hooker."

Holly snorted a laugh out her nose.

Okay. That did help. A little.

* * *

Vivian held the severed end of her tie and studied it for a moment. She was still a rookie. That wasn't a question. And this validation felt less than it might because she knew things the others didn't. But the revelry of the others around her was, a little, infectious.

"Hey, why so serious?" Rich threw an arm around her shoulders.

"Richard. You have two seconds before I break your arm."

He snatched it back like he been burned. "Damn, Peck. Cutting loose is supposed to be a fun day! We're going to the Penny to party!"

Vivian shoved the tie in her pocket. "I'll meet you guys there. I just have a couple things to do first." Rich opened his mouth. "Dude, Rich. I promise."

He started to object and Lara cut in. "You're going to check on that kid?"

"Yeah, I am. And then I've got a thing, but I swear, I'll be at the Penny."

"Shoo," grinned Lara. "I'll keep dumb and dumber here outta your hair."

"Thanks." As Vivian headed down the hall, she heard Lara explain to Rich that he was both dumb and dumber. She found young Skip, sitting on a chair, holding a bag. Social Services was with him. Anne was with him.

The social worker, her social worker, was her mothers' age. Somewhere between the two, Anne had grey hair and laugh lines and Vivian had always liked her. They'd all gone to her wedding. She wasn't a constant friend like Dov or Lisa, but she was always welcome when she showed up. "Vivian- Officer Peck." Anne smile, her eyes lighting up.

"Hey, Anne," she replied, trying to set the tone. "You've got Skip?"

"Hmm. Gail called in a favor," Anne admitted. They both looked at Skip, hugging the bag close. And Anne frowned at Vivian. "Is something wrong?"

Vivian scratched the back of her head. "No. No, just... Do you mind? I just... before he goes." She waved her other hand. "Skip. Do you mind? I wanted to talk. Before Anne takes you off."

The boy shrugged and Anne stood up. "I can't think of anyone better. I'm going to go get some coffee and say hello to Sgt. Epstein."

As Anne left, Vivian sat down and leaned back with a loud sigh. She struggled to find the words to start with.

"My least favorite part was this," Vivian finally said. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Skip's confused look. "The bag, the chair, the waiting. And then, you know, Anne's okay, but she was never there, in that seat. She's always been in this one." Vivian sucked on her lower lip. "This is the first time I've been in this seat."

Skip was skeptical. "You're a baby cop."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Not so much now. They cut me loose."

"Is that why your tie is messed up?"

She smiled. "It is. The tie is a symbol of what changed." She looked at Skip. "A lot about me has changed. But I still remember... I remember that seat." Vivian pointed at Skip. "I hated that seat. Holding everything in a bag, wondering if you were going to a temporary place or a permanent one. Wondering if it would suck. If they were mean or scary or ..." She trailed off.

The boy's eyes were wide. "How long?"

"Not that long. Half a year." She stretched her legs out. "I was really lucky. They put me in a home without any other kids. It wasn't supposed to be permanent. Except then it was. And Anne, that lady who's helping you today? She did that."

Skip hugged his bag. "She said I'm gonna have to leave Toronto."

He'd seen the murder. It was probably safer. "Are you scared?" He nodded. "I was too. I'm scared a lot. But today, when they cut me loose, they said I was courageous."

"How can you be scared and brave?"

"I'm brave because I'm scared," she said quietly. "I don't let the being scared stop me from doing the right things and being the best person I can." Exhaling loudly, she added, "It's _hard_. But I keep doing it."

Skip frowned. "I can't be that brave."

"Not alone," she said. "But. What if I was with you?"

He looked up. "You can't come with me." He knew.

And he was right. Vivian pulled the tie end out of her pocket. "This tie, this reminded me that every time I got scared, there were other coppers out there to help me. People who watched out for me." She pulled the clip-on end off her shirt. "This end... This I'm giving to my Mom."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah. You met her," smiled Vivian. "Gail adopted me when I was a little older than you. And today's her birthday. So ... I want her to know how much I love her, and how much she means to me."

Skip looked skeptical. "I don't have a Gail."

She held out the tail end of her tie to Skip. "No. But every time you get scared, you can look at this and remember that there are people who are there for you."

The boy took the tie. "Do you have a dad? Won't he want the other half?"

Vivian blinked. A dad? Sometimes kids were so heteronormative. "Don't worry, they'll understand when I tell 'em why I gave you that." Now was not the time to get into semantics or how Vivian had two mommies. It didn't matter to him anyway.

They sat in silence for a little while, until Anne came back. "Vivian..."

She knew. It was time for Skip to go. "Be brave out there," she told him, standing up. "Even when you're scared."

He nodded and Vivian got up, leaving him and hoping... trusting it would work out for him.

* * *

She hated to admit it, but it was a fun birthday party.

Since she was ten, Gail had done her best to avoid her own birthday parties, going so far as to not actually tell people the date. Of course every police officer knew, and of course her wife and kid knew. But they all also knew she didn't want to have a 'thing' done for her.

Except she kind of did now, and it was probably Holly's fault. She hated the being happy and the fake attention. But … fakers and liars had slowly worked their way out of her life, and the people who were left were good people.

Holly, who blessedly did not attempt to sing karaoke, was laughing at the scoreboard the rookies had pinned up to the wall in the Penny. A sheepish Vivian was pointing out her own name and scores while an earnest Christian all but jumped up and down to gesture at things. The other kids were cheerful. She couldn't blame Dov for cutting them loose today, and she didn't really mind that it ran into her birthday party. They were all happy and wanted to sing and laugh and it took a little pressure off Gail to be happy just for her own sake.

"Whatcha holding, Garbage Pail?" Her brother sat down with a glass of Jim Bean for her.

Looking at her hand, Gail smiled. "A tie." She held it up for him and Steve's eyes widened. Vivian had put a quick tag on it, saying 'Happy Birthday' and presenting it to Gail as they left the range.

Taking the tie, Steve turned it over in his hands. "I am officially old," he sighed. "How is your kid a cop?"

"I have a lot of sympathy for our parents now," admitted Gail, taking the tie back and smiling. "Nick cut it off. Which I missed because I was helping my idiot brother with that other case." Steve winced a little, but Gail went on. "It's going to be a problem, you know."

He nodded. "Oh I know." Steve swirled his drink and sipped it. "They're going to shoot it out at this rate. The gun trade's hitting a high note."

She knew. She'd read the report too. Gail sighed. "They're good kids, Steve."

"They're idiots, Gail. They have no idea how bad things are. They could die." Steve paused. "How are you not insane? Vivian's one of them. She might..."

It was strange, but Gail wasn't worried about that. Maybe it was having faced her own death on the job that did it. Maybe it was just a comfort of knowing her daughter wasn't just a good cop in her eyes. Everyone saw it.

"She might," agreed Gail at length, watching Vivian squirm out from under Christian's arm and shove him in the chest. "But I have to let go of the bicycle sooner or later."

Steve shook his head. "I couldn't do it. I can't... How do you _not_ be our parents for this?"

"I wanted to put a tracker on her bike, but Holly wouldn't let me."

Her brother laughed. "You know what I mean."

She did. She knew he wore his fears closely. The terror of being a man who was too distant from his children. The pain of a man who hit his kid, or let them be hit. Steve was petrified of being Bill, or worse, Harold.

Maybe it was the fear that made Gail strive to do better. She knew how evil she could be, and every day she tried to be the person worthy of her wife and kid instead. She could be petty, venal, mean, or cruel. And yes, Gail was bitchy, sarcastic, cold, and mean spirited. She was the person who danced at other people's petty failures.

And she was the person who held her wife when she cried.

And she was the person who taught her daughter how to shoot.

And she was the person who let them laugh at her when they played sports.

"I wanted more, Steve," she said quietly. "I wanted this. With Holly and you, idiot. I wanted to feel like there's more. So ... I made more."

The older man looked at her thoughtfully. "I saw you in an incubator. How come you got so much older than me?" Steve kissed her forehead and left the table.

Moments later, someone hugged her from behind. "Dov. I will break your arm if you don't let go of me in two seconds."

The arms flew off. "Geeze, and here I thought I'd get a hug from you for passing your kid."

She snorted. "She did that on her own, and you know it, Last-place-Stein."

Dov looked wounded. "I think Andy cheated."

"McNally was _bound_ to win one year," laughed Gail. By three points, McNally had finally, after twenty years, won the shoot-off. Nick rolled in fourth.

"She better watch out," smiled Chloe. "That kid of yours has a steady hand."

"Does _better_ in a crisis," Dov noted. "When are you headed out?"

Gail glanced over at where Holly was, helping Traci hustle the rookies at pool. "Tomorrow morning. If I hadn't had to work today, we'd be gone already." She didn't mind really. Nick was right to call her, but for the wrong reasons. He'd called because it was a traumatized kid, and Gail was great with them. He hadn't know Vivian was great with messed up kids too. Mind, neither had Gail, but she wasn't shocked.

It turned out the kid was witness to the gang killing of a runner used by Dr. Veronica Van Lowe, aka Spikes. The doctor to the Three Rivers gang.

The granddaughter of Tomás Zanaro, Bobby Zanaro's uncle. One of three brothers.

It was so stupid it was brilliant. She'd been using kids like Antony to run drugs, bringing her samples to see which shops had been tampered with. Not that Skip actually knew all that, but the information he provided went a long way to explain it. Van Lowe was a head of the gang. Bobby Jr. was a head of the gang. Find that third one and they could sort it out.

But they didn't talk about that just yet.

The rookies were soundly loosing to Traci and Holly at pool. The older women had a nice stack of bills up to their name too, much to Gail's amusement. Deigning to slum, Gail demonstrated her talent at darts, causing Vivian to joke that if it was a weapon, Gail could do it. For her revenge, Gail asked if Vivian wanted her friends to know about her hidden talent. To her surprise, they all knew about the parkour thing.

There was no singing, not that anyone asked. The cupcakes for her birthday, brought by Oliver, were shared with the rookies. Someone still snapped a photo of how Oliver spelled out "Fifty!" with them. They kept the excitement up, after all, which was nice, and Oliver ... Well he was Oliver. He loved everyone and was loved by them in turn.

And Oliver told the rookies stories. Like how Andy arrested an undercover Swarek on her first day. Like how Traci caught a serial rapist and beat him with a bike lock. Or how Nick jumped off a pier to catch a child predator. Dov once stepped on a bomb. Steve had lost a witness and tumbled on to a smuggling ring when they found him. Chloe had busted an international car theft ring. Gail, worried about what her story would be, reminded Oliver about the time they busted a grow-op.

Not to be left out, Holly told them about the first case she worked with Fifteen. A decade old body left in the woods. A case, Traci pointed out, that turned out to be a murder by a cop. That stunned most of them, though not Vivian who just looked at her mothers with a half-smile.

"Dude, why are you grinning, Peck? That's a horrible story!" Rich, the annoying bro, looked horrified.

"Because that was when my Moms met," she shrugged.

Gail threw a napkin at her daughter. "You had to, huh?" Vivian grinned and threw the napkin back.

But Lara, the one Vivian called too perceptive, grinned too. "You know, I didn't really think you two were related until just now. But I get it, that's where your weird humor comes from."

Laughing, Holly dropped her arms around Gail's neck from behind. "Oh you have no idea. It's insanity."

"Nah, I'm serious," said Lara. "Viv's all acting like she's chill but Inspector Peck is like this whole other level of bad ass cool and indifferent."

"Insouciant," offered Holly, sounding very amused.

"Mom, that actually means indifferent." Vivian rolled her eyes.

Gail grinned and glanced over at Rich, who was trying very hard not to look nervous. She looked at Vivian, flicking her eyes to Rich, silently asking if Rich knew. When her daughter nodded, Gail grinned even more. "Richard. I understand you met my wife?"

The boy went pale enough to qualify as a Peck. "Um. Yeah- yes ma'am."

She just smiled more at him and said nothing. The boy shifted and then clammed up. Sometimes it was fun to talk to them. Sometimes it was fun to just let them stew. Rich was clearly making himself terrified enough, so Gail let it ride.

The other girl in Vivian's class, Jenny, looked thoughtful. "Wait, did everyone of you guys meet your ... Er ... Did you _all_ meet at work?"

Oliver looked at them all. "They did. They did." He gestured with his beer. "Except mmmmmmm." Oliver stopped and pointed at Nick. "No. You did. Ah, ah. I did too. Celery, my wife, was a case. Someone accused her of being a witch and poisoning her."

Jenny's eyes went wide. "But she's not, right?"

With a laugh, Vivian replied. "Celery's totally a witch. But she didn't poison anyone."

It was nice to have the rookies as real family now, and not just Vivian. Rich put up with Duncan giving him hell for hitting on Holly, while Christian and Traci teased Jenny about her different boy a night. It went on like normal. Like they'd always been a part of Fifteen.

Vivian drove them home, having played designated driver as part of her birthday present. And then, in the morning, they left their daughter sleeping and went to the Peck cottage. November or not, winter nor not, it was their respite from the city and the crazy.

The city could deal with crazy without them for a few days. Especially now that these rookies were cut loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's intentional that some dialogue was lifted 100% from the show. I do that on purpose for some continuity. Also Andy was coached on how to do this by Oliver.
> 
> Tassie in Dispatch is exactly who you think she is. She's really bad at logistics.
> 
> The next chapter will go up in THREE weeks, not two.


	8. 01.08 Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kidnapping takes the worst turn it can. Who took him and why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, a few people were mad at Dov and saw his questioning of Vivian as character regression. He was playing Devil's Advocate. He's the sergeant and it's his job to make the rookies ready. He had to be sure Vivian knew herself because it's only going to get harder.
> 
> The rookies have been cut loose for almost a month. It's December, some time before Christmas. We'll kick things off with a coffee date that might be a little familiar.
> 
> A word of warning. This chapter takes a dark turn and is emotionally painful.

The coffee bistro was cozy, which was a welcome respite from the outside world. Cold. Cold. Cold. Vivian let the heat seep in for a moment, looking around for someone who fit the bill of her blind date. At a side table was a blonde woman about her age, nervously chewing her thumbnail. Bingo.

Vivian shucked her coat. "Hi, Gwen?"

The woman looked up, her face a mixture of relief and surprise. "Yes? Oh! You must be Vivian." Getting to her feet, she held out a hand. "It's nice, nice to meet you. I didn't know what you liked. To drink I mean. So I just... Um. I didn't order anything. For you. Or me. I think they're annoyed."

Rambling. Interesting. "Mostly coffee," Vivian replied. "I'll get some. Do you...?"

"Oh! Pumpkin spice?"

It wasn't a Starbucks, but pretty much every coffee shop had a version of that now. "Sure. Be right back." Vivian left her coat on the chair and went to get the coffees.

The barista eyed her as she came up and made the order. "We had a bet her date wasn't coming."

Smiling a little, Vivian pulled out her wallet. "I was stuck at work."

"She's _really_ nervous. First date?"

"Blind date," admitted Vivian, taking the mugs. "Thanks."

"Good luck," laughed the barista.

That was never heartening. Vivian stuck the polite smile on her face as she handed Gwen the coffee. "Here you go. Pumpkin spice."

To her surprise, Gwen frowned. "You were pretty chatty with the barista."

Vivian blinked and looked back. The barista was chatting up the next customer. "Ooookay," Vivian exhaled. "She's engaged."

"How... How do you know that?" Gwen looked surprised.

"She has a ring on, with a rock. And she was holding her hand like she wanted everyone to notice it."

Gwen stared at her. "I thought Kate was kidding..."

Kate, Lisa's erstwhile companion who still hated being called a girlfriend even though she and Lisa had lived together forever, was Gwen's boss and had set them up. At some point her aunts colluded and decided to help get their virtual niece laid. It was nice and well intentioned, though sometimes it was a bit weird. Like Gwen? Way too high strung. But she was a baby lawyer. Maybe it was to be expected. "Kidding?"

"You _are_ a cop."

Vivian smiled. "I am. I have a badge and everything."

Tilting her head, Gwen smiled. "Do they let you bring things home?"

Warning bells went off in Vivian's head. "Some things," she said carefully and sipped the coffee.

"Do you bring them with you?"

Vivian arched both eyebrows. When she'd had registered for the academy, Gail had made a passing remark about watching out for Badge Bunnies and Holly had turned red. It wasn't like Vivian didn't know that there were hordes of people who found the badge at total turn on, and honestly she wasn't opposed to the idea. If she looked good in uniform, good for her. That Holly found Gail attractive in her uniform was also good.

Some things related to the uniform just were not appealing. And Vivian had a feeling that they were about to be going that way. "Like…?"

Gwen leaned in and said, in a quieter voice. "Handcuffs?"

Yeah. She was going to kill Kate. "Ooookay," she sighed.

"I'm just saying, my apartment's not far from here—"

"No," cut in Vivian wearily. "This date just is not going well."

Gwen looked actually surprised. "We just got here."

Taking another swing of her coffee, Vivian put it down. "We did. But I'm going to finish this festive drink and then I'm going home. Alone."

Shaking her head, Gwen pointed out, "See, I should have known not to take a date with someone blue collar."

"I'm gonna go now," decided Vivian and got up. "Thanks for the coffee."

Bewildered, the baby lawyer said, "But… you paid."

When she got home, Holly was still up watching a game on the West Coast. "Shoot me, Mom," grumbled Vivian and she fell onto the couch, dangling her feet over the arm.

Holly smirked. "Oh dear. That bad?"

"She wanted to play with my handcuffs." There was a stifled snort from her mother. "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry, honey," managed Holly, but Vivian could hear the smile in her voice.

Vivian pulled a pillow over her face. "She also called me blue collar." There was a shift of the feel of the room. Vivian peeked over and saw her mother scowling. "Uh, it's fine, Mom. That's when I walked out."

Grimacing, Holly pulled her phone out and tapped into it. "I'm going to kill Lisa, don't mind me."

"Lisa- oh." The memory hit. Lisa called Gail blue collar. Now it was a joke. Then ... "Mom, it wasn't like that at all."

"It's not okay, Vivian. You have a degree in-"

"Mom!" Vivian had to raise her voice to get Holly to stop typing, and it startled her mother. "Gwen was an idiot. Kate and Lisa didn't set me up on purpose. Not for _that_. She's just ... Shallow and boring and she babbled in a way that wasn't attractive."

Holly sat still for a while and then put her phone down. "I feel like I need to run to protect you all the time," she muttered.

Hugging the pillow, Vivian tilted her head to regard her mother. "You're a good Mom, Mom."

"Yeah?" She sighed loudly. "Do you remember when you first called us Moms?"

Vivian blinked. "No." She remembered calling them Miss Holly and Miss Gail. She remembered shouting that Holly wasn't her mom. She remembered blaming things on Gail. But she didn't remember when she switched from Misses to names to Moms.

"You just said it one day, before we went to see my parents for Christmas the first time? Weeks after the adoption and you didn't say it, which was fine. We really didn't care. And ... and then you just said Moms. You went upstairs to go to bed and I remember you came back and asked for 'Mom' to read you a story."

That sounded like her. Vivian looked at the smile on Holly's face, a soft smile that reminded her how much she was wanted and loved. "You do really cool voices," admitted Vivian.

Holly laughed. It was a heartwarming laugh that filled Vivian with relief and protection. It was like her smiles and hugs. She just made people feel good. And Holly was phenomenal in a crisis, when anyone had a meltdown she was there and held them. "I learned them from my dad," Holly smiled.

"Grandpa's really good at them too," Vivian agreed.

"He is. But. When you called me Mom? That was the first day _my_ mom knew she'd raised me right."

Blinking, Vivian tried to sort that out. Grandma Lily didn't know she was a good mom, that she'd raised a good kid, until Holly was in her forties? "Well. You have twenty years to go, I guess," she finally said.

Holly's rich laugh prefaced the pillow that hit the side of Vivian's head. Vivian couldn't help but laugh too. At length, Holly sighed. "You sure you're going to be okay, home alone on Christmas?"

"Yep. Elaine and I are making lunch at Traci and Steve's, and then I'm working night so I'll open presents there after shift and sleep."

Shaking her head, Holly picked up the pillow. "Our first Christmas without you. I don't like it."

Vivian looked at her mother thoughtfully. "Mom, honest. I'll be fine. And it's good. For me."

"If you say so." Holly looked like she didn't buy it. Neither was Vivian, but it felt important in some odd way. "Tell you what, help me fix my draft picks will you? I need to kick Lily's ass."

* * *

The best thing about winter was knowing she didn't have to go out and patrol in it. Also the lack of night shifts helped keep her sleep patterns normal. Even if she was awake way too early right now. She could feel her wife awake in the bed and pressed her face a little closer.

"I don't miss my uniform," Gail mumbled into Holly's ribs, slinging her arm across her wife's waist.

Her wife laughed softly and put her tablet down with a soft clack. "Good morning."

Gail snuggled close and looked up. "What time is it?"

"Early. Go back to sleep."

Closing her eyes again, Gail sighed. "Too hot?"

"No, just woke up," admitted Holly. But she turned off her light and settled back in bed. That wasn't good. That meant Holly had either had a weird dream or she was feeling bad and didn't want to say anything.

Winter had been harder for Holly with each passing year. When they'd first figured out she was suffering from depression, the doctor had warned Gail that winter would be a bad season. The lack of sunlight might have a direct impact on Holly's moods. Might turned into 'did' pretty quickly. Now every time the daylight hours got shorter, Gail spent a little more time keeping an eye on her wife's emotional temperature.

"Hey," yawned Gail, propping herself up on one arm.

Holly sighed and patted Gail's arm. "I'm fine. Just can't sleep right."

"Mind racing?" There was a long pause before Holly nodded. Gail exhaled and reached up to caress Holly's face. That wasn't new either, though it wasn't seasonal. The medical term was 'racing thoughts' which just meant what it sounded like. Holly's thoughts were racing. There was no cure for Holly's brain running off with itself. Sometimes she just couldn't quiet things and, thus, couldn't sleep.

"Go to sleep," Holly said, a little morosely. She hated keeping Gail up.

Gail nodded and brushed the back of her fingers down the side of Holly's neck. They'd tried meditation. They'd tried medication. They'd tried exercise. None of it had really worked. "Want to do some midnight yoga?"

There was a short moment before Holly started laughing. "Yoga?"

"We haven't tried that yet," said Gail with a smile. "It can't hurt, can it?"

Holly laughed again and reached up to tug at Gail's nightgown. "Stop, just lie down."

Smiling, Gail put her head down on Holly's chest. "We could play video games."

"Gail," groaned Holly, but her voice was still amused. "Sleep."

Reaching up, Gail's fingers found Holly's face and she caressed her wife's cheek and chin. "Sleeping is considerably less fun alone," she noted.

"Yes, but I'm right here."

"Wrong resonance." Her wife laughed softly, so Gail went on. "You don't breathe right and your heartbeat is different."

Holly laughed again. "Oh really?" She shifted slightly and Gail smiled.

There was, of course, another option to zero out Holly's brain and knock her out. It didn't always work. Sometimes it ended with Holly in a paint-the-house mood. Still. It was worth a try. Gail ran her hand down the side of Holly's neck again, fingers trailing a soft touch. "Yeah," she said softly. "Really."

As she caressed Holly's neckline, her wife let go of her shirt. Excellent. Gail propped herself up and kissed the skin above Holly's shirt collar. "You are very persuasive," Holly sighed.

"Persistent." Gail smiled.

Holly laughed softly and nudged Gail up, taking her shirt off. "Better than yoga," she teased.

"You know, it's funny how much you hate yoga and love sports," replied Gail, moving to sit on Holly's hips, straddling her.

"It's not a sport." Holly's grumbling died off as Gail slowly eased her nightgown off. "Which, technically, this isn't either. I mean, I'm certainly not competing with you for who wins. A mutual, mutual win, maybe, but, um," Holly paused and bit her lower lip as her eyes roamed over Gail's naked form. "I'm definitely winning at something in life to deserve this."

There were actually many ways to stop a Stewart in full babble mode. Lily could do it to Brian by raising an eyebrow, a trick that didn't exactly work on Holly though it did on Vivian. According to Olivia, the kissing thing worked though, which was highly amusing. Gail stored that tidbit away to arm any future girlfriend Vivian brought home.

But, in theory, nudity would work on all of them. Gail had mentioned that to Lily one night when they were comparing notes on how similar Holly was to her father. Her mother-in-law had laughed and confessed that she'd done that to Brian on no few occasions. Not that Gail particularly wanted to think about her father-in-law or her daughter looking at naked people right then.

She smiled down at Holly. No, she wanted to look at one naked person, and one alone. "The objective here is to get the mind to calm down." Gail stretched her arms up over her head.

Holly's eyes widened a little, darkening as her pupils took over. "Uh, racing thoughts are ... Thoughts are gonna race when you're naked there. You're really, really, beautiful, Gail." Holly reached out with her hands, rubbing her palms on Gail's bare thighs. Her eyes bounced from Gail's face to the breasts and down to her own hands on Gail's thighs.

Teasing, Gail asked, "How can you even see anything without your glasses?" She reached down and covered Holly's hands with her own, bringing them up to her chest.

Her wife sucked in a breath. "Don't need to, um, don't need to see that to know... God." Holly caught her lower lip between her teeth again. "What was I saying?"

There really was something flattering about her reactions. To know how much Holly wanted her in that moment. To know that, after over twenty years together, Holly was still attracted to her in all the ways she'd been in the first place. They'd had a connection. From that first moment they'd met, there was something then undefinable.

She knew now. She knew that Holly was the answer to so many questions in Gail's life. The solution to the questions everyone else seemed to know. Who she was. What she was. How she was. So much was found there in the brown eyes and the smile to the side and the laughter.

Gail leaned forward, her hands on either side of Holly's head, and kissed her. "I know," she smiled.

And it did work.

Wrangling Holly back into her shirt afterwards, Gail smiled and watched her wife curl up sleepily. "Thank you," mumbled Holly, her hand limply resting on Gail's arm.

"Any time," Gail grinned and rolled over, scooting into the little spoon spot, dragging Holly's arm over her waist.

Within moments, Holly was snoring softly. Gail felt the tendrils of sleep reaching for her and smiled. She wondered if their doctor would congratulate her for finding a new and entertaining way to calm Holly's thoughts, or would she be told off for using sex as an avoidance tactic. Hard to say.

"I still think you should try yoga, though," she told the sleeping Holly. And then Gail yawned and closed her eyes, letting herself fall asleep in her wife's arms, listening to her snore. Feeling her steady, calm, heartbeat.

Resonance. It really was a thing.

* * *

Hands on her knees, Vivian hunched over and sucked in air trying to catch her breath. "I hate basketball," she wheezed.

"You okay?" Christian sounded worried, which Vivian didn't think was fair, considering how she was struggling to inhale after his elbow connected sharply with her rib cage.

She flipped him off and straightened. "Fuck, that hurt."

Christian winced. "Sorry."

"You're an asshole," Vivian told him, lifting her shirt to see if it looked like it felt. It was still red.

Leaning in, Christian pointed out, "For someone who rock climbs and jumps around like you do, you're a bit of a wimp."

She backhanded him in his chest. "Ass. Rocks don't decide to leap out and slam you in your ribs." Vivian took a deep breath. Okay. "What's the score?"

"Eight to three, me." They were playing to ten.

Vivian nodded and took the ball, bouncing it a couple times and wincing with every movement. "Foul. My ball."

Of course Christian, who was far better at basketball, won. He always won. The closest Vivian had gotten in basketball was two points behind. She'd kicked his ass at the batting cages, and was better at soccer and anything rock climbing related. They were still arguing about the elbows (plural) to the ribs as they went to Parade, though.

"I'm just saying, it was totally fair."

"Seriously, C? If that's how they teach you sportsmanship in school, then boys' athletics needs a revamp."

"Well that's true," snorted Lara. "You're lucky you're not as pale as your mom."

That was also true. Gail purpled like mad. "No kidding." She sat down with a wince. That hurt. And he'd nailed her there twice.

"Okay, folks," said Dov as he walked in. "This is the last week of school before vacation. There's ice on the road, so I want everyone to do road checks. Help unstick cars. Get involved with the community. You know the drill. Peck, saw that. You're on front desk. Everyone else, assignments are on the board. Protect, serve, keep warm." He rapped the podium and walked back out.

"Well that was brief," laughed Lara. "Have fun in desk, Peck."

"I will have fun keeping nice and warm while you freeze your nipples off."

Lara looked horrified as she read the board. "I'm with Moore?"

"Could be worse. Could be Rich." Vivian patted her shoulder and went to the front desk, settling in. She didn't mind being on desk duty. It was dull, but it was a change from being out in the cold. That had been her last two weeks. Long patrols in the snow. Welfare checks. Traffic stops.

A dull day, on a day when her ribs wanted her to fuck off, was welcome. She knew she'd be fine in a couple days, max, but still. The only downside was that she knew her family would find out shortly. The text from Holly was the one she expected.

_What_ _'_ _d you hurt? And when?_

Yep. Because she hadn't been hurt when she left the house.

_C elbowed me playing basketball because he_ _'_ _s a big fat cheater._

Her mother replied with a laughing emoji. Nothing to worry about, nothing to be worried about.

As the wind picked up outside, Vivian decided she was very happy to be stuck inside for a couple days. She also figured out that she was dead wrong by the end of the first day. When no one came in, because of the weather, she spent her hours attempting to coordinate with dispatch for welfare checks, or sitting and watching nothing.

It was mid-nothing on day two that Jenny came in and put down a coffee. "Okay, how the hell do you do this gig and not want to murder people?"

"I'll let you know when I'm not arrested," sighed Vivian. "Is that for me?"

"It is. And it's an apology. I have to take over for you."

Vivian arched her eyebrows and looked Jenny up and down. "Nice boot." The other officer was wearing a removable cast. Vivian quickly got up and ceded her seat.

"Don't try ice skating," muttered Jenny.

"I used to play hockey," Vivian grinned.

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Jesus, you are such a stereotype! Sports, short hair, motorcycle."

The quip came naturally. "Fleece and backpacks too!"

"All you need is a girlfriend, Peck," joked Jenny.

"You just had to go there." Vivian shook her head. The disastrous date with Gwen had included Aunt Lisa telling Kate off about picking bitches for her favorite niece. She adored her auntie Bitch Tits a lot, for many reasons, but Lisa's unflagging support of her life choices was a big reason. It was like she was still trying to make up for the fight Gail and Holly once had. "Who'm I with?"

"Christian." Jenny sighed. "I can't believe they asked me to come back to work with my foot like this."

Vivian shrugged. "We're short staffed. Still." Jenny grumbled acknowledgment and Vivian went back to the locker room to get out her vest. She took a moment to look at the inside. She hadn't yet asked her moms to write on it, but Vivian had written messages to them. The day after she was cut loose, Nick had told her to. It was her vest, not a shared one, and she had to make sure it was hers.

Vivian had chosen not to tell him that Gail's vest still had her message on it, though she noticed Andy had not written something on his. Different ways about things, apparently. Her message was simple: _Everything good I learned from Moms._

Neither of her moms had seen that yet. It probably wasn't what Nick had meant, since his just had a love letter to Andy, but it felt right to Vivian. Isn't that what mattered? As she headed back out, Dov was waiting for her. "I'm really sorry to send you out," he sighed.

"Nah, I'll be fine as long as I don't try a lay up."

Dov smiled. "I meant because it's cold."

Making a face, Vivian tugged on her winter hat. "It is cold. But better than how hot summer got. I didn't think I'd ever get the smell of sweat out of my uniform."

"Gail had a weird trick for that."

"Oh god, no. Please. Holly got all scientific on her about it," groaned Vivian.

Pausing, Dov looked thoughtful. Vivian swore she could see the wheels turning in his head. "Ouch," he finally said. "Well. Be safe."

"Excellent advice, sir," she smirked, and went to the garage.

Christian was seated on the hood of 1509. Not Vivian's favorite car, but not the worst. She, like Gail, was convinced that 1504 was cursed. "Hey, Viv. You sure you're okay?"

"Better than Jenny's ankle. How bad is it?"

"Well. She rolled it on our first stop," he smirked. "I'm driving."

Waving a hand to 'whatever' that away, Vivian got in the passenger seat. "Anything interesting?"

Her friend smirked. "We were getting coffee."

Vivian smirked back. "Oh. We are so going to give her shit for that." She and Christian fist bumped. "So how boring is it out there?"

"BAF," sighed Christian. Boring as fuck. "No one wants to do crime. It's too cold."

"Did you ever hear what Oliver said? The boring days are the ones where we know we did our job right."

Christian laughed softly. "Well then we're doing it right."

* * *

It was officially too cold, Holly decided. Either it was getting colder and global warming was a lie, or she was getting older and less able to deal with the weather. She did not plan on voicing this thought to her wife, who no doubt would make a joke about getting old. The point was, after all, that it was cold.

"Welcome back, boss," smiled Ruth, her new receptionist/assistant. "You look freezing."

"I should have driven," Holly lamented. She'd walked down the street to her meeting, thinking that getting outside would do her good.

"I'll make you some fresh tea."

Holly exhaled loudly. "You are totally welcome to keep sucking up like that."

Her old front desk person, Katie, had married and moved to Manitoba to be with family. Ruth had been there for half a year, and Holly was thrilled with how she was working out. And not just because of the tea. Holly hung up her coat and stood in front of the heat vent, letting it warm her up.

In no time at all, Ruth came back with fresh tea. "Here you go. Nothing happened while you were out, except an Amber Alert. Rodney pushed it to the front of the queue."

Nodding, Holly sat on her couch. "Good. Do they think it's an abduction?"

"Seven year old went missing from school." Ruth shrugged and pulled up the information on a tablet.

The evidence for them to process was scant. At recess, the kids went outside to have a snowball fight. When it was over, the teachers noticed little Gabe Rodriguez was missing. Rodney had sent a crew over to try and find trace, but in the snow, after a bunch of kids had a fight, the odds were slim. The report was from Andy, which was good. She knew about kids and kidnappings more personally that most.

Holly wondered how Christian felt about that. When Vivian's past had come back to haunt her, it had messed her kid up a little. Christian didn't really have the same kind of support that Vivian did. Hell, he barely had a parent. His father had gone to jail a second time for domestic assault when Christian was eight, and Gail, Dov, and Oliver had made sure he was never going to see the boy again.

That was something heavy to carry. Holly couldn't imagine the weight kids like Christian and Vivian had to bear. Once Gail had mentioned that Chris had been forced to grow up too soon. It was months and months after his death. They'd been sitting outside watching Vivian playing on her new jungle gym. In retrospect, Holly should have seen the fascination with things like parkour.

Sitting side by side, Gail told her about how Chris had wanted to rescue a puppy, and that was the day she learned about his mother. Tina Diaz was crazy, with a bunch of rules. She was always punishing Chris. Once, when he was ten, he spilled a box of spaghetti, and Tina apparently made him stand on a chair for three hours. Her husband, Chris' stepfather, Ryan Miller, had called social services and been kicked out.

Ryan and Tina had both come to Chris's funeral.

It had all left so much pain in Chris, which even Gail had noticed. Her demented upbringing aside, Gail knew that there was some love. The fact that her mother had come back for her, that Elaine had fought for her in the end, gave Gail a sense of comfort and relief.

Chris had died without really feeling that.

Christian was living without it either. The man he thought of as his father was dead before he'd done more than made a good impression on the boy. Though at least Christian had friends like Vivian. And he had people like herself who were there when he needed them.

Pulling herself out of the cloud of memory, Holly read over the case notes. Gabe Rodriguez was the youngest of four, three sisters and him, and their father was divorced. According to the notes, none of them had seen the mother in years. There was already a BOLO out on the mother, just in case.

There was no reason Holly could reason for the mother to kidnap her own son, but then again, you couldn't apply reason to parents. Parents did the most unreasonable things out of love. The older she got, the longer she was a parent, the more what Elaine did made sense. The older she got, the more the things she'd thought of as crazy and selfish were actually selfless. Still crazy, though. Like how Gail barely slept when Vivian had gone out to Montréal for a long weekend, or how the cop had panicked every time there was a potential sleepover or camp out.

Holly trusted their kid to test her limits and ask for help when she needed it. Gail did too, but she also expected the bullheadedness of a child and young adult out of her. Because they'd raised a child who came to them as a miniature adult into a thinking person. A good person. A person who could be reckless and a bit of a thrill seeker.

Maybe Vivian liked doing the athletic dangerous things because of her self-imposed limitation. That had been Holly's theory for years, that it was the safest outlet Vivian could find. And now her kid was a cop, out there protecting other kids from being her. Because that was the kind of person she was. That was the person they'd raised her to be.

"Ruth, if they call in needing a pathologist, I'll take it."

Children were hard on everyone. It didn't seem fair to fob it off on other people. It had taken Holly years to be comfortable doing the autopsy of a child. After they adopted Vivian, it had started to get easier for much the same reason as why she did this job in the first place. Holly could make the lives of the parents easier, give them closure and peace. And that was what she, as a mother, would want.

* * *

At least she knew the area from her somewhat covert scouting. Vivian sighed and carefully walked out on the snowbank.

"If you fall, Viv, I'm gonna tease you forever."

Vivian looked back at Christian. "I won't fall," she told him. "Someone's been here."

"You can't know that, Peck." Christian was sounding dismissive. He always called her Peck when he was annoyed by her. "You're not Bear Grylls." She paused at the top of the snowbank and looked around. "You know, this is miles from his school."

She glanced back. "Wait in the car, if you want," she bit off at him. Vivian rubbed her hands together and took a deep breath. She could feel the slight twinge from where C had elbowed her. Holly had given it a good look and informed her she'd just had a winner of a bruise.

Down the hill below her, Christian grumbled.

Vivian stared at the snow. She had a working theory. It really wasn't much of a theory. In fact, it was a really simple theory. Christian had been kidnapped as a toddler by his biological father, whom he'd known as his soccer coach. Kids went off with people they trusted. Kids weren't stupid. They were just naive. So who would be able to convince a kid to go with them someplace? To ditch school.

They'd ruled out the father, they were hunting down the mother, the school was being cleared. So what was left? She'd floated the idea off Dov when they'd headed out for patrol that morning. Why not check the things the kid did outside of school.

Of course, the baseball field was under an absurd amount of snow for this time of year. "Stupid global warming," she grumbled.

"Shouldn't it be, I dunno, _warmer_?" Christian went on. "Besides, we stopped that years ago. Woo, science, right?"

Vivian sighed. "Actually global warming caused higher than predicted evaporation, increasing at a rate that's a little more logarithmic than exponential. But ... after all the years of unchecked behavior, the increased evaporation caused the drought in California and Texas, which were resolved by catastrophic downpours and El Niño type weather patterns." She paused and looked down at her confused partner.

"What the hell?"

She shook her head and dumbed it down. "More evaporation puts more water in the air which makes more rain and more snow."

Christian snorted. "You are such a nerd."

"You've met my mom," smiled Vivian, climbing down her snowbank.

"And yet you're not in science."

"Too depressing." She shook snow off her pant leg. The real answer was more complex and fraught with drama. Even though she knew Christian would understand, especially since it was similar to his own.

As she walked back to their cruiser, Christian asked, "Why aren't you in science?"

"I told you, it's depressing. Dead people all day." She shook her head,

"There's other science. You used to be into _Mythbusters_ kinda stuff."

Admittedly she'd known Christian for fifteen years or so, but it was easy to forget people knew that about her. "That was Leo's fault," she said and smiled. "He loved programming that crap for me."

Her cousin Leo was into playing with computers. It was his job now, of course, but he loved it deeply. When she'd been a pre-teen, he'd helped her build a balloon that was launched into the edge of space. Any time she needed computer help, he'd been there. And now he was getting ready to move to Texas in the summer and start a new business doing something she didn't understand at all.

"I remember when you told me about the time Sue took you to the bomb range," he remarked, getting into the car.

"Oh that. Yeah, blowing things up is still cool," Vivian laughed. She blew on her hands. "C... Can I ask a question?"

"Sure." He started the car and cranked up the heat.

Absently, Vivian turned it back down, remembering the words of the service guys, not to run it too hard. "Why did you go with Gene?"

Her partner froze, reaching to turn the heat back up. "What?"

"Gene. Mackenzie. The, uh, the man-"

"I know who he is," said Christian acidly, putting the car into gear. "Why the hell are you asking about him?"

Vivian leaned back, weighing her options. Would it be worse to say it outright or not? "Because I only know a couple people who were kidnapped. And Traci and Gail aren't the same."

The other officer stared down the road. "Why would you say his name?" Christian's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"C..." She swallowed. "Why does a kid go with a grownup? They go with people they trust."

He glanced at her. "And what, you think I remember what it was like to be two and kidnapped? I have some deep insight into why kids run off with strange adults?"

Damn it, he always took things to the worst end. "No," she grimaced. "I'm ... I'm telling you my thoughts. If the mom didn't take him, and the teachers didn't, maybe a coach. A trusted adult. And I can guess all I want, but you're the one who would actually know."

The other cop fumed silently as he drove. "You suck with people, V."

"Don't call me that," she frowned.

"You can't just say _that_ and expect me to think in my right mind." He waved a hand by the side of his head. "God. You're an idiot."

"Sorry." She leaned back against the seat and looked out the window as they drove slowly.

Finally Christian spoke, "You're buying lunch."

She smiled but didn't turn to look. "Fine. But not burgers."

They ended up at a burger joint anyway, for lack of anything else in the area that was open. While Christian ordered, holding the tomatoes for Vivian, she walked around from store to store flashing the photo of the missing kid. Her last stop was a drug store.

"Officer! You look like you've had a day." The man grinned broadly.

It was always easier to be friendly to people in uniform. The fears Vivian had of them knowing her went away, because they just wanted to see there was a person behind the badge. Nothing more. "Been a weird week. Actually... Are you the pharmacist?"

"And owner. I'm one of the last mom and pop shops out here," he sighed.

She pulled the photo out. "We're looking for this boy. He went missing from school."

Putting on a pair of reading glasses that looked like Gail's, the man frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know him."

"He might have come in a sports outfit? He plays baseball at the park."

"Wrong season... Oh the Eagles? I sponsor them!" He reached around and tapped the photos on the wall. "My son played. 2020. That was a good year. They came in third in the city. You play?" He looked her up and down. "You look athletic."

Vivian smiled. "Soccer. And hockey. My mom's a hockey fanatic," she shrugged and winced. Damn it.

The owner shook his head. "And hurt. What's that from? This case?"

"Oh, no, I caught an elbow playing one-on-one with my friend. He's a tank."

With an audible tsk, the owner walked around back and collected a bottle and a tube. "These. Rub this on, it'll help now. The pills are just naproxen."

"Those I've got," she admitted and pulled the pill bottle out from her jacket. Holly had pressed the bottle on her the minute she got home. Fishing out her wallet, she paid for the rub, though. Holly had a lot for muscle aches, her normal ailment from sports. Gail rarely got banged up anymore, and when she did it was all ice and heating pads anyway. The Salonpas hadn't helped much at all, though maybe this would.

"Good. Rub that in, it'll help." He hesitated. "Can I see the photo again?"

"Sure." Vivian handed it over and watch him match it up to the wall. He was comparing the school photo to the ones from the team. The Eagles. Huh. Vivian took her phone out and made a note to check if the coach was cleared. But something else stuck in her head, nibbling the edges of a memory.

"No, I'm sorry, I wish I knew this year's team better," sighed the owner at length, handing the photo back.

"It's alright, sir. I really appreciate you looking. If you remember anything, would you please call?" She handed over the black and white photo with the number printed up.

Nodding, he stuck the photo to the register. "Of course. I just think, if it was my boy, I'd be a lunatic."

The father really had been, mused Vivian. "My parents would too," she agreed. Holly would probably be sitting on Gail, making her wait, while Gail ranted that she _wasn_ _'_ _t_ just any other parent. It was probably for the best that Vivian had waited until adulthood to start stressing her moms out. Vivian looked around the store as she got ready to leave. "It's a cool building."

"Thank you. My great-grandfather worked here too." The man smiled. "Of course, it was a church then."

Church. Eagles. Vivian fought to keep her voice calm and even. "Oh? It doesn't look like one."

"It was a secret Catholic Church. Started in the 1700s around the Quebec Act," he shrugged. "It's a historical landmark now."

Spider sense tingling! Vivian widened her eyes. "Really? I didn't know there were any still left in Toronto!" She tried to smile like Chloe always told her made people smile back.

It worked. The owner grinned. "You're interested? Oh, wait, I know!" Reaching under the till, he pulled out a pamphlet. "Here. The history. I wrote it up when I was converting it. I had to, since I was changing it from a church, you see. We needed to prove it would keep its landmark status." The owner babbled on a little and Vivian skimmed the pamphlet.

This building was built by Richard Reynolds in the late 1800s, after the original was burnt down multiple times during the Orange Order's rise to influence. The church's founders had run away from persecution in Quebec but hadn't found Toronto to be the bastion of safety they'd hoped for. The last priest, Nathan Zanaro, had closed up following a gang shooting during Sunday Mass, back when Gail had been a rookie with a tie.

Zanaro.

Holy fuck.

"This," said Vivian slowly, "This is amazing. Can I keep this?"

"Sure," beamed the owner. "There's a website too."

She flipped the pamphlet over and grinned at the URL there. "Awesome. You've made my day, sir."

* * *

Daughter or not, Gail did not step in when the detective running the kidnapping laid into Vivian until it got personal. "You're not working a gang case! I don't care who your mommy is, but you're looking for a lost kid! Wasting time like this is why kids end up dead."

Gail sighed. She could see the rare anger coloring Vivian's neck. "Chloe," she muttered to the woman beside her.

"Yeah, I'm on it," nodded the head of UC ops. "Hey, Archer? She's got it. Give it a rest." Chloe smiled her sweet, innocent, grin and put a hand on Vivian's shoulder.

The man scowled. "She thinks she can get away with it because of that name." He stabbed a finger at Vivian, not touching her, but still emphasizing the name tag.

Vivian's posture changed. That had happened a few times in Gail's experience, but Vivian did have her triggers. Men still tended to bother her and when they got in her face like that, it upped Vivian's ire. Badly.

And Gail had to stand back and do nothing. Because this was Viv's life, and her career and her future. She had to figure out how she was going to work with people like Archer.

"I didn't," snapped Vivian. "Sir." Well at least she remembered that. "I was asking around and I _found_ one of the baseball sponsors."

"And got distracted by a case that isn't any of your damn business! Find the kid! That's your job, rookie!" Archer stabbed with his finger again, this time thudding it on Vivian's vest. "You're not a detective, and you won't be one if you keep this shit up. Do you understand?" When Vivian nodded, he added, "Just because you're a damn Peck, don't think you can get away with things. Okay? You're nothing but a rookie."

Gail expected her kid to lash out. Instead, Vivian did what Gail still tended to do. She sucked it back in. Even from this far away, Gail could see the anger making her daughter practically vibrate. She just swallowed everything and bit out, "Yes, sir."

It was Chloe who snapped. "Hey! Archer!" Grabbing the detective's hand, Chloe pulled it away. "Take a walk." He opened his mouth and Chloe lowered her voice. "That's an order."

There was a moment of tension and Archer turned and stalked off. Vivian was still shaking with suppressed... Well. Anger probably. "Thank you, ma'am," Viv muttered, barely audible from the gallery.

"He has a point," Chloe said more gently. "Go wash your face, get back out there and find the kid. That's what we need you to do, Peck." Somehow the way Chloe said the name made it sound like less of an insult.

Nodding, Vivian walked off towards the locker room. Gail sighed and leaned on the railing. "Thanks, Chloe," she said as soon as the detective rejoined her.

"Does he hate Pecks or something?"

"Not last I heard." Gail shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything, though. You know that."

Chloe scowled. The tiny thing had heard people swear Gail only had rank because she was a Peck. It had been one of the few times Gail had seen Chloe rip into someone at the Penny. "Archer's an ass. Why is he in charge of this case?"

"Missing Persons isn't usually my purview unless it's something big," shrugged Gail. "Besides, he's bucking for a promotion. If this ends badly, it's his last real shot."

"Not a good reason for him to act like an ass to an over eager rook."

Gail smiled. "God, that kid," she laughed under her breath. "Her brain is a strange place."

The tiny detective laughed back. "Puh-lease. Pot? Kettle." Then she asked, "What did she find?"

"A lead on the Rivers stuff. She found a drug store that was a church, and they sponsor a little league team called the Eagles."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Holy crow."

"I know, right? If she'd actually been assigned to work on it, she'd be golden." Gail shook her head. Her staffers were running the information now. "Do you have anyone over in the Don River area? Upper?"

The red-haired woman looked thoughtful. "A couple CIs. What do you need?"

"I need someone to see how deep it goes. And I have a new player. The Reynolds family."

Nodding, Chloe straightened up. "I'll see what I can get you."

Gail nodded back. She wanted to ask if Dov was going to take the promotion to Inspector and move to the big building, but it was hard to voice that. Things were starting to change and move on. They weren't kids anymore, after all, and having children they'd know as toddlers be the rookies was ... Well it was horrifying.

Guilt and fear. Every single day Gail worried she'd not prepared Vivian enough for the job. She worried she hadn't given her daughter the tools to deal with these things. There was built in pain still in that child. Darkness. Things Gail was used to shouldering on her own.

Cases with kids always made Gail doubt her parenting skills more. There were some cases, back when Vivian had been small, that Gail wanted nothing more than to spend her night on the couch with Holly on one side and Vivian on the other, holding her family close. Then there were the days like today that gave Gail a knife-in-the-gut stab of agony. She knew, she felt in her bones, that this case was not going to end well.

"This is why I don't work in children's crimes," Gail muttered as she got back to her office.

"Hear here," replied John, standing at her computer whiteboard.

"Why are you in my office?"

He shook a pamphlet. "Your child seems to have inherited your mother's luck. Did you see this?"

"No, I was busy watching her get reamed out by Archer. I got the overview. Church. Eagles."

"You should read this."

Gail took the pamphlet and started to read. "Are you fucking joking?"

John looked over his shoulder. "I know, right?" He grinned. "It's like someone filled in Mad Libs for us."

Smiling, Gail sat at her desk and fired up her computer. "I bet half the rookies from the last four years don't know what Mad Libs are, John."

He scowled. "Fuck you, boss." He circled more places on the map. "Lawson and Co. Used to be and Sons, but the current owner is a woman. Jacqueline. Used to be construction. Turned into money stuff after the crash."

"Seems backwards," muttered Gail, putting that in. "You're giving them the third territory?"

"I am." He tapped it. "Because Jackie Reynolds' grandmother was Gloria Zanaro."

Gail threw her hands up and laughed. "How the hell did we miss that?"

"Came at it the wrong way. We were trying to find the lost kids. I started assuming one of the married ins had to be a Z and boom." He grinned ear to ear. "Why was Archer yelling at her? Kid has a knack for finding shit."

Looking up from the computer, Gail sighed. "She's supposed to be finding that missing kid, John."

Her sergeant nodded, cringing a little. "Bad feel," he agreed. "This is not a happy ending."

That was part of why Gail liked him so. He wasn't afraid to speak from his gut. "Yeah," she agreed.

It was a really bad feel.

* * *

Unlike her peers, Vivian was familiar with death in a different way. She'd seen it, smelled it, felt it in her bones. She'd cried over graves, glared over others, and held her mother's hand when Holly had to identify the body of her aunt who died suddenly up in Barrie. She'd been to funerals and unveilings and she knew the weird pressure a dead body put on the soul.

She'd never felt it over a child before and she hoped it would be a very long time before she did again.

"Is he…" Lara hadn't come any closer from the trail.

"Yeah." Vivian pulled her glove off and touched her radio. "Dispatch, 4727, we found Gabe Rodriguez. 10-45."

Her radio crackled. "4247, confirm 10-45."

"Dispatch, confirmed." She relayed their location and sat back on her heels. "I'm sorry, kid," she said to the body.

The crunch of a footstep in snow alerted her to Lara finally braving the situation. "Is it easier? Saying 10-45?"

Vivian looked up. "Easier than saying he's dead? I don't know." She slowly stood up, wincing as her rib protested. Three days and it still hurt. The muscle rub was helping. "The odds are against finding anyone at all, the longer it takes."

Shuddering, Lara hunched in her jacket as if that was why she felt cold. "I'm _not_ going into juvenile crimes."

"Skip Missing Persons too," suggested Vivian. The cold was weirdly helping her calm down. Her entire body felt too hot, just seeing the dead boy. She'd been upset since being (rightly) called out for getting distracted by the case she wasn't even working on.

At home last night, Gail had said she understood both sides, but Vivian was not and would not be assigned to the case. It wasn't fair to ask her mom to mediate the issue, and Vivian knew it. The problem was one of her own creation, and Gail was simply letting her work it out. Which was beyond fair. If she'd asked, Gail and Holly would both offer advice and help.

The fix was really simple. Do her job, don't get distracted. It wasn't Vivian's fault she'd walked into that, though. She'd been trying to do the right thing, flash the photo around. Okay maybe she'd suggested they try the little league area because it was the Don River and she had a bug up her ass about it.

Stupid Archer. She didn't want to be a detective either. That was kind of why she hadn't stuck with the science stuff Holly loved. Solving puzzles like that with people was just not interesting. She liked patrol. It was fun and different and she got to see things in a new way. She got to be there to help people on their worst days and try to make them better.

Except today. Today she was going to be the person who had to deliver the worst news.

Lara cleared her throat. "Do we have to tell the parents?"

"Not first. Det. Archer will do that. But they may want to talk to us."

Hunching more into her jacket, Lara shook her head. "I'm never having kids."

"There are worse things." Vivian shoved her hands in her pockets to warm them up. Like leaving the kids abandoned. At least now, as an adult, she understood why people died. The memory and understanding of why her parents were dead had taken years to come to terms with.

Actually she was pretty sure she hadn't yet. Not totally.

What she did understand was that being left behind was hard. There was an emptiness to things, a hollowness that never really filled. Not even with Holly and Gail did it heal itself, not for her. She loved her moms and they loved her, but she would probably always feel a hole in her heart from before, just like Gail still felt one from her own father. But, as Gail had told her once, when the scars stuck around, it was best to put them to good use.

Vivian was still contemplating that when their backup showed up. She told Duncan how they'd found the body and then repeated the story for Archer. They'd followed the leads from where someone had reported seeing the boy while an adult bought clothes. They'd checked various yards of abandoned houses in the area. They'd knocked on the doors of occupied houses.

Finally they found him when a ten year old boy asked if his friend wanted to see a dead body, and his friend flagged down their car. The boys were with Andy and their parents, quiet and a little scared. Vivian couldn't blame them at all. The parents were a little more shell shocked than the kids. It wasn't real yet for them.

It became real when Holly showed up. "Dude, your mom..." Lara elbowed her.

Her mother, Dr. Holly Stewart, was bundled in a warm, puffy, jacket. It was the one Gail had bought for her last year when Holly had complained she was too old to be cold. The hat was one of Gail's old patrol watch caps. Sorrel snow boots, tied up snug, crunched the snow as Holly walked to the crime scene tape. After conferring with the techs, Holly turned to the two rookies. "Which one of you examined the body?"

Raising her hand, Vivian walked closer and Lara followed. "Checked his pulse on his neck, ma'am."

Once Lara had asked if it was weird calling her mothers 'ma'am' all the time. The truth was that it was not. Her moms, in uniform and at work, were her superiors. There was no question they got the titles they deserved. In fact, it was a relief to call them that.

"Don't worry, you didn't pull a Gerald," offered Holly, the smile faint and distant. "Rigor set in a while ago. Did you see any other footprints?"

They both shook their heads. "We checked all the way back to the tree line," explained Lara.

"Last snow was... This morning," mused Holly, looking at the child. "He's not covered." With a sigh, Holly turned back to the rookies. "Did you give your statements?" They nodded silently. "Good. Meet us back at the lab."

It wasn't until they were at their cruiser that Lara dared ask. "Is she going to make us watch the autopsy?"

Make was the wrong word. It wasn't punishment. It was a lesson. It was a hurdle they had to pass. "She's going to do the autopsy." Vivian sat down and buckled in. "You know why."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

"No one likes it." But this was something they had to get used to.

Lara sighed as Vivian pulled out and started down the road. "Do you think it ever gets easier?"

"Not kids, no." This was the kind of case where Holly would be quiet when she got home. When Vivian had been younger, and not quite understood what was going on, Holly would come home and sit and watch Vivian. The worse days she'd look like she wanted to hug Vivian every ten minutes, and usually would be holding herself back from that because Holly knew Vivian wasn't a hugger. The worst of all, though, were the days that Holly could barely stand to look at her.

As she'd gotten older, Vivian came to see those days for what they were. The bad ones were when a child died. The worse were abuse or neglect, like what she had survived, and as a teen Vivian would hug Holly close on those days. The worst though... That thank god had never happened to her, not at her birth parents hands nor in foster homes, but it wasn't uncommon enough.

Lara broke into her thoughts. "Who's Gerald?"

Holding back a laugh, Vivian shook her head. "Someone who thought a guy was dead when he wasn't." It was a kindness to protect Duncan's identity. He'd grown up a lot, after all. It also wasn't funny at all that day. Today was not a day for laughter, even if the morbidity of it all did make her find the absurdity in life.

As Gail often liked to point out, she came that way. The dark humor and the inappropriate laughter was something Vivian had always had. For the first time, though, this autopsy knocked it out of her. Now she _really_ understood why her parents had those days they were just wiped clean of emotion. They had to shut down so much of themselves just to deal with the horror of what they'd seen.

She beat her parents home that night and went to her bedroom, propping her feet on the headboard. It was a retreat. But she needed the quiet and the peace just then. She needed a break to deal with what seemed to be the accidental death of a kidnapped child.

Allergic reaction. Death. Severe anaphylaxis. What a hell of a way to go. They were still waiting on the labs to find out exactly what had killed the boy, but Holly showed them what the signs were for the allergy. There were lesions and discolorations in the boy's throat, indicating it had been ingested. Probably the kidnapper gave him something mundane, like a pb&j sandwich.

The floorboard outside her room creaked. Gail never managed to avoid that one. "Hey, kid," said Gail. "Your mom's on her way home."

"She okay?"

"Eh. She asked how you were."

Vivian leaned her head back to look at Gail. "I love you, Mom."

Blinking, Gail walked in and sat on the bed. "Okay?"

"You and Mom. I just feel really lucky."

Gail made an aha noise and leaned on Vivian's legs. "I feel that way too," she admitted.

Vivian sighed. "It won't get easier, will it?"

"It will," mused Gail. "Weirdly, it got easier when we had you. Holly says it's because we found out what we could lose and it makes it more ... Understanding. We get how important it is, and we'd want that with you."

"I'm not having kids any time soon," muttered Vivian.

"Not with the kinda dates you're going on, kiddo," Gail agreed. She patted Vivian's leg. "You need some time to process or you want to come downstairs and fine something to shut up the voices in your head with?"

"You mean cooking or video games, huh?"

"Shooting range? If you really want to play softball, I can do that."

For a moment, Vivian thought about taking her up on it. And then she thought about her other mother. "Cooking. Mom will want to stay home." Vivian got up and pushed her hair back. "Think Mom would cut my hair?"

"No," smile Gail. "That was a one time thing."

"Probably best. You had the stupidest bangs."

Gail looked affronted but laughed as she followed Vivian out into the hallway.

* * *

"I just feel bad going out to a concert in the middle of a case," sighed Holly, threading an earring through her ear.

"It's _always_ the middle of a case." Gail was looking at her face in the mirror over her sink, fixing her eye makeup. "It's not my case. And it's not yours anymore." Holly frowned and put in her other earring. "Stop frowning, Holly, you'll get a wrinkle." Reaching over, Gail ran her thumb over the crease between Holly's eyebrows.

She leaned into Gail and let her wife put a necklace around her. "I wish I'd found something useful."

"Besides cause of death?" Gail kissed her neck. "You helped more than anyone else." Hands wrapped around her waist. "I need to relax. I'd like to listen to beautiful music with my beautiful wife in a beautiful place."

It sounded nice. And a night listening to music with Gail usually relaxed her too. "You're right." She covered Gail's hands with her own. "You're right," repeated Holly. She patted the hands and Gail let go. "You are right."

"Come on, plus one. We need a date night. The kid is working tonight. Which means ..." Gail trailed off and put in her earrings and fixed her lipstick.

Holly rolled her eyes but put in her contacts and admired Gail as she swung a winter wrap around her shoulders. "Can we skip to that part?"

The groan from the doorway to their bedroom reminded Holly that Vivian had not left for the night shift yet. "You are so annoying, Moms." Her daughter was in jeans and a sweater, holding her jacket.

"You want to borrow my car?" Holly started down the stairs. "I worry about you driving that bike in winter."

"I'm fine, Mom," promised Vivian. "Go have fun with Mom and look at pretty things."

"Listen to pretty things," corrected Gail, ruffling Vivian's hair. "Go make the world safer, Officer Peck." Vivian's face lit up as she went to the kitchen for some coffee.

Holly smiled and pulled on her coat. "You always know what to say to make her smile," she told Gail quietly.

Her wife glanced at their daughter. "It's easy at this point. God help me if she asks us to help her with her dates."

"Easy now, Peck." Holly shook her head and opened the garage door. "Be safe, Viv."

"It's just night patrol, Mom. In winter. Mom, tell her how boring winter is."

Gail just smiled. "Watch your ribs, sweetheart." Hustling into the car, Gail rubbed her arms. "Why didn't we insulate the garage?"

"You could put on a jacket," teased Holly as Gail started her car.

"It's warm in the car. It's warm at the concert. I'm paying for valet parking. When will I be cold?"

"Waiting on the car," she smiled at her wife. "I'm the one with pants. And a coat."

"And you will happily wrap that wool coat around me to cuddle me and keep me warm."

Damn it, Gail was right about that, too.

It did take until halfway through the first part of the concert for the worrying about cases and children on patrol to stop. At that point, the music and company eased the doubts out of Holly's mind. She'd never been one for classical music before Gail, preferring the loud, thumping, pounding rock that got your blood moving and heart racing.

After twenty-one years with Gail, nineteen as her wife, Holly had come to appreciate the wash of calm that came from a concert like this. The artistry of the entire affair, from the work put in to looking beautiful down to the quiet moment when a solo violinist drew out a long, pure, note from a piece of wood and bone and metal, was soul restoring. It reminded her that, among all the pain and loss, there was wonder and perfection in more than the tiny bubble of life created for oneself.

Hope.

Peace.

Wonderment.

All the things Holly had carried with her as a child, the curious nature that drove her to poke at dead bodies, came from those moments and feelings. The music played and the feelings came back, dancing around her, reminding her of who she was and what she was. No fear. No doubt. Just Holly.

She squeezed Gail's knee and leaned in to her shoulder, smiling. Gail smiled back and signed slowly, asking if Holly felt better. Bobbing her hand to sign a yes, Holly snuggled closer and Gail's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

At intermission, Holly sipped a glass of white wine and watched Gail talk to a young girl at her first grownup concert. The child was struggling to understand everything about the music and why the adults were so fascinated. And Gail explained the meaning and the story. The explanation got animated as Gail gestured about the drums and the woodwinds, her hands swooping around.

"Your friend is very excited about the music," said a young woman, not too much older than Vivian.

"My wife," corrected Holly. "She loves this stuff. She can make anyone interested."

The woman blushed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed... My daughter," she gestured at the child was was eagerly asking Gail a question. "Everyone says I should have taken her to Peter and the Wolf. They explain it to them."

Holly shook her head. "Oh that's so boring, though. Kids understand complicated stories. They follow along the basic simplicity, and as they get older they start to see the layers behind it all. The music grows with them."

"You're making me feel like a genius parent," laughed the woman.

"Don't worry, we all feel like we're guessing," Holly said conspiratorially. "Our daughter is almost 24 and we _still_ feel like we have no idea what we're doing."

"Twenty-four? Is she here?"

"No, she's at work. And a little annoyed at her schedule. She loves this stuff too."

"How old was she when you started bringing her?"

"Eight, but we played a lot of it at home beforehand." Gail wanted to bring Vivian earlier, but with everything else that had happened, they waited until she was a little more mature. None of that was a stranger's business.

The lights flickered and the girl pointed at them, asking something of Gail. Gail nodded and gestured over to Holly. They both walked over, the girl excitedly telling her mother about how there was a cool story in the music and did she know? The mother took her hand. "Say thank you, sweetie." And then to prove the point, she smiled at Holly. "Thank you."

The girl bobbled her head. "Thank you! That was cool!"

Gail smirked at Holly. "Kids think I'm cool."

"You're 50 going on 10," teased Holly, kissing Gail's cheek. "Thank you for this."

"The music? Always." Gail threaded her fingers through Holly's and gently tugged her towards their seats.

"The music. The break. The house. The kid. The marriage. The haircut."

That last one made Gail erupt in a brief moment of laughter. "You just gave me a haircut you think is sexy on women."

Holly beamed. "I did. I do. And you do look incredibly divine." The hair was swept into gentle curls that had taken Gail an hour to set properly. Her makeup was subtle and yet striking. The dress hugged every curve. Even now, at 50, Gail's body refused to succumb to her appalling dietary habits. Gail claimed it was the yoga.

"You're one to talk," smiled Gail. "I've never met anyone who makes pants look that inspiring."

Smiling, Holly leaned against Gail's shoulder and looked down at the musicians. She didn't have to reply to Gail's comment. Even in the noise of the audience before the performance, even in the cacophony of the music, and even in those moments of silence in between, Holly knew that she was happy to be there with Gail. And she knew Gail was happy to be there with her.

* * *

It was not their first time on the night shift by far, but it still wasn't something Vivian was fond of. The night shift felt weird. Maybe it was because she'd finally gotten a finger on the pulse of the city in daylight, but it was a different beast at night. The rhythm was off.

"You're lost in thought," remarked Lara, sitting in the passenger seat of their cruiser.

"I don't like the night shift." Vivian frowned and slowed at the light.

Her partner nodded. "It feels different, right? Like... When you were a kid, and things were scarier at night?"

Vivian gripped the wheel and sighed. It was normal for kids to be afraid of the dark? She had been for years, but so had Gail. "Yeah," she muttered.

"I had a nightlight until I was sixteen." Lara shook her head. "I know, it's totally childish, right?"

Glancing over, Vivian smiled a little. "I was ten. I get it." There. That was okay to talk about.

"Whoa!" Lara laughed. "Did Peck just tell me something personal? Alert the news! Hashtag princesspeck!"

Vivian slapped Lara's arm and grinned. "Shut up." She checked the traffic before turning. "You're such a bitch. Why do I tell you anything?"

"Better than thinking about this kid…" Lara slouched in the seat. "I can't sleep. I mean, what kind of cold-hearted son of a bitch does that?"

Tiling her head, Vivian wondered what to say. She hadn't slept any differently than usual. But. She wondered what Gabe's sisters felt right now. Did they miss their baby brother? Did they wonder why him and not them? That was one of the questions she'd never get answered.

And that told her what to say to Lara. "At the end of the day, we can give them some answers. Maybe not all of them, maybe not everything, but ... If they can have some closure, it's the best we can do."

Her partner didn't say anything after that, not for a long time. Lara was quiet and looked out the window. Finally, as they pulled up to an all night coffee shop, she sighed. "Okay. Closure. We can do that. We have a dead kid and no trace."

"Nothing out of the ordinary," corrected Vivian. Holly had been very precise about that. "The problem with the trace is that it was all from places he normally went. His brothers had the same kind of stuff, school and home."

"Which means," Lara looked enlightened. "Whoever took him was someone he knew _and_ someone he was around often!"

Vivian nodded. That's what she'd heard the Ds saying. "Except they checked out all the neighbors, the mom, and even the sports team coaches."

"Yeah, why did they get all up in your face about that one?"

Making a face, Vivian admitted, "It's the other case. The one with the drugs and the gangs? I can't get it out of my head."

Lara seemed to understand. "You think it's related?"

"No, just... You know, streams that cross and all that." She popped her door. "Come on, I need some java juice to keep going." Locking the car, they headed inside. Even the brief jaunt outside was bracing.

The seedy late night/early morning crowd grew even more silent and insular as two cops walked in. Vivian had to admit there was a little thrill of power when you could do that to a room. She knew her mother reveled in it. She knew Dov was a bit addicted to it. Hell, even Andy the idealist McNally enjoyed it. That was some of what went into a cop. You had to be a little messed up to want this gig.

Lara ordered their coffees while Vivian looked around. Even for a mostly hipster coffee shop, the clientele at this hour was the sort of person most people's parents told them to stay away from. Not her parents. Gail had taught her to identify the people based on subtle or not so subtle cues: a biker, a probably homeless guy, a drug dealer... A familiar gang-member-slash-dealer.

"Hey, Jordan," smiled Vivian, sitting down at the table. "Long time no see. Keeping out of trouble?"

Jordan Lewis was her mother's CI. Technically Vivian only knew her because the woman had been picked up for dealing once when she'd been visiting the station. Back then, at thirteen, she'd been attached to Gail's hip and not allowed to wander about. When Jordan had been tossed in lockup and Gail had to go collect her, Vivian got her first look at the cells and the skel her mother relied on.

Looking at Vivian for a long moment, Jordan's eyes landed on the name tag and she laughed. "Damn. Didn't expect that. Probably shoulda."

"Eh, it surprised my Mom too." Vivian grinned.

Jordan frowned. "Yeah, you know you don't _look_ like her."

"Not the first time I've heard that." Vivian shrugged.

That got her a familiar look, but not the one of sympathy and 'you poor thing.' It was the look that someone else who'd been in the system shared with a fellow survivor. "How long?"

"Half a year. Drop in the bucket."

"Yeah, but you have the look." Jordan sighed. "You're like me. You've seen it. Lived it." Vivian shrugged again, not able to deny it. "She plucked you off the street and raised you like her own... Huh. Maybe I should have kept her card."

But that hadn't been Jordan's path. "Well. We're not really in charge of anything, are we?"

Jordan quietly nodded. "No. We're not. We're what they made us. But. You look like you worked out."

"Power trippin' cop? Sure, take back control somehow," she snorted.

"Used to run a gang, same idea."

They shared a look of understanding. In a way, Vivian suspected she would understand Jordan better than Gail did. And in that moment, she wondered what her life might have been like... What if Jordan had called Gail, relied on her like a big sister? And if Gail had adopted Sophie _and_ Vivian? What strange family might that have made?

Instead of voicing any of that, she just glanced around and remarked, "Hell of a late night."

"I'm waiting for someone."

Vivian paused. "Am I blowing it for you?"

"Nah, just a friend. Works third shift."

"Which is a bitch of a shift," grimaced the cop.

The CI smirked. "You piss off folks?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "They don't assign us night work for that."

"Oh, that's a yes."

"Eh, detective on the case is a dick. He's mad I got chased the wrong rabbit."

Jordan nodded. "Yeah, I know that one. Your old lady had that before too. What're you supposed to chase?"

Hesitating a moment, Vivian pulled the worn photo of the dead boy out of her jacket pocket. "Missing kid ended up dead."

The criminal's face changed. "You can't find the ransomer?"

Vivian blinked. The what? Ransom? "Uh. I'm not a D. They don't tell me that shit."

But of course Jordan knew. She caught it. "You didn't know... They would have told you. I mean, you handle those differently. Right?"

"Uh. I assume. I haven't been on one yet. This is my first year."

Jordan looked thoughtful. "You're going to owe me one. Pen." Handing over the pen Holly had given her for graduation. She watched Jordan write down a name. "He's the guy to haul in. Works for a crew I wouldn't touch. Rumor was they were running a ransom scam that went tits up."

Taking the napkin, Vivian read it and frowned. "He died before they could send the ransom note."

"That's all over the under," nodded Jordan.

They shared a look. "This plays out, I do owe you." Jordan smirked and dismissed Vivian with a flick of her eyes.

Lara, bless her soul, had done nothing to interrupt their tête-à-tête. When Vivian walked over and took her coffee, the other officer only arched her eyebrows. It waited until they were back in the car and Vivian handed her the paper. "Who's Nathan Sterling?"

"A dangerous, dangerous man. Look him up, will you?"

The other woman frowned and tapped into the computer. "Suspected accomplice for kidnapping. Ransom... Shit. He lives in the same area the kid did. Do you think he's the guy?"

"Maybe. That woman in there is one of the Department CIs. She's my mom's spy for gangs." Vivian frowned. No. Wait. " _Kid_ gangs. Has Sterling ever been processed?"

"Only like a hundred times. Why?"

"Identifying marks. Look for a cigarette burn on the inside of a wrist." Jordan had a burn scar. It wasn't an accident and it was in a specific location.

"Okay, now you're creeping me out."

Vivian grinned a feral smile, baring her teeth. "He's 38 to 40 years old. Known associates, Curtis Pane." Vivian put the car into gear. "We've got a lead."

Marveling, Lara buckled up. "I can't tell if you're good luck or bad luck, Peck."

Neither could Vivian, but ransom and kidnapping and a lead? That would get her back in the good books for the detectives.

* * *

Generally Gail didn't plan to go into work after a night out with Holly. She was rarely in the right frame of mind to do serious policing following good music. Even less so when she'd been wrapped in the amorous arms of her wife. Holly and mornings. They were worth waking up for. As it turned out, Holly was just as horny when she woke up early as she was if she was still awake at 3am. It had been a very good early morning. Or late night. Take your pick.

But the phone call from her squad around four AM had caught her interest, more so when the name 'Curtis Pane' was dropped. Untangling herself from the sleepy brunette, Gail called Steve and picked him up on the way in to the station.

"Nice hickey."

"Bite me, butt face," she snarled at her brother.

"No need, Holly did it for me." But he handed over a cup of coffee and settled into the car. "Did your kid really find a lead?"

Gail sucked down half in one go. "I know, right? She's got _Mom_ _'_ _s_ luck."

Her brother sighted dramatically. "Someone had to." They'd both had to fight tooth and nail for every opportunity. Of course everyone assumed their lives were handed to them, even now, because Peck. "Is she getting shit about that?"

"Not like we did," mused Gail. "Universe had to start giving her something good back."

"She got you guys."

Gail glanced at Steve and smiled. There was that. The kid had lived through enough ups and downs, but she had come through pretty well. "True." She pulled up at the station.

Inside, a sleepy Chloe had brought in a familiar face from ThirtyFour. "Jesus, Pecks," snarled Frankie Anderson. "Someone owes me a million for tapping my CIs all night."

"The universe can do without the best sex ever for one day, Anderson," grinned Gail, feeling feral.

"Didn't stop you. Nice hickey."

"Try being married. Ball and chain is worth it." But the time for friendly bantering was done. They had a job. "Your guys got eyes on Nathan Sterling?"

"Not for a couple days," yawned Chloe. "But ho boy, we got details."

"Round up in my office," Gail said. "Who's the night sarge right now?" They all looked over at, of all people, Andy McNally. Still not a sergeant technically. Yet. "Right... McNally! My office. Bring coffee."

Andy frowned. "I'm not your minion!"

Turning to the stairs, Gail replied, "Are too!"

They all did reconvene in Gail's office, Andy included. The woman finally wanted her stripes and, unlike Dov who had busted her ass for it, or Traci who had natural luck, Andy was a mixed bag of success and shit. A case like this might give her the kick she needed to get that promotion, and Andy knew it.

"Nathan Sterling. Mid or late forties, depending who you ask. Accomplice for kidnapping kids of rival gang members." Frankie tapped the photo projected on Gail's wall. "Never managed to make anything stick on him, though. Last four years, he's taken over that dirty work. Grabbing kids from the system, turning them into runners. Best we can do is charge him as a kidnapper, but you know those kids."

Gail nodded, propping her feet up on the desk. "They'll die by their gangs. Frankie, who died and why are you here? Sterling's guns and gangs, or vice. What would he kidnap Gabe for? The kid doesn't have anything to do with drugs."

From the couch, Chloe chimed in, "Mom does." Everyone turned to look at her. "You are gonna _love_ this," she said to Steve. "She used to be a runner for Spikes."

Steve stood up from the desk. "Spikes. Are you shitting me?" He stared at Frankie. "Do you have any idea who the hell Spikes is?"

The acerbic detective snorted. "What do I look like, a rookie? Her name lit up the checks."

"Checks?" Gail arched her eyebrows. "Why were you checking on her?"

"I wasn't. I was running prints on the dick of a dead guy." Frankie shook her head. "My life is so damn glamorous. I saw Price had her name all over this shit, so I called her. She's the boss after all."

Chloe beamed. "You love me, Frankie."

Barring her teeth at Chloe, Frankie snarled. Technically Chloe wasn't Frankie's boss but was the undercover supervisor for the same three divisions Gail monitored. When Blackstone had retired, Chloe took over that role. Anything undercover went through her. Gail had never regretted recommending her for the job. But Frankie- sorry, Detective Sgt. Anderson, Homicide, was part of Gail's unofficial cadre of minors who didn't actually work for her but were willing to come at the drop of a hat.

There were quite a lot of people who were willing to follow Gail's lead, actually. It was strange how things worked out. This was the universe her parents had tried to make her create in their own insane way. Gail's version was way better.

"You two stop flirting," Gail warned Price and Anderson, smirking. "Spikes. So Rodriguez's mom was a drug runner. And that's why she left the kids?"

"That's my theory," agreed Chloe. "Hooking and drugs."

Frankie lifted her coffee cup. "Dead guy was a rich John. Heart attack in his car after a sexual encounter. DNA swabs matched."

"Seedy," muttered Steve.

Chloe grinned. "Isn't it? Frankie has her CIs looking out for her right now. I've got mine looking for Sterling, but Steve..."

The man nodded. "I'll get mine out on him too. Send uniforms looking for her, though. Sterling's got to be looking for her for ... Whatever?"

"Theft," drawled Frankie. Everyone winced. "Yeah, I know, brilliance there. Steal from your dealer. Who've you got in Vice, Peck?"

Steve frowned. "No one... Oh. Sorry."

Gail rolled her eyes. Ten years and Steve still had trouble with the fact that the default Peck in their world was her. "Luck's in vice. Swarek. Not that he listens to me, but ..." She looked at Andy cautiously.

"Anton Hill," mused McNally. "He'll do anything if you let him back on this one." At Frankie's questioning look, Andy added, "It's his white whale."

The homicide detective snorted. "I'm impressed Basset Hound Swarek's read that."

"Apparently he reads when he's undercover," shrugged Andy. "Read. Whatever. You better have someone else ask him, though."

"Yeah, Frankie, you take that one. Pull in anyone you trust."

Chloe pursed her lips. "Wes?"

"He's reliable," shrugged Gail. "Okay. Marching orders. I want Anna Sophia Maria Rodriguez and I want Nathan Sterling. Alive. I'll talk to the lab, get exactly what killed him besides 'peanut butter,' and Andy you brief Dov for the morning shift. _Only_ the reliable ones on this, so please keep Gerald out of it."

There was general laughter. Gerald wasn't a _bad_ cop, but he was rarely inventive in the right ways.

* * *

The morning, Vivian's end of shift, had come with a surprise. Gail was parked in the lot. At six. Gail was never at the station early. And sure as hell not on a night she'd been out late (and up late, be honest) with Holly.

But her mother's presence explained the change in orders last night. Instead of a normal patrol, she and Lara had been sent to look specifically for dealers and hookers. Always fun. But they were looking for folks who plied the hard stuff, like crystal meth, because they were looking for a junkie who stole from her dealer.

Anna Sophia Maria Rodriguez.

And if they didn't find her, they were to help look for Nathan Sterling. But the odds were he was in TwentySeven's territory. So it was hookers for the rest of the night. Which was a sentence Vivian never thought she'd say before. At least they hadn't had to go undercover as hookers themselves. Yet. Gail seemed to feel everyone would do it at least once in their careers.

Undercover work struck Vivian as something hard and uncomfortable. She'd not really looked forward to it in the Academy as a child, and not at all after Gail had gone to ground when she was twelve. Half her life ago. Huh. Did Gail feel like it was a long time away or a short time? Probably both. Her mothers still smiled at her like she was the seven year old who hated bathing. When she'd gotten home, Holly was still there but heading out, complaining about a case. Vivian had gotten a kiss to the forehead and a reminder to shower. Eight hours of sleep and her mothers were still not home when she came back to the station.

"Earth to Peck. You in there?"

Vivian yawned. "I don't like night shifts." She'd been lying on the bench in front of her locker for a while, trying to convince her brain it was a normal hour to be up and about.

With a grunt, Lara sat in the empty space above Vivian's head. "No shit. My mom is the worst roommate. How are yours?"

"Not so bad. I mean, Gail's a cop, so she knows how annoying it is to not get any sleep."

"And Holly's a doctor, so she had ER crap, huh?"

To be honest, Vivian had never thought about that. "Probably. Way before my time." Vivian got up and tucked her uniform shirt in.

Lara looked thoughtful as she changed into her uniform. "Is that weird? My folks are only like 25 years old than I am. Yours are…"

"Gail's 50. Watch it," smiled Vivian. Gail was 25ish years older, but yes, Holly was over 30 years older. "I don't know. They've always been grownups to me. I think it's pretty normal, though. Lots of people our age have parents who are in their 50s and 60s. Look at Inspector Williams. Her younger daughter's my age."

Snorting, Lara kicked her locker closed. A fast change artist. "It's still weird. Your parents still working, where you're working? Man. Why didn't you go to another division?"

Good question. "Find me a Division without a Peck and we'll charge 'em a flat of donuts a week until they fix it," she drawled.

"Okay, you know you suck, Peck!" But Lara elbowed her friendlily as they left the locker rooms.

She tried not to wince, but her ribs were still sore. It wouldn't have been a problem if Christian had only elbowed her once. He's nailed her four times, twice hard, and his elbows were damn pointy. The asshole. "Please," she told Lara. "I'm the luckiest bitch in this joint, and you know it."

Lara scowled. "How _are_ you so lucky?"

"I inherited it from my grandmother. The most arrests in her rookie year, in Fifteen's history." They dry fired their guns and went to the Parade room.

Andy was already standing up front, reading from her phone. When Vivian walked in, she pointed. "Peck. You know the Don Triad area?"

"Uh. Yes." She glanced at Lara, confused.

"Good. You're lead. Take Volk. Fox and Davis, report to Peck about locations to search."

Vivian blinked. "To search for ... Uh, Rodriguez?"

"Sterling." Andy gestured at a table. "Okay, folks, here's the deal. Nathan Sterling is after Anna Rodriguez for stealing drugs. He killed her son, accidental, which she doesn't know yet but probably suspects. You need to find him before he finds her and kills her. Peck knows the area. Any questions, you ping her first."

Fox, who was far older than Vivian, raised a hand. "Sorry, but why aren't we using dispatch for this?"

"Because I said so," sighed Andy. She put her phone down. "Rodriguez is into drugs and is hooking to make the money. Head out to the seedy underbelly. Serve, protect, watch each other's backs."

Vivian scratched the back of her head as she headed back out, Lara at her heels. "Hookers and drugs. Remind me why I thought this life was glamorous," she sighed.

"Cause you're an idealist, like your mom," growled a familiar, if grouchy, voice.

Turning, Vivian grinned. "Hey, Sgt. Anderson. Long time." She knew Frankie mostly from the LGBT crap Gail had to do, but the detective was well known in homicide for her closure rates. And maybe, just maybe, Vivian had a crush on Frankie once, back when she'd been fourteen. She'd also had a crush on Lt. Tran. Why did her parents have to know a bunch of hot women?

"Long enough I didn't know you'd been cut loose. Congrats. Who you riding with?"

Pointing at Lara, Vivian introduced. "Lara Volk, this is Sgt. Frankie Anderson, Homicide at ThirtyFour."

Frankie looked Lara up and down. "She good?" Vivian nodded. "You know what I mean, Peck."

If Lara had been a Peck, she'd have been sat down at told the rules just then. Frankie was asking if Vivian trusted Lara with a secret. "She's good, Frankie," said Vivian quietly.

Studying them both, Frankie nodded. "Right, both of you come with me for a minute. Office."

Andy was waiting for them. "You're going to tell them?"

"Peck could find out anyway. Volk's need to know." Frankie sat down and started with a question. "Why aren't we using dispatch?"

The two rookies exchanged a look. Fox had asked that and Andy blew it off. This was a good question. "Dispatch is compromised?" That was Lara's guess.

But Vivian knew you didn't ask. "Dispatch has public channels anyone with a radio and a brain can listen in on, and since its cross division, we have to use some of them."

At Frankie's nod, Lara scowled. "Why not use private channels?"

Vivian shook her head. "We'd be alerting them to the fact we're on to them."

"Who's _them_ ," asked Lara, confused. And then. "Oh. Sterling! He's using us to find Rodriguez?!"

Frankie grinned. "They're smart, see?" She pointed at Lara. "Tell me why I'm here."

The other officer blinked and looked at Vivian, lost. Vivian mouthed 'work it out' and tried to look encouraging. She was pretty sure she knew. "Why is Sgt. Anderson, from Homicide, here?" Lara swallowed. "Um. Well Rodriguez can't be dead or you wouldn't have us looking for her, Ma'am," she said to Andy. "Hookers and drugs and... Dead John?"

Even Andy looked impressed. "Well hell," muttered McNally. "How'd you get that?"

"We've been looking at druggies and streetwalkers for two days. So obviously Rodriguez already nicked Sterling's drugs, which suggests she's not selling but using. She's probably feeding her habit with money she made on the street."

"You better apply for that detective spot in the next year or two, Volk," McNally scowled. "You get that too, Peck?"

Vivian nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And putting me up front makes it look like its nothing but some Peck conspiracy to push me ahead, which keeps the others from looking too deep into motive... That way no one pulls a Gerald and trips us all up."

That made Andy smile. Frankie rolled her eyes. "I can't believe he's still here. Yes, Rodriguez's prints came up on a dead John. Heart attack driving home after sex. Here is her last known. Send the others to these locations," she added, texting Vivian. "Got it?"

Reading the addresses, Vivian frowned until she pulled up a map. "Oh, you're bracketing her with public police presence... Wow. That looks hella random, ma'am."

The detective smirked. "Took me all fucking day to lay this out right. Price and Peck are bitches about this shit." She paused. "Not Gail, Steve."

Vivian smiled. "I won't - _we_ won't fuck this up, ma'am."

After giving out locations to look for Rodriguez, Vivian buckled in and drove to the spot Frankie had given her for them. Lara was quiet, mostly making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. "This is big, Peck," she said softly.

"Yep," agreed Vivian.

"Is that... Does being a Peck give you an all access pass like that?"

Vivian hesitated. You weren't supposed to talk about it. But she could say some things "No. Not the way you're thinking." She drummed her fingers on the wheel and frowned. "It's not a free pass. It's a ... Double edged sword."

Thankfully, Lara was smart. "You had to earn it?"

"Yeah, yeah I did. And I had to pay for it." She exhaled. "Look. Almost my whole life, since I was ten, I knew this was what I wanted to be. I worked my ass off for this."

"I should be pissed," noted Lara. "You get a lot more things handed to you. But they expect a hell of a lot more. And you have a lot more to lose, don't you?"

"Everything." She stopped at a four-way stop. "Okay. Look. Anderson said she was last seen over by the bridge, right? She won't be back there two nights in row, not if she knows Sterling is after her."

"Which she has to know," agreed Lara. "She stole the drugs. Someone would have to be a moron to think they won't come after her."

Vivian snorted. "Well she stole 'em in the first place. She's no Rhodes scholar."

Her partner smiled. "Truth. Okay. Where would you go if you were hiding from evil bosses?"

"Afghanistan," sighed Vivian. The long arm of the law would always find her, though. "But. Assuming I can't leave the country-"

"No," Lara interrupted. "Three kids. She doesn't _want_ to leave the country. She doesn't want to leave them. So she's gonna stick around haunts she knows. Places she trusts." Lara tapped on the computer. "Okay. So here's all her arrest points. Here's here known locations. She's not very..." The officer trailed off.

Vivian understood. "She's predictable. Is there any order? Does she hit 'em in a pattern?"

Her partner studied the list. "No. But... She hasn't hit up this area in a few years."

Right. Vivian turned the car to the location Lara had indicated. "Thank god she's not a seasoned professional, right?"

Lara concentrated on the road. "Yeah, that's what worries me. Sterling is a professional."

That was a good thing to worry about, realized Vivian. "You think he's thinking this?"

"Yeah. See.. I can't think like a coked out hooker. But I _can_ think like an idiot mad enough to do anything to find someone." Lara was so damn serious, it was shocking. There was something about her tone that implied a story.

Everyone was entitled to their secrets. Following the idea of where Sterling might be was a better idea than guessing where someone scared might hide. "Think like a kidnapper and drug dealer who's trying to think like a druggie... Who was double dipping moron with two gangs, on of whom is engaged in a city takeover of the trade." She drummed her thumbs on the wheel. "I'd want to stay _out_ of Three Rivers' territory. Show up, a known dealer, and they'll knock me off. But I want this crazy bitch bad, so I'll play on the fringes. And I figure if she scrumped from me, she's got to have pissed them off too. Which means... Her fucking apartment?"

Lara grinned. "And they say you can't go home again."

Vivian turned the car. "Jesus, that's so stupid."

"I know. But a brain trust wouldn't steal from her own dealers in the first place." Lara shook her head. "That's the most I have _ever_ heard you say in one go, Vivian!"

This felt like one of those moments Holly always said would happen, when someone was offering to get you out of a tree, or hang out with you. Oh. Oh _that_ _'_ _s_ what Gail's tree thing meant! This was a friendship offering. Okay, it was time to get out there. "Viv," she sighed absently. "My friends call me Viv."

"Not Vivi?"

"Never twice," she smiled awkwardly. "Hey... Coming up on the apartment. You got a clear view?"

"I do... Bathroom light is on."

Killing the engine and the lights, Vivian coasted to a stop at the end of the block. They eased the doors open and stepped out into the biting cold of the night. "Back door is ajar," noted Vivian. She pulled her hat snug on her head and looked around the area. It was dead.

Down at the other end of the block, a crappy car pulled up, engine off. Same as they'd done. "Non descript," muttered Lara. "You don't think he followed us."

Vivian shook her head. "No way, I would have noticed." Elaine and Gail would give her hell for years if that had happened. "He's just thinking like we are."

They hung back and watched as only Sterling got out of the car. "No backup. He's confident."

"Calling it in," muttered Vivian. She texted Andy and Frankie, saying they had eyes on Sterling. Right away, Andy redirected a unit, Fox and Latimer, to act as backup. They waited, watching Sterling case the joint but not try to get in. "He's listening, isn't he?"

Lara nodded. "Give my arm for a damn parabolic listening."

That would be nice. "We don't know if Rodriguez is in there."

"She's in there. Probably shooting up or coming down from a high. She's scared, so she needed to relive the pressure."

That was a knowing voice, realized Vivian. Lara lived with a single mother and grandmother. Everyone had secrets. Her phone vibrated. "Fox is in position. Okay. Now we just herd Sterling over to them without spooking Rodriguez-"

Lara cursed. "She's coming out the window." And Lara took off running.

With a follow up curse, Vivian took off after her. Damn it. Their footsteps caused Sterling to stop at the door and turn. Slapping her radio, Vivian huffed, "4727! Sterling's on the move and Rodriguez is headed out the window. Fox, Latimer, pick up Rodriguez. We're on Sterling."

Her radio crackled. "Peck! Backup is on the way!" That was McNally. "Can you get him?"

Vivian watched Sterling vault a fence and grinned. "Yes, ma'am." Then to Lara. "He's headed down the alley. Go right, I'll send him your way."

"Right!" Lara skidded off.

It wasn't until Vivian had gathered herself up for the jump that she realized the horrible flaw in her plan. As she jumped, catching the lip of the fence, Vivian felt her ribs pull. This was going to hurt. A lot. Gritting her teeth, she used momentum and hauled herself up and over, landing hard. "Crap," she winced. She wasn't going to be able to catch Sterling. Plan B. "Freeze! Police!"

Sterling's head snapped around, gun in his hand, as he saw her, he raised it and skidded to a stop. It was weird. Vivian wasn't scared. Her world narrowed in to this moment. There was a man with a gun. Vivian was a cop. She had a job. Vivian drew her gun, bringing it up and centering on his body. "I said freeze, Sterling," she shouted.

He was concentrating on her. "You won't shoot me!"

"You have a gun, Sterling! Put it down, kick it away, keep your hands up, or I will shoot." Later on, days later, Vivian would have to process if she would have shot. At the time, at this moment, she knew one thing. She had a partner.

Lara flew out of the alley and tackled Sterling like a linebacker. He hit the ground hard, the gun skittering down the alley. "She said put the gun down," growled Lara, clearly angry, as she forced his face down and cuffed.

Fox brought Rodriguez in safely. Lara took the collar for Sterling. Frankie swore at them all, loudly, and complained about how she'd be up another damn 24 hours. But they'd done a good job.

They ended up at the only place in the area open at three AM. Lakeview Restaurant. Which did not have the view of a lake. But it did have an Irish milkshake, which Andy told them to try. As soon as Vivian took a sip, she burst out laughing and ended up telling Lara the story of Kevin Ford, because the only way to explain why Andy knew this place was to explain about that.

"They stopped a robbery here?"

"Yep, Dov and Andy did." She took a bite of her burger and sighed happily. "God that's good."

Lara looked around. "Fifteen has such a history. That's wild."

"Yeah?" Vivian leaned back. "It's us now too."

The look on Lara's face changed to one of fear. "How can we... God, do you _always_ feel this incredible pressure not to fuck up? I mean, what if they find out how screwed up we are?"

Vivian twirled a french fry between her fingers. Her moms were two of the most accomplished women in law enforcement. Married almost twenty years. Her grandmother had been a Superintendent. Her aunt and uncle were Inspectors. So was her not-known asshat grandfather. "They know we're messed up, Lara," sighed Vivian slowly. "They know we screw up and make mistakes. God, Andy's first rookie, Gerald, nearly got her killed."

"Seriously? What happened to him?"

"Eventually he got better. I mean, Mom nearly ripped his ass a new one when he declared a guy dead who was alive. But he learned. Became a TO even," she smiled. The legend of Gerald, without naming his name, could be useful. Gail always said that Duncan wasn't Gerald anymore, after all.

Smiling back, Lara looked relieved. And then she did that weird thing people did that Vivian never understood. She told something deep. "My mom, my real mom, died when I was ten. OD'd." Vivian blinked and opened her mouth. "I live with my step-mom, her husband, and my dad's mom. Dad died of cancer when I was eighteen."

Vivian nodded slowly. "So you took this a little... Closer to home?"

Her friend and partner nodded back. "I don't mean to but... My mom blew me off, dumped me on my dad. I see Rodriguez and her kid _died_ because she was an idiot."

Yeah. Vivian got that. "It's not you. Like... That kid last month? He's not me. The things that happened to us, we just have to stop it. We protect people like us."

"You make it sound easy."

Shaking her head, Vivian sucked her milkshake. "No. No, it's hard as hell. But we keep trying."

Lara tilted her head. "Yeah. We do." She reached over with her shake and Vivian tapped her own to it. "You know, even though you're hard to know, Peck, you're a good person."

Slowly, Vivian swirled her shake, dipping a fry in and munching it. "Everyone has secrets, Lara. It's allowed."

"Yeah," smiled Lara. "Everyone does... How much shit did you go through to get that smart, Viv?"

"Lots." Lots and lots. "But you, you're going to be a D. You're smart too."

"Think your mom would teach me tricks?"

Vivian laughed. "No, but I know a couple Ds who would be awesome mentors."

So this was making friends. It was kind of nice.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they inch closer and closer on the case. In two weeks, part one of the thrilling season finale!
> 
> Christmas happens off camera, by the way. Vivian stays home and works and absolutely nothing happens except a fratboy's car sinks in a pond.


	9. 01.09 Different, Not Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang wars heat up. And Noelle is getting close to retirement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter ends on a cliffhanger AND I won't be posting the resolution for three weeks. I suck, I know.

There were many things Holly never tired of. She never tired of watching the sunset on the lake by the cabin. She never tired of waking up beside her beautiful wife. She never tired watch her daughter laugh. And especially she never tired of spending a day, elbow deep in the guts of a dead body, determining cause of death, identity, and life.

Today it was bones. Greasy, dead maybe six years, bones of an adult male, middle aged. The wear on his bones indicated he'd been severely overweight, if not obese, most of his life, causing a slight curve to his lower extremities and spinal compression. The latter probably didn't help his scoliosis.

Pitting in the nasal cavities suggested chronic drug use. Interesting. That rarely went hand in hand with excessive weight. Diabetes? Maybe. That was a complicated situation and difficult to tell from bones alone. She sighed and checked the bones.

"Is the femur intact?"

Holly paused and tilted her head. "The first time you watched me work in the lab, did you stare at my ass the whole time?"

"Not the whole time," admitted Gail. "That's the dead guy from the pool removal, right?"

"Indeed." Holly straightened and popped her lower back. "I think you're right about getting tables that elevate."

Gail smiled and picked up the tablet on the counter. "Why a hotel renovates in winter, I'll never know."

"Why my wife is here and not her own office, where she has a case she has been hung up on for the last seven months, I'll never know." Holly picked up the femur and turned it around in her hands. "This case has nothing to do with your department. Your friend Frankie pulled it in."

"I tolerate Anderson," grumbled Gail. "And I can't look at Steve's case anymore, it's giving me a headache."

Holly glanced at her wife. Gail was frustrated about a lot of things at the moment. The last had been the offer to run Fifteen as the Inspector. "Did you turn them down?"

Gail nodded and sat down on a stool, kicking it to spin around. "Maybe I should take the other offer. The big building."

Glancing over again, Holly snorted. "You mean like Boyko and Frank did? You'd be bored, honey. There are no entertaining losers breaking the law in fun ways. Just meetings all day."

Her wife let the spinning stool slowly cease to rotate. "Do you mind that I'll spend my life in Major Crimes?"

"No," said Holly with a smile, putting the femur on the tray.

"Well that was fast." Gail sighed, leaned back, and looked at the ceiling.

Holly shook her head. "My hands are covered in ick, honey, I can't hug you. You have a brilliant mind, no patience for fools, and no capacity for boredom. This is the perfect job for you. High pressure cases, a wide variety of of crimes, everything from inventive criminals, to terrorists, to morons with drugs, to that guy who poisoned the beer at the hockey games."

There was a laugh from her wife. "Okay. The beer was cool."

The beer had been poisoned by tampering with the filters on the beer distributors that the sellers wore when walking up and down the stands. Their poisoner had dipped them into 'sanitization' fluid which was actually not at all. Brilliant. And when Holly's team had taken apart every single piece of the device, Gail's had methodically followed the victims. The most ill were the people in the nosebleed seats, at the back of the rows. The highest concentration of poison was on the nozzle. After that, Gail said it had been easy.

"It was. And it's exactly who and what you are, honey. You are incredibly weird and diverse and eclectic and brilliant. So no, I don't mind if you stay in this for the rest of your life. I think you will be happy and, by extension, so will I."

Gail fell silent. Taking that as a sign, Holly bent her head to her work, bringing the bone over to her smaller table and carefully sawing it open. Marrow. Excellent. She extracted a small amount and labeled it. Then she took slivers of the bones and did the same. Holly fell into the zen of her work, forgetting everything except the bones and the work at hand.

The first time Gail had been in the lab, she'd said she could live there. The quiet, the lack of pressure, the time spent being studious and working slowly and precisely, spoke to the fractured cop. It was a respite from a world of pressure and pain and Pecks. Sometimes Gail liked to sit there and think while Holly worked. She liked to escape. Holly, who rarely tolerated anyone hanging around like that, enjoyed having Gail's presence. Not that she'd tell her wife that, it would just give Gail ideas.

Without a word, Gail waited until Holly had washed up and sent her samples to the labs. She picked up Holly's coat and held it out for her, kissed her cheek, and shrugged into her own winter jacket. Holly closed the door and watched the blonde, hands shoved deep into jacket pockets, head tilted in thought.

She knew better than to interrupt. The thinking process of her wife was not something to cut into. Gail was probably actually thinking about the case that was, ostensibly, Steve's. They walked to Holly's car, Gail getting in and staring blankly out the window.

As she buckled up, Holly cleared her throat. "Honey, where's your car?"

"Home. Relay brought me over." Gail smiled. "Wednesday."

Holly smiled. "You're insane, you know that. Right?"

"Hey, every Wednesday, since the kid's been seven, we go to the batting cages." Gail closed her eyes. "Drive us to the cages, wifey. I'm going to try and solve my case."

"Far be it from me to spare the criminal underbelly," smiled Holly, and she took the long way to the cages, letting Gail have more time to dwell. She pulled up at the parking and spotted their daughter leaning against her motorcycle, talking on her phone. "Oh my god," Holly laugh-snorted.

Gail looked over, startled, and laughed. "Wow. That is the absolute butchest thing I have seen in years."

Vivian had her head slightly down, a thick, black and red riding jacket on, jeans, and boots. The boots matched the ones Gail loved to wear, though they were buckled. The jacket looked like the one Holly wore in college, though all good riding jackets looked similar. The helmet was dangling off a handlebar and Vivian was toying with her scarf.

"I wonder who she's on the phone with," mused Holly as she unbuckled.

"The nurse Rachel set her up with. Beth." Gail was grinning ear to ear. "This is going to be date three."

"Oh, wow. Getting serious, huh?"

"She likes her. Said Beth was funny and smart." Gail tossed her coat into the car. "We should wait till they have sex before we start pressing her to bring Beth over for dinner." Holly swatted Gail's arm and took her hand, walking over to the door and their daughter.

The young cop looked up and smiled at her moms. "Okay, tomorrow's good. I'll meet you there before my shift? Great. Yeah, I can't wait. Have a good night." Vivian hung up. "Not a word, Mom."

Gail snorted. "I didn't say anything!" And yet they all knew she meant Gail with that comment.

"You don't have to," laughed Holly. "You didn't have to wait out here, Viv."

"It's cool," Vivian shrugged.

Holly smiled. "Why aren't you meeting Beth tonight?"

"She's on nights. I'm back on days, so I don't feel so blah. Seriously, I hate night shift." Vivian shook her head. "We're having breakfast tomorrow."

"Fine. I won't say anything." Gail smiled at Holly and kissed her cheek. "Let's go hit shit."

It didn't escape Holly's notice that Gail was watching their kid differently that night. There was a trace of worry coloring the blonde's face, a shadow of doubt. Holly waited until they were in the car to ask. "What's going on?"

Gail chewed her lower lip. "Three Rivers has been buying up guns."

Sometimes Holly thought 'guns and gangs' was just a joke of a name, slapping two alliterative terms together. And then these moments happened. "You're sending the rookies out to ...?"

"Keep watch. They're going to be posted at the least likely warehouses. But." Gail sighed. "When they had me do that as a rookie, Chris got stabbed."

Holly knew that story. Chris had told her. And she knew Gail worried about their kid. "Well. She wants this, Gail. You can't stop her."

"I know," muttered Gail. "I don't like it."

Before she put the car into gear, Holly leaned over the console and touched Gail's face. "Hey." Her wife turned and smiled tiredly. "You're a great cop, honey," whispered Holly, and she kissed her softly. "You're going to keep the kids as safe as you can, tell them what they need to know, and protect all of them. And. You're going to let them do their jobs."

Nodding, Gail returned the kiss. "Thanks."

"Good. Stop stressing." Holly settled back in her seat and shifted into reverse as Gail snorted. "That is really unattractive, the snorting."

"You love me," laughed Gail.

She did, Holly smiled. She did indeed.

* * *

As Vivian walked into the locker room, she saw Jenny and Lara being conspiratorial. That was never good. Viv put her bag down and immediately the other women sat down on either side.

"What's her name?" Jenny grinned ear to ear.

"Who?" Vivian blinked and hung up her jacket.

"The cutie who kissed you at the coffee shop?"

Ah crap. "Beth, she's a nurse." Vivian put her bag in her locker, tossing her watch in and changing it for the one she wore on patrol. Gail's 10 year watch was utilitarian and basic, engraved with her name and dates. The twenty year watch was a showpiece and ugly as hell. Holly had laughed about it. But this one, this watch was right for a patrol officer. Vivian ran her thumb over it, in absent memory.

Jenny, on the other hand, was fixed on her subject. "Beth the nurse. Is there a second date?"

Technically it would be the fourth. "Probably. She got paged and said she'd call me later. How the hell did you know anyway?"

The woman smiled and held up her coffee cup. "Dripz is my favorite coffee shop. Did she call you yet?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Jesus, it's been an hour. She's still at work. Like _we_ _'_ _re_ supposed to be."

"You should text her," Lara decided, and picked up Vivian's phone. "What's your passcode?"

"Fuck no," snarled Vivian, snatching her phone back.

Laughing, Jenny pulled on her belt. "Come on, Peck. She kissed you."

Vivian felt a flush color her neck. That was true. "Why are you obsessing on my date? Don't you have your own to moon over?"

"Aha! I knew it was a date!" Lara grinned.

Rolling her eyes, Vivian started to change into her uniform. "It was a date, yes. I do go on dates."

"You never tell us about them," pointed out Jenny. "I tell you all about mine."

"In excruciating detail," muttered Lara. "But you helped me pick out my dress last week for my date, Viv."

"So?" Vivian blinked at the two women.

Lara groaned. "You know, for someone raised by two women, you fail at girl talk, Peck."

She had to smile. "Moms don't girl talk." Gail certainly never did unless she was being evil and sarcastic. Holly might, but she hated it and called it banal.

"You barely talk," sighed Jenny, dramatically. "How'd you meet her?"

Narrowing her eyes, Vivian asked, "Are you sure this is normal?" Both Jenny and Lara nodded. "Okay... My aunt set us up. Beth's a nurse at St. Pats, and Aunt Rachel works there."

"You let your family set you up?"

"Anyone except my grandmother," nodded Vivian. "Elaine's _really_ bad at it." And in fact she had suggested maybe she should start finding young ladies for Vivian, which had spurred Vivian into action.

Lara buckled on her belt. "Hell, if Beth doesn't work out, I'll find you some girls who like cops."

Making a face, Jenny shook her head. "Oh please no. No badge bunnies. The guys are bad enough. I can't imagine how the girls are."

"About the same," confirmed Vivian. "Went out with one a couple months ago. Yuck."

"How many dates have you and Beth been on?" Lara buckled her duty belt on.

She was not going to get out of this. "That was the third," sighed Vivian.

"Sleep with her?" Jenny was grinning.

"Okay, no. Hell no. No way, no how are we talking about that." Vivian slammed her locker closed.

Jenny nodded at Lara. "That's a no. She wouldn't be that grumpy if she got laid."

Agreeing, Lara clapped her locker closed. "Truth. Three dates and no sex. Is that normal for two girls?"

"Not _me_ ," mused Jenny, studying Vivian. "She's shy. No. She's secretive."

"Okay, Jenny, shut up," scowled Vivian. "Seriously. Knock it off."

Her tone seemed to work and they headed out to Parade. No more digging. They filed into the room and Noelle was sitting at the front. "Okay, kids. Settle down. We've got some news." Dov looked nervous for the first time in a long time. "Welcome back for the new year, everyone. Today is the first day I have you all back, so I want you to know we're going to be making some changes. First. End of the month, Inspector Williams is retiring."

The room fell dead silent. Vivian glanced over at the old guard, where Andy was nervous too. She ran over the chain of command in her head. Gail was the ranking officer after Noelle. It went Noelle, Gail, Steve, Traci, Dov and Chloe (though Chloe had no political aspirations so Vivian didn't ever count her), and _then_ Andy. So, since Gail had too much on her hands as is, it was probably Steve. So why was Dov looking so nervous? Steve liked him.

"Our interim Inspector will be Steven Peck, whom you know from, ah, Guns and Gangs," continued Dov. "Then in spring ... That is when I'll be transferring full time to the Staff Superintendent's team."

Lara and Jenny both elbowed her. "What the hell?" That was Jenny, hissing in her ear.

"Didn't know," Vivian hissed back. "Seriously." Of course, as soon as she said it, a dozen small conversations dropped into place. Dov had been worried about a transfer. His transfer. "McNally's taking over as sarge," she realized, a little horrified.

Well. McNally could do it, she mused, but still. That was weird. She never thought of Andy as being in charge of anything. "Sgt. McNally," Dov noted, looking over at the rookies. "Effective now. Say goodbye to your favorite TO kids." They all broke into applause on cue. "Collins is now lead TO, so complain to him if you don't like your assignments."

That caused general laughter. Andy took the podium. "Okay, folks. Epstein and I will be trading things off for a while. And yes, Duncan, I've got a white shirt. Today, you get to have some experience working with our soon-to-be Division Inspector. Peck?"

Steve smiled and gestured over his shoulder, activating the screen. "Two households, both alike in dignity. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Behind her, Vivian heard Duncan ask what Italy had to do with anything. She shook her head, as did Andy. "Or in this case, two gangs," Andy explained, tapping the wall and highlighting a face that was weirdly familiar. "Bobby Zanaro. Son of one of the lieutenants of Three Rivers."

"A gang," Steve pointed out. "A gang we took down a quarter century ago. Bobby Jr. goes by the nickname Blue. He's taken back over the gang, restoring them to their former gun running, drug dealing, glory." Steve gestured and Vivian saw he had a clicker in his hand. A woman's face came up on screen. "Dr. Veronica Van Lowe, aka Spikes. She's their resource for the laced marijuana you kids helped us bust last year. Finally, this is Jackie Reynolds, aka Red."

The names all settled in Vivian's head. They'd taken the names from the comic book? How stupid. Chloe, who'd been quietly perched to the side, spoke up. "Red is an accountant who used to work for the Hill gang before she broke off to run, with Hill's permission, about a quarter of the old Rivers territory." Chloe slid off her stool and tapped the screen, a section of the territory going red. "Now it's a third."

Steve tapped Blue and Spikes in turn, lighting up the rest of the area in blue and yellow. "We're splitting you guys up, working with TwentySeven and ThirtyFour. Detectives Swarek and Anderson will be point there, respectively."

"Assignments are on the board," explained Andy. "Serve. Protect." Andy paused and then glanced at the old guard for a moment, before turning to the rookies with a grin. "And don't screw up." She rapped the podium.

* * *

They were the old guard, the four of them. Dov and Andy in their white shirts, Gail and Traci in their suits (or as much of one as Gail wore). "Does it feel real?" Traci fixed Andy's collar.

"I feel lazy," admitted Andy, eying her shirt.

"Took ya long enough," agreed Gail, her boots propped up on the coffee table in Dov's office. "Twenty five years to get here."

Dov shoved Gail's feet off the table. "Hey, she's been on more teams than any of us." He grinned. "UC three times. Once for a whole damn year, and she took down the human smuggling ring. Then ... It was drugs for a couple years, that year and a half on vice?"

"Juvenile," Traci chimed in. "K9-"

"Yeah, though that was a total, total failure." Gail grinned. The dog had totally been in charge of Andy that whole time. "Fine, she's done a lot of shit. She's still the _last_ one of us to make sergeant."

Reaching over, Traci held her palm up in Gail's face. "Ignore the Inspector. She's just bragging because she made inspector first. Which is because she totally snipes all the high profile cases, like saving the damn King."

Gail shoved Traci's hand away. "He'd been the prince. And _Chloe_ made sergeant before her! She didn't even get cut loose till-" Traci's hand covered her mouth.

But Andy was laughing. This was the relationship they all had. They gave each other hell, they teased and mocked and harassed. And they were, in the end, friends. Which was still weird to Gail. "I can't believe you turned the job down, Gail," admitted Andy, pulling Traci's hand off her face.

"What? In the Big Building? Please, I'd rather be left for dead in a trunk again." Gail shook her head, ignoring the pained expressions her friends wore from being reminded of Perik. "I really like what I do." And Holly had been right the night before. Too many meetings, too many people, too much non-cop work. She'd be bored.

Dov sat on the coffee table. "Can't spy on your kid from there."

Gail snorted. "You're just jealous my kid's so damn awesome."

"She's a Peck," teased Traci Peck. "We can spy from anywhere." She and Gail high-fived. "It's seriously creepy, Viv being a cop, you know. I feel _old_."

"I'm younger than my folks were when we started." Gail had done the math a few times. Her parents had been Noelle's age now.

The group took a moment to digest that. Finally Dov said, "I really hope Chris doesn't want to be a cop. It's weird enough seeing Christian every day."

They all agreed to that. "It's not that weird," shrugged Gail. "I mean… I wish she'd stuck with engineering, but the kid wanted this. I'm kind of jealous of her sometimes."

Andy, the other legacy cop, nodded. "You know that's why I never really looked at being a D. I didn't want people to see my dad."

"Oh, no," Gail shook her head. "I could totally be a kick as Superintendent. Don't wanna be. Dov can have that fun."

The man snorted. "I'm going to be the Super's sergeant, Gail."

"And in four years, max, we'll all be talking about how Superintendent Epstein stepped on a booby trap," she quipped.

Laughing, Traci added, "Cracked his back on a horse."

"Failed his recert," teased Andy.

"Out shot _all_ of you at distance," Dov sassed right back.

Andy laughed more. "God, I wonder which one of this class will be the first D."

As one, Traci and Gail replied, "Volk."

Dov jerked his head towards them. "Not like they've thought about it. Christian's going to be the TO, though. He's got the look."

"He's the Oliver. Mostly," agreed Andy.

"No one's Oliver but Oliver," Gail pointed out. "Inspector Shaw. That was funny as hell. Remember how weird he looked in a suit that first week?" That had been the same week Sam had transferred out and Oliver's first appointment was putting Traci as the Homicide Squad lead.

"I wonder who will be our new inspector," mused Traci.

Both Dov and Andy looked surprised. "Steve's not…" Dov looked between the Pecks. "Wow. I thought it was interim because they hadn't finalized things. He's really retiring?"

"Summertime," confirmed Gail. "He's taking a job with our uncle. Sitting on his ass playing in-house security boss." She sighed. Eli had made a great offer that Steve snatched up. She didn't blame him, but she would miss him.

Traci looked happy about it. "He's excited. I think after almost forty years, it's a relief."

That caused a different kind of pause. "Shit, we're _old_ ," muttered Andy, stunned. "Do you think we'll all make fifty?"

Dov shook his head. "I don't... You know, this is weird, but I think we'll all tap out before that... Except Gail."

She blinked. "What? Why me?"

"Because you ..." He paused. "I used to think you were just another Peck, a suck up who was just going to bide time until you could be a lazy white shirt." Dov smiled at her as Gail flipped him off. "But I was the white shirt. And you ... You just took this weird left turn and suddenly you're in charge of all this."

Gail shook her head. "I like what I do. And I'm good at it," she added, frowning at them. Everyone was grinning at her. "What?"

"It's like marriage and motherhood defanged her," said Andy in a stage whisper.

"Don't get cocky just because you finally won a shoot, Girl Guide," snarled Gail. "I'm the ice queen of Fifteen and don't you forget it. You all work for me."

"You were saying," laughed Traci. "Come on, we have some crime to solve and those gun shipments aren't going to unstable themselves."

She was right, too. The amount of guns being sold to the two gangs had risen astronomically. Steve had been worried about it and was sure it meant there would be deaths soon. Having read his report, Gail was inclined to believe him. Gangs that didn't normally lean towards guns suddenly arming up was a concern.

"Where are we sending the rookies?" Andy pulled up the report on her laptop. All the fun projection toys were in Gail's office or Parade. Not even Traci had as cool a set up as Gail did. There were perks that came with her job.

"Two warehouses where we just want to monitor," explained Traci. "Half are over watching the Hills, half watching Rivers. Rotate 'em back and forth."

"Meanwhile," picked up Gail. "Fox, Blanchard, and Connor will take care of the real tricky places. Moore's on regular patrol around the bars they frequent."

Dov sighed. "They went fast from spiking each other's drugs to shooting."

Gail shrugged. "They haven't started shooting yet."

"They will." Dov was certain and so was Gail, frankly. "Three cousins, the grandkids of the Zanaros. That's insane."

"Gangs never make sense," Andy commented. "Did they really kill Anton Hill?"

"Dr. Van Lowe was his doctor." Gail stood up. "Pretty sure." They couldn't know for sure, not without another autopsy, and the Hills were never going to agree to that. "Anton Hill. The motive was funny, you know. His gang took over the power vacuum after Bobby Zanaro was gone." She looked out the windows and over the desks where people were hustling around. People including her daughter, who was in her vest and jacket, pointing at something. Sons and daughters. Parents. That was a thought. "He's still in WitSec," she noted absently.

The others stared at her. "What?" Traci broke the silence first. "Zanaro's in WitSec?"

"Yeah, Ollie and I arrested him... Jesus, I wasn't even dating Holly yet. Anyway, we picked him up and he went into protection. I think he's in Alberta." Gail looked over her shoulder and blinked at her friends. "What? I was just thinking maybe I should try to get the Mounties to talk him into coming here and he could talk down his kid."

Traci looked thoughtful. "That could be interesting. But he may want to team up."

"Yeah, considering he was ousted because of a ploy from the Hills." Gail sighed. "I hate motives like this. Complicated, stupid, revenge plots. Lacing drugs, stealing territory, murder, set ups, buy outs... Honestly, if they could manage to just kill themselves and not hurt any bystanders, I'd be happy to let them shoot it out."

Dov shook his head. "Just when I think she's changed, the Ice Queen comes back and reminds me she doesn't care about the little people." He smiled at her. She smiled back. They were old jokes, old jibes between friends.

But if they could manage to kill themselves and hurt no one else, Gail would be happy indeed.

* * *

"Is it weird to ask about your job?" Beth tilted her head as they walked to the gastro pub. The restaurant had been Traci's recommendation when Vivian gave in and asked for date advice. Her aunt was always good with that.

"Uh, provided you're not about to tell me you're into handcuffs, no. I don't think so."

Beth screwed up her face. "Oh god. Someone did?"

"I left without finishing my coffee," Vivian admitted. "Hi. Reservation for Peck." The hostess checked her computer and nodded, gesturing for them to follow.

"Reservations. Smart."

Vivian felt her face heat up. "My … my other aunt said it's really popular on week nights."

Beth grinned at her. "Rachel said you used your resources. I was trying to figure out what that meant."

"Oh, she meant I build a rocket out of junk." Vivian laughed as they followed the hostess to their table.

"A real rocket?"

"Real enough my Mom had to sit me down and explain what the law was about launching homemade rockets." Mostly that had to do with where the rocket might land. It was, for the most part, legal and fine to have done. Holly had been delighted and signed her up for a science club. And Rachel... Well the first rocket had landed on her car, shattering the back window, so she'd been significantly less delighted.

The hostess looked concerned. "Do you... Uh, do you want to make a drink order now?"

"Ice tea, please." Vivian grinned. Poor hostess.

"Same." Beth waited till the hostess left. "She's totally going to tell the waiter we were talking about rockets."

"I should trump that with a bomb story," Vivian said, conspiratorially.

Beth smiled and leaned in. "I had a lizard in a guy's leg once."

It took a moment for the words to arrange themselves properly. "Wait. _In_ the leg?"

"Yeah! This guy had an alligator lizard on his leg, freaked out, and tried to stab it." Beth's eyes lit up and Vivian couldn't help but smile at the story. "And I guess lizards like holes, so it jumped in and got turned around. Every time we tried to pull it out, it bit at us."

The idea was so bizarre, Vivian laughed. "How did you get it out?"

"We called animal control and the woman just let it bite her finger so she could pull it out."

The waiter chose that moment to come by with the drinks. "I'll just give you a minute," he smiled, rushing away the moment the drinks were on the table.

They shared a look and broke out laughing. The rest of their dinner conversation went that way. They both shared a bit of a love for the bizarre and weird. Totally true stories of cops and nurses. As they walked back out into the cold January evening, Beth asked about her current work.

"It's boring. I'm on surveillance, which sounds cool but it means I sit for hours in a car and watch a building no one goes to, in order to make sure no one actually goes there."

"Can't tell me details, huh?" And Beth slipped her arm through Vivian's.

"Uh, no," replied Vivian. She was startled, but not unpleasantly. Beth was warm and funny and smart and soft.

The nurse smiled. "I can only get long sentences out of you if you're talking about work."

Vivian tried not to wince. "I'm not really that interesting."

"A sixteenth generation cop, gay, with two gay moms. Do you have any siblings?"

That was, weirdly, the first time anyone had asked her that. And Vivian didn't really know the answer. Yes. And, at the same time, no. "No," she finally said. But it felt strange. Wrong. Quickly, Vivian deflected. "You?"

"Three brothers. They're all older." Beth sighed. "You're lucky. They're such a pain in the ass." And Beth cheerfully told her about her brothers, how they used to pick on her and tease her. She'd been mad about dolphins as a girl, wanting to be a oceanographer, but her brothers had teased her by squeaking behind her at every opportunity.

It was a struggle to follow the story though. Vivian's brain was stuck on her sort-of lie. A sibling was a strange, nearly ephemeral concept to her, even now. She knew cousins, she had a lot of those thanks to Holly. But a sibling was a strange idea. She'd had one, she didn't now, and Vivian _Peck_ certainly had none. Did saying no devalue the impact her sister had borne? Did it make her less real? Did it erase her?

Kicking herself, Vivian smiled. "That sounds like something my mom, Gail, would do."

"The squeaking?"

"She's a bit of an ass," admitted Vivian, smiling. "And a child."

They had reached the parking lot. "So." Beth let go of Vivian's arm and looked up at her. "I had a really nice time."

"So did I." Vivian scratched the back of her head. Third date. They'd kissed. She leaned forward a little. "I'm still on days."

Beth nodded and smiled at her. "I'm not, but." She bit her lower lip. "I have tonight off. Maybe... I could come over?"

"Ah, I have roommates." Vivian made a face. "Don't know if that's how you want to meet them."

The nurse looked confused for a second. "Oh. No, you know walking in and saying 'Hi, I want to bang your daughter' probably doesn't go over well."

"They wouldn't mind," said Vivian. "My Moms I mean." Beth gave her a dubious look and Vivian sighed. Yeah. That tended to kill things off.

"I would mind," said Beth decisively. "And while I also have a roommate, she's on shift tonight." Beth arched her eyebrows. "You could park your bike in her spot."

A slow grin spread across Vivian's face, warming her up. "I'd like that."

Beth grinned back and reached up, her fingers warm on Vivian's winter chilled cheek, drawing her down the few inches to kiss. "Tell me you have an extra helmet," she said softly.

"I do," Vivian replied, equally softly.

It was a slightly distracting ride to Beth's place, with the nurse's arms snug around her waist, but the parking was underground and dry, apartment was empty of roommates, and the evening was definitely promising. Beth gave her the two-cent tour before leading her down the hall to a small bedroom. It was a small apartment, not that it mattered.

Vivian had the foresight to tell her mothers not to wait up before she'd left for the date. That prompted Gail to teasingly remind her to use protection. Holly rolled her eyes and promised to sit on Gail if she panicked. Given Gail's reaction a few months ago when she'd thought Vivian hadn't come home, it felt wise to warn them. Certainly it didn't bother Vivian that her mothers knew she was hoping to get lucky.

Not that she thought about her mothers much at all for the next while. Beth was pleasantly distracting, in all the good ways. Shorter than Vivian (though at 6'1", who wasn't?), rounder, and softer, Vivian found Beth to be positively delectable.

Beth also fell asleep after, a smile on her face.

Oh, how Vivian envied that. She closed her eyes and tried to relax in Beth's bed, but her body tensed every time sleep tried to wrap it's tendrils around her. Reluctantly, at one, Vivian slid out of the bed and into her clothes. Beth didn't even stir. Leaving a note on the night stand ('Had to leave for early shift. Didn't want to wake you. I'll call you.' - that wasn't needy, right? Or pushy? It was hard to tell sometimes.), Vivian let herself out and went home.

* * *

Holly put nicknacks in a box and sighed. Would it feel weird when she retired? Noelle wasn't that much older than she was, all things considered. They had daughters the same age. But here was Noelle, retiring. And Frank would be retired by the end of the year too. They were done.

"Thank you for doing this," said Noelle as she put her things in another box. "Everyone else is useless."

"Gail never helps anyone move," remarked Holly. "She barely helped herself move in with me, or us move in to the house. I think she only helped with the house because Vivian shamed her." The then six year old had frowned deeply and asked Gail if she was hurt.

"Gail is Gail," Noelle said, laughing. "Once she found her groove, she just marched to the beat of her own drummer."

Holly smiled. That was very true. Gail was her own person and liked it that way. And Holly was rather fond of the person whom Gail had become. Funny, smart, goofy, acerbic. Wonderful. A little prone to ignoring their diets, but Gail still had the metabolism of a teenaged boy. "I wish I'd know awkward rookie Gail," said Holly, wistfully.

"Suck up Peck? Nah, she was too bratty, even for you."

"I'd believe it." Holly had heard stories. "She's still pretty bratty and impetuous."

"Very toned down," Noelle said firmly. "Gail used to try so hard to be what she thought she was supposed to be."

That Gail was the one Holly had met. Struggling and failing and miserable and angry and then, all of the sudden, hers. "It worked out in the end."

"It usually does. I don't think any of us saw ourselves where we are, though."

Holly smiled. "I did. I bet Viv does too."

The older woman sighed and glanced out her door. "Your daughter makes me feel old."

"She's excellent at that, isn't she?" Holly grinned. "Liv makes me feel old. She's so energetic." Holly paused. "How's she doing in San Diego?"

"She's loving it. Sends me pictures all winter of the beach." Noelle rolled her eyes. "I'm taking a vacation down there in March."

The idea of spending winter at the beach was interesting. Holly hated the effect the seasons had on her, but she loved the winter. "Think you'll stay in Toronto?"

Noelle looked thoughtful. "Sophie's moving back. My sister is here. Probably. But Frank's family is south and there's that too. We're both going to be retired by end of the month."

And that was an even odder thought. "I think I'd get bored," said Holly, finally. "I mean... I like my job."

"So do I, but I'm tired of it." Noelle put the last of her desk items in the box. "Can you check that drawer?" As Holly did, she asked a simple question. "Don't you get tired?"

"Yes. But that's when I write an article or go speak somewhere." Holly pulled out a stack of files. "Forget something?"

Noelle winced. "My unsolved cases." She took half the stack and flipped through. "They're all dupes, but some of these I should return."

"Are you allowed to keep them?"

Waggling her hand, Noelle made it clear that it was a 'no but yes' kind of answer. "I can be. If Gail or some of the other Inspectors signs off."

That was easily done. "Gail would." To this day, Gail still felt like she owed Noelle and Frank for adopting Sophie. The girl had taken the last name of 'Best' in her early teens. Noelle had mentioned she might after retiring, but everyone at work had known her as Williams, and so she'd kept her maiden name.

"Yeah, she would. Can you put those in the box?"

"Sure." As she put the files in the box, Holly lingered over the last. It had Wanda's name on it and was not a duplicate. They labeled those differently. "Noelle, is this supposed to go back to the lab?"

Noelle looked over, surprised. "Oh that's the DNA results of a gang killing. The courier was supposed to take that."

Holly grinned. "I'll take it back then."

The older woman shook her head. "One day you'll tell me why you and Gail think making jokes about couriers is so damn funny."

Smiling, Holly shook her head. "I can't believe this is it. Your last week." She looked around the office.

"It has to be my last week some time." But Noelle looked a little sad as she closed the last box.

Later, as she walked though the lab, Holly flipped open the report to see where it should go. It was by accident that she actually looked at the results on the page. Two contributors. Both female. One with a familiar result. Weird. Why would that be familiar?

Once, a long time ago, she'd sarcastically asked Gail how good she was at identifying short tandem repeats by hand. As it happened, Holly was very good at it. She'd been doing it more than half her life, after all. Even so, after the millions of lab results, after the billions of tests run, she had no business remembering one specific result. That was Gail's knack.

And yet she knew that weird phenotype. It wasn't rare so much as uncommon, though Holly knew not to tell Gail that semantic as that would just get her wife riled up. Except it was uncommon and Holly had seen it. Recently.

Detouring, Holly went up to her office and pulled up the cases she'd worked on in the last year. Nothing. Holly closed her eyes and tried to visualize the blood. It wasn't a autopsy or a case she'd caught in the last year. She'd been showing it to Swarek. Why? He was related to Gail's case about the Rivers and Hill gangs.

White whale. That's what Andy had said. Anton Hill was Sam's white whale. Hill was dead, which was why his gang was up for grabs and why the Rivers groups were hounding them, playing all sorts of ... It was wrong to say 'tricks' but that's what they were doing. They were playing tricks on each other. Evil, death tricks. But tricks.

Holly tapped the keys and pulled up Anton Hills' file. Heart attack. Probably induced but that wasn't her case and now they would have to exhume. Holly scrolled down and stared at the blood work. Phenotype. She snatched the the report and stared at them in turn. "Fifty percent familial match," she muttered.

The case was for blood found at the site of the Rivers Gang's distribution point. Holly's hand shook as she pulled up the information she had on Bobby Zanaro. This was the longest shot ever. But it was a familiar match. Cousins. Maybe a nephew. Or a niece.

Did they have... She tabbed through every person related to the case before feeling like a moron. Holly picked up her phone and tapped Gail's number.

"Hey, Dr. Hotstuff," said Gail a little saucily.

"Gail, I'm sending you some DNA results. Can you expedite the scan? I need to know who this is."

Gail paused before answering. "You know technically I can't if it's not my case, Holly."

"I think I found Anton Hill's kid. And they're related to the blood you found at the distro point."

The silence this time was poignant. "Holly. Are you serious?"

Holly smiled and hit send on the data. "The blood is _also_ related to Bobby Zanaro, distantly."

Gail sucked in her breath. "You are the world's greatest forensic scientist in the universe, Holly Stewart. How the hell... You know what, tell me tonight. I've got the mail. If I need to, I'll get the fucking Mounties to expedite the shit out of this."

Of course, expedited in reality meant maybe she'd be lucky and get an answer by the morning. If only this was TV, Holly sighed, and filed the report with her own collection related to the Rivers case. Holly had always kept her own copies of weird cases. The stupid head bashed in case was still there.

She let her fingers run over the stack of unsolved cases. One day, when it was her turn to retire, she would have to let these go. But not today.

* * *

The thought had stuck with Vivian all day. Actually it had been there since the night before when Beth asked about her family, but her whole shift she'd thought intermittently about it. The rest of the time, Rich teased her for being so tired, and Vivian smiled, remembering the way she'd spent the night.

But still. After shift she skipped drinks with the gang to go home and hunt down her old photos. Vivian scoured the bookshelves in the living room and then her bedroom, but couldn't find the right one. So she went to the source.

"Mom, where'd you put the photo albums?"

Gail blinked and looked up from her laptop. "On the shelf downstairs."

"No, not ours… Uh. Where are the…" Vivian stopped and frowned. "The Green's."

Her mother looked at her for a moment. Gail was thoughtful and curious. "They're in the attic. Southeast corner. All of the… Everything we brought back is there. The albums are in the box labeled pictures, but I think they're mixed in with the framed ones."

Nodding, Vivian felt a little relieved that Gail didn't ask why. "Thanks."

With a return nod, Gail added, "Let me know if you can't find what you're looking for." And with that, the detective went back to her work.

Growing up with that much trust had always felt a little daunting. Like she knew her parents had a copy of the police report in the safe in their office. And Vivian knew that any time she asked, she'd be allowed to see it. They just … They trusted her. They believed in her as a person.

She headed to the attic and walked past the detritus of her childhood. Holly had kept all her sports uniforms (the ones with her name on them at least). Most of her clothes had gone to good will or the random grab bag of clothes the cops kept on hand for people. There were boxes, though, labeled with her name and her age.

Vivian smiled and opened the box from when she was eight and found the second grade section. She flipped through to find the class photo of her, Matty, and Olivia all hamming it up. There was an 'about me' story written in her childish scrawl, that said she was Vivian Green and she had two moms. There wasn't a lot of artwork in the early boxes. As she got older, she started to draw more, though that turned into technical diagrams.

It probably still drove Holly nuts that she was a cop even though she loved the mechanical engineering stuff too. Once Vivian caught wind of her mothers arguing about it. Holly had wanted to push Vivian into sticking with science and Gail said they should let her be who she was. Gail's point, which Vivian had not expected, was that her family forced her to be a cop, and while it worked out, she always wondered if she could have been anything else. Of course, Holly argued that maybe people really did need a bit of a push to see they could be more than just a cop.

That was when Vivian stopped eavesdropping and went out for a run. That kind of an argument was going to be messy and they were going to say the angry, mean, things they didn't really mean at all. But, having seen Aunt BitchTits make a snide blue collar remark at Gail, Vivian knew what came after 'just a cop.' It wasn't worth being around for.

By they time she'd gotten home that afternoon long ago, her mothers had been still grumbly but not arguing anymore.

Since she'd enrolled in the Police Academy, there had been no fights or arguments from anyone. Her job was expected and allowed and supported. Even by Holly. The fact that she had actually gotten a degree in mechanical engineering went a long way to peace in the house. And Vivian did love it. But she didn't want to spend her day behind a computer. That was what it boiled down to. She had to be active to feel like she was being useful.

Vivian made her way through the attic, past the memories of her childhood with Gail and Holly, and delved into the deeper part. There were five boxes. They'd taken three from her grandparents' house. The other two were what social services had collected from her parents' house. Those were the two boxes she was after.

Someone (probably Holly) had carefully stored everything in special kind of box, the sort that wouldn't cause paper to degrade or lose it's ink. Vivian didn't have a single memory of them. She couldn't remember the contents. She wasn't sure she'd ever known them. But she knew that the photos she wanted had to be there.

Running her hand over the top of the box, Vivian careful lifted it off and put it down, sitting cross-legged in front of the box. Atop everything was a piece of paper, folded, with the word 'Inventory' scrawled across it, in Gail's hand.

Of course.

She unfolded the paper and saw an inventory, as precise as the kind she was made to do when it was her turn to work in the evidence room. Vivian smiled and shook her head. Her mothers made a team. Holly would worry about contamination, Gail would worry about it being catalogued properly.

The paper listed a photo album as 'Childhood photos: 3(?) - 6' and another as 'Family: pre-birth - 3(?)' and then a list of framed photos. She hesitated and scanned the list of frames until she saw Kimmy's name.

Kimberly Anne Green.

Because contrary to what she'd told Beth, she did have a sister. Once.

Vivian swallowed and pulled the frame out of it's place to look at. It was a posed photo of Kimmy as a baby. Safe. She smiled and traced her fingers over the fat cheeks and brown curls. Curious, she looked on the list to see if there was one of her, but nothing was listed. Odd. And there were no group family photos of them all, not like this. Maybe this was her maternal grandparents' doing. She'd never known them, but they had known Kimmy.

Putting the frame back, she re-read the list for other photos of her sister. Someone had organized them into a packet, it turned out. Vivian pulled that out and smirked. Gail had written 'Misc. Photos of Kimberly' and nothing more in her distinctive 'work' handwriting (Gail had appalling handwriting). When she opened the packet, the photos were organized by date, mostly. Some were in the wrong order, but as Vivian careful fixed that, she was struck by something.

The only reason she knew they were out of order was because she _remembered_. The photo of tiny, grumpy, Vivian and not much bigger Kimmy wearing toques was from early spring, not fall, and it was when they'd gone to some small fair. Not in the city. It was just outside. The drive had been nauseating and long. Bumpy, because her father had driven erratically. Vivian had gotten car sick and complained. Her father had smacked the steering wheel and shouted at her.

Vivian sighed and flipped past that photo. She kept flipping, looking for something else. Something happier. Something... There. It was her sister at eight, almost nine, the end of the summer before she died, sitting on the back stairs with an ice cream cone. It was messy, all over her shirt, but Kimmy was laughing. She was on that edge of childhood, that moment where she was starting to look like herself. The roundness was just starting to fade away. Not chubby, and small just like Vivian had been at that age.

It was strange. Vivian was older than her sister. But Kimmy would have been twenty-nine now, had she lived. She would have been the age of Gail when she joined Major Crimes. She would have graduated college, maybe started a family, maybe moved away. Maybe Kimmy would have run away. Maybe they both would have.

Instead, Kimmy was nine. Forever. She was always the nine year old who shared her bedroom, who would creep into Vivian's bed to sleep with her when Viv had been little. She'd been the big sister who covered her little sister's ears when their parents had fought.

Vivian sighed and put the other photos back, keeping that one, happy, picture out. She carefully boxed everything back up, placing the inventory note on the top, and closed it, sliding the box back into place. Standing back up, Vivian looked around the attic and spotted a box labeled with the name 'William Peck.'

If anyone understood the ability to love and hate at the same time, it was Gail. Because she'd said, many times, she still loved the parts of her father that had been kind and caring. But Gail hated the man who'd cut her out, and Steve, and was unable to see past his name to love his own children. While Vivian was curious to know what was in that box, what memories Bill saved, it felt like an invasion of privacy to look.

True, her parents knew the secrets of her own past. They probably knew more than she did. But they had a right to look. Bill Peck, all the Pecks, they were her family and maybe she had a right to look, and maybe she had a sense of wonder to know, but more than that, she felt like she had a responsibility not to look without letting her mother know.

Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

As she came back downstairs, the office door was closed and Vivian could just make out the sound of Gail talking about a case. She couldn't ask Gail about a frame, so Vivian went to her room and scrounged about for an empty frame. Finding none, she brought the photo downstairs for a size reference and looked to see if Holly was there.

Her doctor mother was listening to music and dancing a little as she put dishes away. Vivian covered her mouth and smiled as Holly sang along to a disturbingly perky pop song. Off key. Badly. "Oh my god, Mom," she said, laughing.

"Jesus!" Holly startled and dropped a plate, which bounced and skittered across the floor. "The hell! Do you get sneaky creeper lessons at the academy?" Holly pressed a hand to her chest.

Vivian laughed more and picked up the plate. "You are so oblivious when you're concentrating."

"Screw you." But Holly was smiling and blushing. "Thank you," she added, taking the plate and washing it by hand. "What's that?" Holly pointed at Vivian's other hand.

She looked at the photo. "Do we have a frame this size?" It wasn't an answer, she knew that.

Holly looked thoughtful. "Probably in the attic. Did you ask Gail?"

"The office is closed."

Holly made an 'ah' sound. "Sometimes I wonder how we raised such a considerate kid." She tossed her towel onto the counter. "Regular photo. Regular photo. I really can't remember."

Nodding, Vivian realized she'd have to wait. "I'll put it in a book for now. I don't want it to get bent."

That caught Holly's attention. "Huh." Her mother walked over to the bookshelf and picked up a framed photo of herself, Lisa, and Rachel back in college. "Here." She popped the back and took out her photo.

Vivian hesitated. "I ... Um I want it put it in my room, Mom."

"That's fine. I think it's alright if three drunk girls in Florida goes into a scrapbook." Holly looked at it. "Most of college should go in a scrapbook. That was a million years ago." Holly looked fondly at the photo.

Taking the frame, Vivian slipped her photo in and stared at it. "Is this about the charity calendar you did, Miss May?"

Her mother's eyes bugged out. "How the..."

Vivian grinned, impishly. "It's in the office, Mom. I was going to run into it one day. Maybe innocently when I'm looking for your college yearbook? Or that degree you asked me to hang for you? You know the one you had in the green box?" Holly's face paled and then flushed. "After spending a minute trying to figure out why you had porn in there, I saw your name on the back."

Covering her face, Holly groaned. "This must be how Gail felt when you found the vibrator."

She patted her mother's shoulder. "Thanks for the frame."

Truth told, Vivian felt a little bad distracting her mother like that to throw her off the trail of what the photo was, but at the same time she wanted just this moment of privacy. Eventually her mothers would notice the frame on her desk. Vivian put it beside the one of her mothers and her at graduation.

She lay down on her bed and looked at the photos. Besides the framed ones, she had her digital frame that rotated through photos of her family and friends. There was even one of Matty and Tim Gunn. But that night she looked at the old print photo of Kimmy and her ice cream.

That night she thought about being a little sister and being an only child.

* * *

It had been a very long time since Gail had seen the photos that were spread on the bed. "Wow. Holly, I'm totally gay." She reached to pick up her favorite from the shoot, a picture of Holly, in the lab coat and her matching bra and pantie set, laughing as she held up a broken high heeled shoe.

There was something about the photo that she loved more than the affected sultriness. It was a moment of Holly, who laughed in awkward moments, and her raw beauty. Gail sighed softly. The laughter and the smile. That's why she loved it. Of course she reveled in Holly's body, but the smile. That make her heart sing.

"I cannot believe that's your favorite," said Holly, putting another stack of photos on the bed.

"I can see you naked whenever I want." Gail collected the soft-core porn photos. "But that smile? That laugh? I can hear it when I see this photo." She smiled. "Why are all your college photos out?"

"Your daughter wanted a frame, so I gave her the one from Florida."

Gail frowned. A frame. And she'd been asking about photos of the Greens earlier. Well if Vivian hadn't told Holly, Gail would keep that secret for now. "So you decided it was time to put drunk college Holly away?"

Her wife blushed. "Well. It was a long time ago."

Putting down the photos, Gail took Holly's hands and tugged her into a hug. "I think you're more beautiful than slutty drunk Holly."

That made Holly laugh, and she pressed her face into Gail's shoulder. "Slutty drunk Holly would have been all over you, you know."

Humming, Gail swayed a little, holding Holly close. "Stupid goth Gail would have been too scared and regretted it all her days." She nearly had avoided Holly after their coat room kiss. That had set so many weird thoughts in motion, including embarrassing dreams, that Gail's world had never been the same. And she didn't want it any other way.

Holly sighed and squeezed Gail tightly. "I feel old."

"You are. So am I." She stroked Holly's hair.

"Your idea of sympathy is pretty piss poor," remarked Holly, dryly.

Gail smiled. "It's better than the alternative." Her wife grunted an agreement. "Want cool science news?"

"Pluto's a planet again?" Holly sounded sad and wistful.

Laughing, Gail let go so she could kiss Holly's nose. "God, I love you, you great big nerd."

Holly wrinkled her nose up. "Damn. I hate that it's not a planet."

"I know, baby." Gail kissed her again. Holly had been despondent the night they'd confirmed the fact that Pluto was a planetoid.

They'd only been friends then, in that strange time after the chemical burn and before Holly's date at the Penny. She'd come over to watch a movie only to find a sobbing Holly at the door. Gail had never done well with crying girls, but there was something about Holly that prompted her to steer the doctor inside and let her wail about how it was really never going to be a planet again.

It was hilarious and tragic at the same time.

It may have been the exact moment she'd fallen in love.

"Okay," said Holly with a deep sigh. "What science coolness do you have?"

"We ID'd the blood sample."

Holly startled and leaned back. "Anton Hill's kid?"

"His daughter. Jackie Reynolds."

Holly's eyes widened. "The granddaughter?" With a smile, Gail nodded. "But... Her cousin might have killed her father..." Again, Gail nodded. "Give me your theory, Peck, I've _got_ to hear this one!"

Letting go, Gail sat on the edge of their bed. "One. Bobby Blue has been trying to rebuild the gang in his father's name. Two. Blue got his cousins Spikes and Red in on it, knowing they too had fathers and grandfathers who were ousted back when the young guns tried to take over, back when I was a Uni." She held up three fingers. "Three. Blue arranged for the Fentanyl laced pot as a way for Spikes to slowly ramp up Anton Hill's chance of a heart attack. Four. Blue had no idea Red was Hill's daughter. Five. Red had been playing them all along, trying to take over for Anton Hill."

Her wife exhaled loudly. "Fentanyl could do that. In high doses, it induces heart attacks."

"See, I listen to you." Gail grinned and Holly gently shoved her head. "Where was I?"

"Australia," said Holly, flatly.

"Six! Guess who's been in charge of the money to get the guns?"

Holly's eyes were bright. "Red. Was she getting guns for both gangs?"

"Even better. She was using the money from the Rivers gang to fund Hill's. They've been pretty low key ever since Swarek started putting heat on 'em." Once Sam had moved to TwentySeven, they'd let him pressure Hill as much as he wanted. Jarvis and Oliver had always been a little more circumspect, but Gail had to admit that Sam had forced them to shut down a lot of their activities.

In a way, their current predicament, a headless chicken, was Sam's fault.

"How the hell did no one catch her?"

"It took a forensic accountant," Gail said smugly. That had been her idea. "We couldn't find anything on the Rivers, but once I had Red pegged as a double dealer, ba-boom, Hill's folks light up like goddamn Christmas. Holly Stewart, your wife is a bad ass."

And Holly giggled. "You're irreplaceable, unredeemable, and unique, Gail." She looped her arms around Gail's neck and shoulders to draw her into a kiss.

There was a knock on their doorframe. Vivian's voice, amused, cut in. "Hey, keep sucking face. I'm heading out."

Gail sighed against Holly's lips. "Have fun with Beth," she told her daughter.

"Have fun with Mom," said Vivian right back, sassy as ever, and she thudded down the stairs.

Gail closed her eyes and leaned against Holly, listening to Vivian's boots on the hardwood. Then the door to the garage. Then the garage door. Then the engine... The garage again. "She was so quiet," said Gail softly.

"She was tiny." Holly shared the same, soft, tone. "Scared. Did not like you having a gun." The arms around her shoulders tightened. "And then she grew up."

"I was mostly thinking she didn't start thudding down the stairs until we moved here."

Holly laughed softly and turned her head to kiss Gail again. "She really likes making noise," said the doctor. "I wonder ..." Holly trailed off and frowned.

Yeah. Had Viv's birth parents made her be quiet? Always they had fear and thoughts about a time they'd never know the truth of. "She's had a weird year."

"And now she has a girlfriend. Kind of." Holly kissed her again and let go. "Did you know she'd seen this calendar?" Picking up her charity calendar, Holly shook it.

Gail blinked. "I did not. How did ... Oh it was in the box, wasn't it?"

Her wife nodded and tossed the calendar into a new box on the bed. "These are going in my closet."

"Oh please!" Gail laughed. "Just put them in the office and label 'em as your college years. She won't snoop." She hopped onto the bed and scooped up the photos from the calendar shoot. "Okay. I have a suggestion. Collage of college."

Holly squinted. "Get all the great pics of me and BitchTits and make a giant photo with them to remember my wayward youth?"

"Something like that." She lay back on the bed and flipped through the other photos. "Damn. You know, if I'd seen this porn growing up, I'd have flipped for women way sooner."

Laughing, Holly collected her other photos and put them in the box. "Gail, they're not even soft-core porn. They're pin-ups."

"I'll have you know, I'm a police officer. I had to study porn."

And Holly laughed more. "You studied porn?"

Gail looked up. "Of course I did. How else do you think we know it when we see it?"

Holly stood there looking thoughtful. "Okay, I'll give you that one. So you studied porn and, to your experienced and practiced eye, is that porn?"

She looked at the photos again. "Well. A lot of it depends on intent. Did you intend for it to be titillating, Dr. Stewart? Was your goal to arouse?"

"Is that a legal definition?"

"If they were an accident, or a happy circumstance, they're just photos. But." Gail sighed and flipped to another photo. In this one, Holly was leaning forward with her glasses low on her nose, her cleavage peeking over the microscope, the lab coat pushed up over one hip, showing off lace panties that Holly rarely wore, even back when they'd been dating. It certainly aroused her. "This looks like porn. Intent, result."

The bed dipped and Holly sat on Gail's upper legs. "Result, huh?" Gail looked over the top of the photos at her wife. "But was it my desired result?"

"You want to try and argue the intention here wasn't to turn people on?"

Holly smiled. "Technically it was to make money."

"Uh huh. For money." Gail smirked and flipped to yet another photo. "May I present evidence for my case? Exhibit B." She flashed the photo of Holly adjusting her breasts. "An outtake, she claims."

"I wasn't compensated monetarily for my time," said Holly, and she pushed the photo down with one finger. "Are you going to look at those all night?"

"Well they're really hot, Holly. I mean, you're sexy as hell."

"I could offer an alternative." As Gail looked up to ask what that might be, the words fell out of her brain. Holly was unbuttoning her shirt. Slowly.

Her mouth went dry. Other parts went decidedly not dry. "Hello," said Gail. She looked at the reveal of Holly's bra (more practical and utilitarian than her picture) and compared it to the photo. Okay. Fine. She compared the breasts themselves.

Holly smiled and shrugged her shirt off. She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Gail smiled back and put the photos on her nightstand. Reality was so much better than the photos. It wasn't just because she could touch Holly either. She loved how amazing young Holly looked. The perkiness, the shapeliness of her in her twenties and thirties (and forties) was different from the fifties and soon to be sixties. But God. Holly was totally her thing.

Reaching up, Gail tugged Holly by her waist, pulling her down. The result of Holly with her shirt off was better than photos of Holly with her shirt off. Her skin was so much more alive and vibrant than you could capture in a photo. And the fact that detective, crime solving, Gail Peck turned Holly on was one of the best benefits of that gold badge.

A few hours later, Holly was sound asleep and Gail was wired. Not wanting to wake up her wife, Gail curled up with her laptop on the office couch and went over the case notes. She wrote up an idea for Chloe to get her CIs to make Red nervous, and Steve to get his to make the Hills suspect. There were a lot of other smaller cases going on as well. Not all needed her supervision, but she was still expected to know the details on all of them.

The sound of the garage door startled her out of the deep dive into a case about a bribe. A few moments later, a much quieter Vivian came up the stairs. There was a creak of a door and then a shoeless daughter came into the office. "Hey, Mom. Everything okay?"

Gail smiled. "You are a very strange and wonderful child, Viv."

Her daughter screwed up her face. "Mom's dead asleep and you're up working."

And Vivian knew that could mean a few things, one of which being Gail had a nightmare. And if it was that, Vivian often knew, and always would stay up with her. Because that was the kind of child they'd raised. "Nah, I'm just a little wired." Gail closed her laptop. "How was the date?"

Vivian shrugged. "I thought it was going okay." She leaned in the doorway, reminding Gail of her brother and how he would frame a door. Or maybe that was how she looked, and Vivian was mimicking her.

"Okay doesn't sound great."

"I don't think it is. She gave me a look when I left."

Gail glanced at the wall clock. It was two. Then she studied her daughter. "Not spending the night, huh?" Morose, Vivian shook her head. Whatever was going on up in her kid's brain, the girl didn't want to talk about it yet. So Gail smiled and made the offer she'd always made to her child, from the time she'd been six and silent. "Well. If you can't sleep, we can play some Mario Kart."

A slow smile crossed Vivian's face. Relief. It was a familiar moment for them both, clearly. "I call Bowser," she said, turning to go back downstairs.

Some things didn't always need to change.

* * *

Ugh.

That was not a great way to start her shift. She'd only had a few hours of sleep anyway, having played Mario Kart with her mother for an hour after getting home. Then she got up and went running with her other mother. Probably not the best choices.

"What's wrong?" Lara glanced over as Vivian tapped on her phone.

"I just got dumped."

The other cop startled. "In a text? Are you sure?"

Vivian nodded. "Pretty sure 'I think we should see other people' is code for 'I'm not that into you.'" She had replied, just asking if Beth wanted to talk about it. The next reply of 'Not really' was fast enough that Vivian was certain she was, once again, single. Ugh was the only possible reaction.

"Seriously? She said that?"

"Yep," said Vivian, and she popped the P loudly like Gail did and like Holly still hated. "Fuck it, I'm ignoring my phone today." Vivian turned the sound off and shoved it in her thigh pocket.

Lara shook her head. "Jesus. I thought maybe dating women would be easier since, you know, you're both women."

Vivian looked out the window of the car. "I don't have a comparison. I went on one date with a boy when I was twelve." Absently, she wondered how he was.

"How'd that work out?"

With a shrug, Vivian pointed out the obvious. "Lesbian."

Her partner laughed. "Fair enough. I guess people are people."

"You sure you're a cop?" Vivian grinned as Lara laughed again. She liked working with Lara. Of all the rookies, she felt like Lara could be a really good friend. Of course she adored Christian, but they were friends of long circumstance and coincidence. In a weird way, they had too much in common.

She did have another good friend. Matty. It was impossible to save someone from a beating and not be his friend forever. But Matty was in New York City, studying at Parson's School for a Design, and dating an opera singer. His dream was to be a costume designer for the opera. His boyfriend, whom Vivian had met over video chat a few times, was totally smitten with Matty, and kept agitating that they should come visit. They talked a lot, but …

It wasn't the same, having one best friend in New York and happily dating, and the other in San Diego. Also happily dating and really not her best friend at all anymore. Apparently Olivia's mother didn't even know, which was all the more galling. Vivian had tried hinting that Olivia was seeing someone and Noelle had just looked confused. A secret boyfriend whom Olivia was serious about, and yet not someone she wanted to tell her parents about.

"People are confusing," she said to Lara.

The other cop nodded. "Sure as hell they are." They rode in silence for a few blocks. "What's it like having parents who are married forever?"

Vivian blinked. "Is that really weird?"

"Yeah. Jenny's parents divorced when she was a kid. Rich's were never married. Christian said his weren't. My mom is my step-mom."

"You _do_ know I was adopted, right?"

"Yeah, and your moms have been married for like a million years."

Okay. That was true. "Twenty." She leaned back and studied the road. "They'll be twenty years this spring."

Lara looked surprised. "No shit? That's amazing."

"I guess it is." Vivian pointed at the light. "Take the next left. There's construction."

"Huzzah for another day sitting and watching an empty building all day." Lara took the turn and then the next and then they parked across the street from the empty warehouse.

"Huzzah," said Vivian. She picked up the car radio. "Dispatch, 1513. On site at warehouse on Kent. Nothing to report." Dropping the radio, she slouched in the seat. "We can't even keep the heat on."

The both hunched into their coats and sighed. "This is so boring. Why did I think being a cop would be cool?"

Vivian grinned. "You watched TV." She blew on her hands and pulled her gloves on. "Mindless procedure is the hallmark of our career."

Lara sighed. "We're on surveillance."

Holding up a finger, Vivian pointed out the obvious. "Of an empty building that isn't even a real target. It's just a satellite location, which means it doesn't matter."

The other cop scowled. "You're ruining my dreams that this will be the real meet point. I mean, Three Rivers owns the building, right?"

"They own a bunch of buildings. We're rookies. We're here to put the pressure on while ETF and the Ds and the experienced cops kick in the real doors in a couple days."

"You sound jealous," said Lara, knowingly.

In truth, Vivian was. She really liked the work that ETF and Sue Tran did. "Gotta walk before we can run, Volk."

"Avoiding the subject."

"Yeah? You taking the courses to be a D now that we're cut loose?"

Lara smirked at Vivian. "You are way too sharp."

"I can smell it on you. Cheap suits. Take out food."

"Oh! And what about you?"

Vivian smiled. "You tell me."

That quieted the other woman for a while. "I think you're a secret adrenaline junkie. And you're going to run into buildings because they make more sense than people. Especially girls who dump you by text."

* * *

The first new frame in the bedroom was hilarious and perfect. It was one of the trite frames that held multiple pictures, and Gail had filled it with some of Holly's favorite photos from college. It was a college collage. Just like she'd joked she was going to do. It was beautiful and a wonderful reminder of what she'd been.

But Gail had also put up a collection of photos of herself. Backpacking in Europe, a glamour shot from something or another, and a few goofing around with her friends from Fifteen. It was less college style than Holly's, but Gail hadn't come out of her shell until she was a little older.

Holly ran her fingers over the pictures, hanging now above their dressers, and smiled. Sometimes people asked if Gail was romantic and did things like surprise her with flowers or a special cooked meal. Sometimes Gail did. She loved cooking. But that wasn't romantic to Holly at all. No, romantic wasn't going up to the cabin for a long weekend of enjoying each other and quiet, either.

Romantic was Gail taking an hour or two out of her hectic day, planning a massive gang related op, to make something special for Holly. Romantic was Gail doing this when she was distracted and still thought about Holly.

"You are such a cheese puff, Gail." Holly shook her head, smiling, and turned to strip the sheets off the bed. The towels went into her pile as well, and then she went for the guest room. It was used often enough to justify keeping it as a bedroom. But that meant they had to wash the unused linens once in a while. Holly tossed those sheets and towels into the pile in the hallway and then went into Vivian's room.

They used to always do laundry on Saturdays, but with Vivian's schedule it was getting harder to dedicate a day to clean as a family. Vivian's room showed that more than any other place in the house. The bed was unmade, the desk a mess of whatever she was working on for fun, and her bathroom ... Well.

Holly sighed and folded the quilt, a present from Lily, putting it in the window seat, before stripping the bed, collecting the towels, and tossing all of that into the hallway. She wasn't about to clean her daughter's room. The last thing she wanted was to find her kid's porn or worse. But she was going to leave a note. She looked for a pen and paper and found, instead, a familiar photo frame with an unfamiliar photo of a girl.

It was Vivian, except not Vivian. The face was different. Wider. Softer cheekbones. Curlier hair. Darker skin. Where Vivian had a mere suggestion of First People in her genetics, this girl had a clear certainty. But she looked incredibly like Vivian at about eight years old. The girl was sitting on a step Holly didn't recognized, eating an ice cream cone, smiling. Happy.

The realization that it was Kimberly, Vivian's sister, in the photo hit hard.

Holly had to sit down.

When did that happen? When had this photo appeared? Of course. This was why Vivian had wanted the frame the other day. "Honey," she said softly and picked up the photo.

Vivian had slogged through a pretty tough year. Had she remembered more and not told them? Holly could only remember a few times that Vivian had asked about her old photos or asked to look at them. She'd always seemed so firmly dedicated to shoving her old life away. But here it was on display.

Wiping her eyes, Holly put the frame back. There was nothing she could say about this. She couldn't tell Vivian she'd seen the photo. She didn't know if she should tell Gail. They tried to respect Vivian's privacy like she was anyone else and not someone they worried about and wanted to make life better for.

Something was going on with their daughter. Something was changing, for better or for worse. Beyond just growing up and becoming independent, Vivian was looking at the world different and thinking differently. Slowly, she was stepping away from them and carving out life the way she wanted to live it. Things were going to be different in the end, and Holly just couldn't tell where it would end.

She couldn't answer that right now. All Holly could do was start a load of laundry for her two hard working cops, knowing they'd do the same for her when her cases consumed her.

That's what family did. The little things.

* * *

"Dispatch, 1513 on location. Trinidad warehouse. Nothing to report." Rich grumbled as he put the radio back on the hook. "We're not going to be involved in the takedown at all."

Wearily, Vivian repeated the same thing she'd told everyone. "We're rookies, Rich. We're not supposed to be involved in shit like that."

"We haven't even gotten to do undercover work for real!"

That was true. "You really want to prove you can do UC by dressing up like a rent boy?" Rich startled and stared at Vivian. "What? You didn't know that's first? Since no one knows us, we'll get sent out to places and try and catch people. It's a first-run, make sure we can do well outside our comfort zone." She yawned and stretched in the car. After that came being dropped off in the middle of nowhere and making it back with their wits and as much illegal crap as possible. Gail still hated that she hadn't been able to do that.

"Shit. Prostitutes?"

Vivian smiled. "You thought there was something glamorous in UC? After this shit for a week?" She gestured at the boring warehouse in front of them. "We're watching an empty warehouse."

Rich scowled and sulked in his seat like a child. "It doesn't make sense."

"Which part? Hookers or empty buildings?"

Gesturing with both hands at the building, Rich said, "This! Anyone could do it! We're highly trained police officers."

Vivian couldn't stifle her laugh. "No we're not. We're _rookies_ , Rich! We're the 'anyone' of Fifteen. We're the monkeys who do the shitty scut work."

He folded his arms and scowled. "It sucks. I don't like it. They put me in charge of this shit."

That was true. Andy had put Rich in charge of the patrol. His job was to determine when they went on a drive around, when they checked various things, and so on. It wasn't a real 'in charge' deal, they all knew that, but it made him feel better. "You got an idea?"

He didn't answer. Right. Vivian leaned forward and watched the building. Nothing was going on. Nothing was ever going on. Eventually Rich's watch beeped. "Drive around. Go that way," he said and pointed to his right.

"Sure." She started the car and made a slow patrol before returning to their spot. Secluded. A good vantage point. They spent the next three hours in silence. They made the same patrol three times. That was when they both saw something odd.

"Is that 1504?" Rich leaned forward as he asked.

Vivian was staring right at it. "Yeah... It has the dent where C spun out." That had been last week, and was why he was stuck on desk duty. "I can pull in there, it's got enough room for both."

Nodding, Rich sighed. "Fuck, are we at the wrong building?"

"Dispatch would've said," she said, though she was uncertain. Dispatch should have already told them at least that there was someone else around.

Both Lara and Jenny in 1504 were equally confused. "No one said you'd be here too. That's really weird." Jenny reached for the radio in her car.

"Hang on," said Rich. "What if this is a test? McNally's new as the Staff, right? She could be feeling us out. See how we follow directions. How we think independently. Do we make the right decisions?" He pivoted and looked at Vivian. "They do shit like that, right?"

She hesitated. Gail would. Gail would give her enough rope. She always had been the kind of parent who let Vivian find her strengths, make mistakes, learn from them. Everyone was looking at the legacy Peck. "Yes," Vivian said slowly. "They do. Sometimes."

Rich looked excited and that made Jenny and Lara grin. "So this? This is our test. It's gotta be!"

Vivian frowned. "I ... I don't know, Rich."

"Hey, hey, they put me in charge of buildings, right?" When she nodded, he went on. "They didn't do that before."

That was also true. "Okay. Okay, just for a second let's say you're right, Hanford. What do they want us to do? Watch and not trip over our own feet?"

"Watch and be invisible and not trip over our feet." Rich looked around and then darted into their cruiser, pulling up a map. "Okay, I got an idea. Peck, c'mere." He showed her the map and explained his idea for how to patrol without crossing paths or looking too obvious. It was, Vivian had to admit, not stupid. Every second sweep, they'd meet back up here and talk. Keep it off the radios.

And that was how they did it.

They did two sweeps, met up, took turns for lunch, and then two more. They had two more sweeps before shift was over. Two more before freedom. Two more before she just fucking asked Gail if Andy was playing some stupid game.

Which was when they saw someone pull up to the building.

Vivian continued her drive by, casual as if nothing was odd at all. "Don't look," she told Rich. "Look in your side mirror."

Without moving her head, she let her eyes flick left and then up. She could see him clearly in her mirror. Bobby Blue Zanaro Jr. "Is that..."

"Yep. I'm going to lose him when I turn. Can you see him?"

"He went in the building."

Crap. "Okay. We'll be able to see him from our spot. If he goes before then, though, we might miss it."

"Gotta chance it, Peck."

"I'm just saying. I don't like the odds." But she kept the car going as normal, around the block, down, turn, slow for the stop. Check the street... Steal a glance at the parking lot. He was still there. The next turn took the car out of sight for five minutes. Five long minutes. Rich's plan didn't have full coverage of the lot. It was better than one car alone. But.

She pulled into their shared surveillance spot, trusting Jenny was smart enough to do the same.

"Gone." Rich got out of the car as soon as they stopped. "He was still inside when we lost sight. I had maybe ten, thirty more seconds than you did."

Vivian got out of the car and leaned on it. "Four minutes, thirty seconds unaccounted for."

"You sound like a D."

She glanced at him. "I listen." She turned her full attention to the where the car was. The ground was damp from the recent weird thaw they'd had. Much of the snow had melted away. You could hear gravel underfoot. What would that mean? Vivian was still thinking about it when 1504 pulled in.

Rich pounced. "Did you see when he left?"

"Yeah," said Lara, getting out. "When did he go in?" Vivian told her the time. "Okay. He was in for three minutes and maybe twenty seconds? What the hell can you do in three minutes?"

You could do a lot. Rob a bank. Jack a car. Kill someone. Vivian frowned.

Rich, on the other hand, grinned. "Let's find out."

She stated at him. "Are you insane? We call this shit in!"

"Hey. I'm in charge, right?" Rich puffed up his chest and Vivian gagged. But he was. "That was that Blue guy, alone. He went in, he did something, he left. We should check it out."

Vivian hesitated and then frowned more. "We should call it in. We're supposed to be watching, not haring off."

"Do you always do what you're told?"

She frowned more but locked the cruiser and put her keys safely in her pocket. "Fine. But this goes ass end up, you're in charge," she told Rich.

"That's my girl!" He clapped her shoulder. "Volk, Aronson. You guys go around the side. Peck and I will take the door Blue went through."

This felt like a phenomenally bad idea. She checked her gun and pulled out her flashlight. They quietly walked to the door and Rich tried it. Locked. He backed up, as if to kick, and Vivian stayed his hand. "Honestly, you might as well set up a bat signal, idiot."

"You have a better idea?"

Tucking her flashlight under her arm, Vivian pulled out her keys. She picked the bumper that looked closest and slid it in. Calmly she wiggled it and then tapped with the butt of her flashlight. Another wiggle, another tap and then the lock clicked. Smiling, she turned the key and opened the door. "Technology, Hanford."

Rich looked impressed. "That was seriously cool."

"You should see what I can do with an RC car." She tucked the keys away and let Rich go in first. The room was empty but they both drew their guns and carefully swept the area. "Clear." Except for the wood and metal crates. Which didn't make sense. It was supposed to be an empty warehouse.

"Clear," confirmed Rich. The other door opened and they swiveled, but it was Lara and Jenny.

"Door was locked," said Jenny, holding up her picks. "Clear over here too." They all holstered their guns. "I thought this was supposed to be unused."

Rich walked around the boxes. "This is weird." He reached for a box and then hesitated. "What if it's a bomb?"

Vivian tilted her head and squatted by the box. Bomb in a wood box, set to go off when the lid was opened. "He wasn't here long enough to set that up. Takes a couple hours to get it right. And quick and dirty would show signs on the lid." She carefully studied the lid of two boxes. "The metal ones are possible. But those are the size of ammo cases." Feeling the confidence that came with knowledge and experience, Vivian carefully took the lid off.

They all stared. "Holy fuck."

"Mother of god," whispered Lara. "Those are not legal."

Racks and racks of semi-automatic and fully automatic weapons. Vivian looked at the ammo boxes. "Crap on a cracker," she said. They opened another crate and found the same. Slightly different but the same. Jesus. "Uh, this we should call in."

"Ya think?" Rich reached for his radio when they all heard a car pull up on the gravel.

"Shit." Jenny pulled the lid back in place. "Can we make the door?"

"Unlikely," said Vivian, running the calculation in her head. "They'd see us getting outside. Did you lock the door?"

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah." Vivian looked around, fighting to stay calm. Hide. They had to hide.

Lara was moving to the back. "Boiler room," she said, her voice a low hiss. They scrambled and squeezed in behind the body of a broken ... something. Vivian didn't recognize it. "If it's like last time, it'll be a minute, maybe two."

"Unless he came back 'cause he saw something the first time," Jenny said. She sounded scared. "Jesus. Did we just stumble on to a gang war?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," whispered Rich. "I can't hear them."

They all fell silent, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

"What the hell is all this?" A man was shouting. "Jackie, this is _our_ shipment. This is _our_ gear. What the hell is it doing in a fucking Hill house?" Ours. That made him Blue? Probably.

"You don't know a god damned thing, Bobby." A woman. Angry. "I told you. I'm playing the numbers. That's why you tapped me. I know numbers." That meant she was Jackie 'Red' Reynolds for sure.

A third voice, a woman, cut in. "I told you the guns were a bad idea. We shoulda kept to the drugs."

"Because you know drugs!" Jackie again. "God, Veronica, you are such a tool. Thinking you're all awesome and special 'cause you're a fucking doctor! Jesus, what the fuck kind of nickname is Spikes anyway?"

That sounded like a long standing argument. And it escalated. Craning her neck, Vivian tried to get a good view of them. "Shit," she hissed, watching the guns come out.

Blue had his aimed at Red. "Why did you do it, Jackie? Huh? Ten years I've been planning this shit. Why did you pick them? We're blood."

Jackie's gun was aimed at Blue, as were everyone's from the Hill group. "So are they."

Veronica had no gun. She was staring at Jackie's face intently. "Anton..."

The gun on Jackie's hand wavered. It swung to Veronica and then back again. "Yes."

"Wanna explain that one, Spikes?" Blue shifted his stance. Centering. He was going to kill his cousin.

"You know the answer, Bobby," Veronica said softly. "You looked Anton Hill right in the eyes."

His head snapped to Veronica and then Jackie. Then he stared hard. "You didn't want us to kill him. You let us."

"No. I couldn't stop you, there's a difference, Bobby." She shifted her grip. "He knew, you know. He knew who killed him."

"You told him." Veronica wasn't shocked. She was sad. "Jackie. Why didn't you tell me? I would have..." She trailed off.

"You wouldn't. You couldn't." Jackie shook her head. "Same reason I didn't." Both women looked at Bobby.

Rich tugged her arm and mouthed 'can you hear them?' Vivian nodded and mouthed 'blackmail' back at him. As she turned back, Vivian saw Veronica walk over and stand beside Jackie.

"Bobby, I'm sorry," said Veronica, regretfully. "I never wanted to be a killer." She looked at Jackie. "Blood is thicker than water, Bobby."

"Well. That's just you then, Ronnie." And Bobby Blue's hand twitched and he shot his cousin, Veronica 'Spikes' Van Lowe, in the knee.

All hell broke loose. Both sides screamed at each other. Vivian swore and hunched as small as she could get, hating every inch of her six-one height just then. Behind her, Jenny spoke. "I'm calling this in."

"Wait," said Rich. "I'm in charge!"

Jenny snapped, "Well you're not doing your damn job, Rich!" She thumbed her radio. "4749, 10-33, shots fired. I repeat shots fired."

Vivian closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. They had a whole damn police force at their backs. All they had to do was wait. So what could they do now? They weren't taking fire yet, which meant the gangs were still shooting at each other and not them. Which meant… "Don't shoot back," she said quietly to the others.

"Are you actually insane?" Rich's face was pale.

"Yeah, I also don't want them to realize we're here." Vivian glanced around. "You get that, right? They're not shooting at _us_."

Jenny hissed. "You're saying we just watch them shoot the hell out of each other and do nothing? We're _cops_. We're supposed to stop that!"

"Jenny, there are at least twenty of them and four of us. They have automatic weapons. We have 23s. You called it in. Wait for orders." She turned and looked through a small space, trying to get a better view. "Because if they see us, we're dead."

* * *

There were perks to being the boss. There were perks to the future. Gail had her computer setup to alert her if anything triggered her complicated set of rules of whatever she was monitoring at the time, leaving her free to think while trusting the computer to ping her when needed.

Today, setup day, was a day she expected to be quiet. The empty warehouses were all being publicly and visibly monitored, flushing out any gang members. Increasing the watch on more places, the pressure on the Rivers was amped up. They'd all be driven to the Upper Don river, their currently HQ, and like a pincer the cops would descend and take them apart.

It was Steve's plan and it was a great one. He'd taken the news that Jackie 'Red' was double dealing surprisingly well. Better than Gail had in a lot of ways. Immediately Steve switched up his plans and got Chloe's UC ops start to shift the priority within a day. They dropped the whole 'cousins revenge' angle, even though they knew that Anton Hill had been the one who suggested the 'young guns' of Three Rivers oust all their older members. Instead they started to feel information, dropping hints that they knew Red was working with the Hills. They suggested to Blue and Spikes' crews that, maybe someone was a spy. Hadn't there been leaked information?

The plan was working perfectly so far. The Rivers Clan tightened up and Blue and Spikes were having 'secret meetings' all the time. Red was starting to notice, and in turn the Hill Gang was tightening ranks.

And the joke was on all of them because the cops had the gun warehouse in their sights.

Neither gang kept the guns at their main locations. Neither were known as gun gangs, as it were, so they had them in warehouses that Red had been in charge of. And Red had been shuffling the weapons back and forth to the point that probably only she really knew what was where. It looked like the Hills had more guns but the Rivers had more bullets.

It was really mind boggling, the levels and layers everyone was up to. Gail had to keep projecting the breakdown onto her wall to keep it straight, which John found hilarious. She was known for being able to keep the tangled motives and plans of criminals clear in her mind, and here Gail was a little swamped. Maybe it was old age. Maybe she was slowing down. Gail didn't think so.

No. She knew what she as doing and how to do it well. She had the plan to gate crash the Rivers/Hill little meeting tomorrow. The meeting where she expected everyone to break out into full blown warfare. And while Sue Tran's ETF nut jobs busted in on the meeting of heavily armed gangs, Fifteen would be picking up the Rivers gun warehouse and TwentySeven (led by Swarek) would grab the one for the Hills.

Of course it wasn't perfect, but, all of it was planned and crafted well. Gail had the utmost confidence in the plan. And none of it was supposed to be happening today. Tomorrow they were going to collect the idiots, go directly to Go, collect $200, and be fucking heroes for the city who never knew it was in danger all along. It was a plan that made her love her job.

So why was her computer pinging her all of the sudden? Why was Upper Don lighting up like a Christmas tree? Why was a kid's voice shouting at Dispatch about…

Gail stared at the radio app on her computer. That was Aronson's voice. Aronson was in Vivian's rookie class, the amusing and kinda slutty one who was also a legacy cop, but didn't tell anyone because her dad had done time for corruption. Jenny Aronson. She'd changed her full name at ten. Or had it changed. Gail remembered her entire jacket in one go.

"What the _hell_?" She surged to her feet and kicked her door open. "John! Where the _hell_ are the rookies?"

Her sergeant and work husband looked startled. "They're at the warehouse on the Lower Don. What—" John stopped and tapped at his keyboard. "What the hell!? Where the — That's not right!"

"Some one screwed up big time, John. Those _kids_ are at the hotspot! Shots fired. We've got to go _now_. Get Steve on the line. Go!" Gail turned back without waiting to see if John was in motion — he was, she knew it. She grabbed her gear, suiting up as fast as she could. The rote and rhythm of kitting up calmed her a little. It let her push the panic that her kid was there out of her head.

But then she picked up her vest and she stopped. Gail ran her hand over the front of her vest. This was her new vest, the new liner. They had all gotten new vests that year. When Vivian had gotten hers, her very own with her name stitched on it, she'd brought it to Gail's office and asked her to write something.

It was an idea Gail had gotten from Nick. He'd learned it from the military, writing weird messages. Like she'd seen his once, back when it said "Whatever happens, it was worth it" written down. He'd written that about Andy. The day he wrote that, she dumped him for Sam. And yet he lived with her now in the end. It was, he told Gail recently, all worth it. Everything.

In many ways, Gail had to agree that everything had been worth it. But for her daughter, who had written "Everything good I learned from my Moms" in her's, Gail knew what she had to say. It was four words. Four words that were incredibly Peck, but appropriate none the less. "Know who you are." That was it. Holly hadn't told Gail what she'd written, but Vivian showed her. "Think." That was very Holly.

This new vest of Gail's, though. She'd only worn it a few times, and she'd yet to have her family write in it. The drive to carry a piece of Holly's words around with her all the time seemed less important. Holly was indelibly a part of her now. Everything she was today was touched by Holly, and she didn't feel like a talisman was necessary.

Which meant Gail hadn't written anything either. And right now, for some reason, that felt horribly dangerous. Gail pulled the vest back off and rattled through her drawers. She knew she still had that pen in there somewhere from when Vivian had come in and, when she found it, she shook it hard. The ball rattled in the ink cartridge.

Then she wrote.

_Plus Ones Forever._

As the ink dried, Gail texted Holly, letting her know she was going out to handle an incident, and she loved her. Her wife knew what that meant. It had been almost twenty-five years. Holly knew that Gail would only text if she had to go do something possibly dangerous, and it was never to scare her, but always to keep Holly aware.

It was a habit Vivian had picked up on and, before she went off on patrol, always texted her mothers to let them know she loved them. Sometimes Vivian's note was a little sillier (like "You guys were loud last night.") or she'd just use an emoji or two. But that message, that note that she was thinking of them never failed to be sent. Gail wondered when that would change. When would Vivian had someone else she found it more important to text instead of them? Would she?

That thought had to be shelved. Gail had bigger fish to fry, like making sure the rookies were safe and not exactly where she didn't want them to be.

Her phone beeped before she could turn off the sound. It was Holly.

_Be safe, honey. I love you._

Gail smiled and shoved the silenced phone into her pocket.

Be safe.

She sure as hell hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED...
> 
> In three weeks. Sorry, but we're going sailing.
> 
> The 'Miss May' calendar is a shout out to the fic of that name. I do hat tips like that when I can.


	10. 01.10 Mercury Retrograde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of the line for two gangs in Toronto, but who lives and who dies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for our thrilling conclusion!

The gunshots ricocheted off the metal they were hiding behind and then stopped.

Okay.

It was terrifying. Vivian hunkered down and tried to think about something Gail might say in this moment. Something cutting, probably, or sarcastic. Mean. Gail would deflect her fear with bitchiness. That was something Vivian never mastered. "I have never in my life wished to be short," she muttered, mostly to herself.

Beside her, Lara hissed. "Shut up."

"I think they know we're here now, Lara," snapped Vivian. Oh look. There was her inner Gail.

"You're the one who said if they figured that out, we were dead," Lara replied.

Yeah. She had. Vivian sighed and made herself as small as she could and still look over at the gangs. It was a three way now, the gangs shooting at each other and, any time they moved, them. "If they decide to gang up on us, we still might be."

Rich, his face ashen, stared at his gun. "What do we do? We're not supposed to be here!"

There was that too. Technically Rich was supposed to be in charge of their little group. Clearly that wasn't working. "Jenny, check where they think we are?" It was starting to be a little long for backup to show up.

Jenny nodded and raised a hand to her radio. "Uh, Dispatch, this is 4749. Can you confirm where we're supposed to be?"

The somewhat familiar voice of Tassie, one of the dispatch coordinators, replied with an address. The address where they were. And then Tassie muttered, "Oh. Shit. That's the wrong location."

Jenny snapped, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Well that explains a lot." She thumbed her radio, "Dispatch, 4727. It's still a damn 10-33. We're taking fire now."

"How the hell are you calm?" Rich stared at her.

"I'm not," admitted Vivian. "I have no idea what the hell we're supposed to do. But screaming and crying and wailing isn't going to help." Like Gail often said, being calm in a crisis meant for a really fun break down later on. She did not enjoy the idea of that, given how soul sucking the shooting had been earlier.

"4727 and 4749, switch to alternate channel."

"Copy," replied Vivian, wondering who's voice that was. It sounded like Andy but it was hard to tell just then.

Lara asked, "What's the alternate?"

"Nine," said Vivian, confidently. She switched over and kept her voice low. "4727, Peck. We could really use you guys right now."

"I want a SitRep." That was John. Thank god.

Jenny hesitated. "I got it." When Vivian nodded, she replied. "This is 4749. We all ended up at the wrong building—"

"I got that from Dispatch, kid. What's your status?"

Jenny looked terrified. "Well. Taking fire off and on."

"Are both gangs there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Copy. Sit tight. Anyone hurt?"

"None of us, but Dr. Van Lowe got shot in the knee."

When Jenny paused, Vivian added, "By Bobby."

The pause from John felt like the one before he laughed at something malicious. There was a reason he kept up with Gail all these years. "Can you give me a visual?"

When no one else moved, Vivian swallowed her fear. Look up. She crouched and leaned her head around. "Simmons, I see ten from Hill and about the same from Rivers. The three ringleaders are having a standoff."

"Can you hear them, Peck?"

"Not right now. They were arguing about how Jackie's dad was Anton Hill, and the doctor, Veronica, was sorry and ... I think they're siding against Bobby."

"And they stopped shooting?"

"Yeah. They spotted us. Kind of." The gangs didn't actually know they were cops, which was to their advantage right now.

"Kind of?" John sounded skeptical.

"They're arguing over whose gang we're from," she explained.

"But you can't hear them now?"

"No they're too quiet— Wait, hang on." She grabbed Rich. "Read!"

"What?" He almost dropped his gun.

Jesus, Fear made people stupid. "Read their damn lips, Rich."

He stared at her, aghast. "You want me to stick my head out there?"

They all heard someone shout. "Who the hell is over there?"

Crap. Vivian tabbed her radio. "Yeah, yeah we can hear 'em again. They still think we're each other's spies."

"Any way out?"

"One door and they'll see us."

"Okay. Sit tight. Don't try and negotiate. We're coming up silent."

"Copy." Vivian exhaled and rested her head against the metal.

Rich was staring at her. "How are you calm?"

She was about to say she had no idea, but the thing was, Vivian did have an idea. Because logic had been simmering in her head for months. If she'd seen her father die, then she'd been the one who called 911. Vivian shook her head. Telling them she'd seen worse wasn't going to go over well. "They're coming."

"So are they," say Lara darkly.

Now they were in trouble. Vivian got to her knees and looked. Shoot or surrender? They knew backup was, really now, on the way.

"Who the hell is there?" Bobby stepped forward.

Rich apparently remembered he was in charge. "Police!" He rose partly, gun drawn and raised. "We have the building surrounded. Give up."

Oh fucking awesome. Now he could do something.

Cringing, Vivian drew her gun. Lara and Jenny were a heartbeat behind. Four rookies with 23s against … well it looked like fifteen gang members with semi-automatic weapons. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

Holly knew better. She knew not to listen to the police radio. She knew not to look out at what Fifteen was doing. In twenty five years, in thirty years, she knew not to look. It would give her nightmares to be aware of everything the cops were doing every day. Yes, it was sticking her head in the sand, but that was how she made it through the day knowing people shot at the woman she loved.

It extended logically to her daughter. It was just better not knowing sometimes.

Still, when she stared at the request from Guns & Gangs at Fifteen, Holly's knee jerk reaction was to wonder about her wife and kid. "Benton, run that by me again." It was only from years of practice that she kept her voice still.

"The date got moved up to today. I know it's a rush but can you have some ballistics experts on hand? We're gonna have a lot to do."

The bust was moved up a day. Everyone knew Gail hated changes in schedule. That meant something was up. Holly looked up from her desk and over at where Fifteen sat in the distance. "Just ballistics?"

"Uh…" The tone told her everything she needed to know.

"Right. Three Divisions worth of evidence. Guns. Drugs."

"Possibly bodies."

And now Holly felt cold. "Possibly bodies. Thank you for the heads up." She hung up and covered her face. That was not good. She hadn't lived with cops for years not to know what the tone meant.

"Hey... Everything okay?" Rodney showed up and sounded worried.

"Has it occurred to you that we're too cavalier about these things?" Holly took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Like death? Sometimes." He came in, closing the door, and sat on Holly's couch. "I heard you were on the line with the Ds. Everything okay?"

Holly sighed. "I need you to stay late and cover the case."

There was a pause before Rodney spoke. "You know I was totally in support when you said we had a schedule and we'd stick to it, even if that meant we caught cases we hated when it was our turn..."

Sliding her glasses back on, Holly nodded. "I did. This happens to be Gail's case."

"Oh. That is ... Yeah." He paused and frowned. "Wait, is this the warehouse case?"

Holly blinked. "Yes. Why... How did you know that?" She hadn't mentioned it, and the case had been kept on the quiet even from her own assistant medical examiner.

"Uh, it's all over." Rodney got up and walked around to her side of the desk. "Can I?" She nodded and scooted back, watching Rodney pull up the details on police dispatch. "I know I'm not supposed to watch it, but you remember how we were talking about optimizing our roll outs and boosting efficiency?"

"Of course." Holly smiled a little. She'd given Rodney free reign on organizing his plan to streamline the lab's field deployments, to experiment and test. So far he'd improved their response time by almost half an hour on average. "Besides the obvious, how's that working out?"

"Not bad." He stopped and waggled a hand. "The problem is too much information. I started by trying to do something I know is stupid. I was trying to build a predictive model based on who was dispatched where."

Holly smirked. "That's never going to work."

"I know. Can't predict crime without the right data. It was all fake in _Person of Interest_. But. While I was doing that, I found out you could figure out what places the other cops thought needed attention. Based on the rookies."

The rookies? Holly didn't have to think about it at all. The idea bloomed in her head, fully formed, right away. "They don't send the kids out to the hotspots."

"Right. So I watched how Sgt. Epstein organized people. McNally's a little different, but it's the same idea."

"Which... Warehouses?"

"Oh, right, because this." Rodney pulled up a page and showed deployments for the rookies for the last month. "Three weeks they've been watching nothing but empty buildings."

He was smart. Holly smiled tiredly. "Can't fool you. Yes, they're working on that gang case, the one with the drugs? I gather its escalating."

Rodney started to smile and then looked worried. "Oh god, you're right. We are way too cavalier about this shit." He walked away to the window.

With a shrug, Holly scooted back to study his little app. "It's the nature of the beast, as my wife would say. Speaking of wives, did yours help you with this?"

"A little, yeah." His wife was a computer programmer. "Nothing secret. I didn't violate the NDA."

She shook her head. "I was thinking we should hire her, but the overhead for a project like this is weirdly insane." Holly skimmed the output from that day.

The pieces slid into place without asking her permission. The phone in her pocket suddenly grew heavy. The scientist in her brain, which Gail would say was most of her, sorted and filed the evidence. The rookies had been at the outlier locations. They'd rotated the groups, give them all the experience of a boring surveillance gig. Fifteen and TwentySeven and ThirtyFour. But today was different. Today was all the rookies at a separate location _except_ Fifteen. Fifteen's rookies were all at one location.

Holly tapped the keys and felt cold. 4727. She was on location. And that was the same location they'd just deployed ETF. And ... Yes. That was where Gail was headed too.

"Whoa, boss. You okay there, Holly?"

"No." She shook her head. "Not at all. Rodney, the kids are there."

"There... Where?" He stared at her and then came around to look. "Why are they all at the same location..."

"I think someone screwed up," she said softly and pulled her phone out. Who could she call? Gail was going to be on site. Steve would be. Vivian would be. All of them would turn their phones to true silence if needed, and if not, she didn't want to distract them. There was a number. She tapped it.

"Hey doc!"

"Duncan, what the hell is going on?" No preamble, no warm up. She was just going to ask him.

He hesitated. "Man, Doc, you know I can't talk about this sorta thing."

"Duncan. My daughter has kindly not informed her entire class about your nickname, or your history." Holly could hear him swallowing. "Why are all the rookies at one warehouse and why is ETF on the way?"

There was a strange sound on the phone. "Uh. Hold on."

A different voice picked up the line. "Holly, stop making Duncan piss himself." The voice was calm, comforting, and familiar. Holly closed her eyes and listened to Nick. "It looks like there was a logistical issue with dispatch. They were deployed to the wrong location. We're going to get everyone back, right and tight."

"Nicholas." Holly breathed through her nose. "I'm not asking as Gail's wife. I'm asking as Vivian's mother and I'm asking as someone who drove you home more than once and tucked you into your own bed."

Her friend sighed. "Holly, that's playing dirty."

"I don't really care. I want to know how dangerous this is. Please." In general, Holly knew the power of her 'please' with their friends.

"Relatively... High." He wasn't lying. "I thought you never wanted the details."

She exhaled and looked over at Rodney who was a little horrified. "Apparently things change. Please keep me updated?"

"I will. I promise."

Hanging up, Holly wanted to text Gail or Vivian. She wanted to tell them to stop all this, to be safe. "Vivian's there? In the middle?" When Holly nodded, Rodney winced. "I don't know how you do it," said Rodney. "How do you not go insane?"

Holly shook her head. "The first thing... The very first thing I learned about being in love with Gail is that she will always go back out there. I can't really be surprised Vivian takes after that... The selflessness." She sighed. For both, it came from their abandonment issues. They couldn't be themselves and let someone else hurt if they could stop it.

It was what she loved about Gail. It was what drew her in so completely. And she loved seeing it in their daughter. To see the person they'd raised care so much about people.

But she really should have kept her head in the sand and not looked.

* * *

At least everyone had stopped shooting. Vivian exhaled.

"Cops? Who the hell tipped the cops off?" That was Bobby Blue. Vivian was starting to memorize his nasal tone. Also the other men spoke in a more nervous, unconfident voice.

"Don't look at me," said a woman. Jackie. That sounded like Jackie. Vivian craned her neck to look without giving herself away. "Sounds like a damn kid. Did some baby cop on his own find us?"

The calmer voice was the doctor, and by the way, who was calm after being shot? "There are two cop cars out there." She was holding her phone, her leg bandaged already. "Damn. Look." She held up the phone to Jackie.

"Shit, that was smart of them. Rerun the tapes for the last couple hours?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Veronica. "How about you give me a goddamned minute first? You shot me, you asshole."

Oh. Shit. "They have a camera," whispered Vivian. "They can see our cruisers." Jenny nodded and pressed her radio, quietly relaying that to the officers on the way. It was Lara who pulled her own cellphone out and pulled up the wifi network. Of course. Why hadn't she thought of that?

"They must have found the guns right before we came back," said Bobby slowly.

"Found?" Jackie sounded angry, but was injecting Veronica with ... something. They were incredibly calm people.

"Well I sure as hell put the lid back on." Fuck. That was her fault, realized Vivian. Bobby waved his gun in their direction. "Two cars. That's four cops total. We can take 'em. You." He pointed at one of the minions. "Go see if the cars are empty."

"And ... What?" The minion was either stupid or smart.

"And if they are, jack 'em and hide 'em. If they aren't, make 'em."

But there was a hesitation. An uncomfortable tension. "They have radios," said Veronica. "Hold on." She did something on her phone. "They're not on the normal frequencies. Smart. If we block them all, we won't be able to call out either."

"Can you snipe it?" Jackie seemed like she expected this of her cousin. Great. They were technologically smart too.

As the cousins argued about how to block their radios, Vivian turned to Lara. "Can we block their wifi?"

"They'll still have wireless data," said Lara, her voice low.

"Knock the cameras out." Beyond making it harder for the idiots to access anything, the cameras being out would make it safer for the rest of the officers coming to rescue them.

Lara frowned. "You want me to crash their wifi? How do you think we do that?"

"We could google 'how to crash wifi'?" That was Rich. And it wasn't a bad idea.

"Yeah, even if we do, I have no idea how to do any of that!"

But Vivian did. Or at least she thought she did. It was in her engineering classes. They'd played around with the idea of blowing up wifi and, one evening, she'd experimented at home. Gail was pissed for days. There were a lot of ways. She could overrun the bandwidth and slow it down. She could simulate a Denial of Service attack. She could use Bluetooth...

Vivian pulled her own phone out and stared at it. Packet spam. She thumbed open her shell script app and checked. Please please have luck. Please. Vivian was raised by an atheist and an agnostic. Gail didn't believe in any God. Holly was an agnostic, accepting the possibility of a higher power, but wanting science to prove it. And Vivian? She didn't know. She couldn't prove God, and that bothered her, but not having an ounce of faith in anything ephemeral meant she could only have faith in humanity. And if anything had betrayed her, it was humans.

Right then, sitting behind a broken boiler, Vivian would pray to anything or anyone listening just to be sure she hadn't deleted the script she'd written for the class.

"Yes!" She kept her voice a low hiss and tapped the commands. It was illegal as hell. It was stupid and reckless and it was possible a two year old script wouldn't work right at all. She pressed the run command. "If you guys believe in God, start praying," Vivian said softly.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

"What the hell? The network is down."

Yes! Vivian grinned ear to ear. Technology for the win!

"What did you do?" Lara's eyes were wide.

"Crashed the network. Jenny, tell 'em the video's down."

Rich stared at her. "You know how to do that?"

"I majored in engineering." Vivian shoved her phone away. "It's not perfect. If my phone dies, it'll stop." And using Bluetooth gave her a couple hours at best. That should be enough time though. She hoped. If they were still in there after another couple hours without any backup, they had a lot of problems.

The cousins were still arguing.

Finally Bobby shouted. "Enough! This is stupid. Go check the cars."

There was a clatter of the door opening and then they all heard what was, to Vivian, the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. Sirens. The gangs started to swear and Rich spoke up. "Killing us would be a bad idea right now," he shouted at them.

Lara gaped. "Rich!"

But Vivian nodded. Right. That was a great idea. "Go on," she said softly.

Rich poked his head up. "Look, Bobby. Jackie. Veronica. Here's the thing. We know." He glanced at Vivian and mouthed 'help.' Help. He wanted information, and the shit head didn't know ASL or anything helpful. Well. Okay. Slowly she mouthed that they knew about the drugs. "We know about the drugs. And the guns. And Jackie."

"Shit," said Bobby. "We shoulda killed them. See this is the problem. I get it, coz. I do. You hate the killing. Well. They killed my old man, they killed our grandfather. And yeah, Jackie, we killed your old man. I'm sorry. I really am. But we have to stand together."

Jackie sighed. "Bobby. You can't just keep running around shooting people. You've got to have a plan."

"I do. And I got an even better one. What if... What if I forgive Anton for offing granddad?"

"Uh, Anton's dead," said Veronica slowly, hauling herself to sit on a gun crate.

But Jackie seemed to follow. "And I forgive you for killing Anton?"

Veronica spoke up. "Who was dying anyway." She winced. "You shot me, you fucker."

"Please, it's a through and through." Bobby hesitated. "You stabbed me last year." He patted his stomach.

Smiling, Jackie shook her head. "We kiss, we make up, we join forces?"

"You run Hill. I run Rivers. Spikes keeps us both in check."

The three cousins stared at each other. "Works for me. What about the cops?"

It was enough to that Vivian wanted to bash her head in. Lara groaned and said, "Seriously? They had to be the only reasonable fucking gang members on the damn planet?" They all gripped their guns a little tighter.

And Vivian prayed to whatever the hell was up there that someone on their side was smart enough to do what had to be done.

* * *

"Catch me up, John," said Gail as she walked over to her sergeant.

"Four rooks, hiding but they've been spotted. They're behind cover." John had his vest on and an radio earbud in his hand. "Here, we're getting updates from Aronson."

Gail took the earbud and wiggled it in. "Anyone hurt?"

"No, sounds like the earlier shooting was to scare them. Rookies are fine." He pointed at the building. "They poked their heads out, the gangs, right as we came up. Apparently their camera is out."

They had a camera? Gail stared at the building, studying it and trying to spot the camera. "Why is the camera out?"

John smirked. "Apparently Peck blew up their wifi with some kind of packet burst?"

Pausing her look for the camera, Gail blinked. Then she grinned. Nicely done. That was her kid alright. She smothered the smile and nodded. "And where are we now?"

"Hanford's actually doing a decent job of talking them down. Or he was until the gangs decided to stop fighting each other and team up."

"I thought orders were to not engage?"

"Sure, and that worked until they got shot at, boss. Can't blame 'em." John shrugged. "Who do you want to negotiate?"

Gail hesitated. "How far out is ETF?"

"About ten minutes. Give or take. I told Tran about the wifi business and she wanted to adjust her troops."

Fair enough. Sue would know best. "Steve," she said decisively. "This is his baby." As John turned to make it happen, Gail finally found the camera. It was in the sign. "Hey, do we have the paintball gun?"

Much like the beanbag gun, non-lethal weapons had been all the rage for the last decade. Gail was very much a fan of anything that took people down without a high risk of loss of life. Weasel words. She didn't want to kill people, or be the one to make the call that they died. More than once Gail had been forced to make the call and give a sniper a go signal. Those decisions haunted her still and always would. They felt like failures.

"Yeah, it's in my cruiser," said Dov. He too was a fan of non-lethal methods.

"Give it to Nick. I want to take out the camera even if they get wifi back."

A few moments later, Nick showed up with the paintball rifle. "Where?"

"Look at the sign." She pointed. "The fourth screw from the left, top row, doesn't match the placement of the others."

Nick leaned against the cruiser and steadied his little paintball rifle. "Yeah. Yeah, I see it. Okay." He slowed his breathing. Gail envied his ability with shots like this. It was both too far and too rifle oriented for her. She could see it, but her ability to hit the target precisely like that was limited at best given the distance. If it was a handgun, she'd ask Dov to shoot. A rifle? You asked Nick.

Three soft pops from the gun went off and there was a faint tinkle from afar. "I think you broke it," said Dov, amused.

"Happens." Nick straightened. "Definitely a camera, though."

"John, tell the kids we think we knocked out the camera on us, but we don't know if there are more." Her sergeant nodded and dropped his head to talk to the rookies. Gail was confidant John would make sure Vivian kept whatever blocking she had going on until ETF showed up. Pushing her hands through her hair, Gail studied the building. "Dov, tell me you know why the rooks are here?"

"Dispatch fucked up. I had them yank Tassie off the line."

Gail nodded. "I want to say good but Jesus, what a fuck up."

Her friend, ex-roommate, and soon to be ex-sergeant, nodded. "I don't know how the hell you're calm, to be honest." Dov jerked his chin at the building.

That was a good question. She certainly had been anything but calm when Vivian saw a guy blow his head off. And she'd been really a basket case one night when she thought Vivian hadn't come home. But today... "She's a cop, Dov."

It wasn't like Vivian was going to be stupid and reckless. Certainly Vivian was the kid who was calm and collected in a crisis. Gail _trusted_ her daughter, in skills and sense. She was terrified her kid might get hurt, but at the same time she knew this was Vivian's choice. Scared and confident. This was what Elaine must have meant when she said she was always worried when Gail or Steve went on a dangerous case, but at the same time she was certain they would be fine because she knew her children and their abilities.

So did Gail.

Her brother walked up, pulling a warmer jacket on over his vest. Steve's thinning, grey hair waved in the winter breeze. "John caught me up. What's my limit?"

"Try to keep it under a million," Gail said flippantly.

Steve smiled and hefted his bullhorn. "Somehow they don't strike me as the money people."

"That's why you're my guy, Steve. Me and you."

"You and me." He nodded at her.

They bumped fists and Gail stepped back behind the cruiser. She thumbed her radio. "I want eyes on Steve. Any target lights him up and I want him down and safe."

Glancing back at her, Steve smirked. "I knew you loved me." And then the goofy, genial mask Steve nearly always wore faded away. He was all business. "Hello folks. Bobby Z. Jackie. Veronica. Or if you'd like, Blue, Red, and Spikes. This is the Toronto Police. You're in a bit of a pickle. See. You have four of our folks in there, but we have you surrounded."

Gail's earbud came to life. "Someone's headed up to the catwalk... Looks like Jackie." The voice was Jenny Aronson. So the kids were still able to watch. Good.

A window on the upper level opened. "We have phones, asshole."

Smirking, Gail nodded at Steve. "Whom would you like me to call?" He was so polite it was hilarious. If only they knew that was Steve's tone for idiots.

Jackie shouted down a number and then leaned forward. "You fucking paint balled the camera? Ugh." The window closed.

Gail rubbed her face to hide the smile. "Mom would be so proud of your grammar, Steve."

"Blame your wife." He tossed the megaphone to Dov. "AV, you guys recording my phone?"

The tech gave Steve a thumbs up. "Put your earbuds on channel 87, ma'am," the tech said to Gail.

"John, stay on with the kids." When John nodded, Gail gave Steve a go sign.

He dialed. "Hello-"

"Listen, assholes, I'm gonna say this once. Go away."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Hello, Bobby. You know I can't do that."

In the background of the phone, Gail could just make out a woman telling Bobby it was worth a shot. "Hang on..." The phone took on an echo quality. "You're on speaker. What deal you got for me that you won't kill us as soon as we walk out?"

"Kill you? Why would we do that? Have you seen the hassle that happens if we shoot a civilian?" Steve shook his head. "Look, I'll make this easy. Put down your guns, kneel in a circle, and we'll arrest you. There's not much else going for you. I mean, let's face it Bobby, you are literally surrounded."

"We're also well armed," said a cool, female voice. "And you can't shoot us."

"Don't want to and can't are very different," Steve said earnestly. "That would be my last choice, folks, but if that's the only way to end this, then that's what'll happen."

There was a very tense pause on the phone. "What if we let them go? They go and then you let us go and we all walk away."

Steve shook his head. "Can't do that either, Bobby. You know it."

"So you want us to give up and rot in jail? Because death is pretty much how this ends. That's what happened to my old man."

Gail blinked and pulled out her phone. Her Mountie contact might be able to help her out here. Texting the case number, she explained that they were working with the son of the main protection and were trying to peacefully end a standoff. The Mountie replied right away and promised to contact Bobby Zanaro Sr and see if he was willing to help.

Meanwhile, Steve kept going. He knew Bobby Z. was alive and Gail wondered if that was coloring his approach. "That all depends on what you give us, Bobby. The drugs are one thing. The guns though, that's new. I'd love to get some info on that."

The phone cut out for a moment. They'd hit mute. Steve waited patiently. Then Jackie's voice cut in. "No."

Steve glanced at Gail and signed that at least now they knew who'd gotten the guns. "You've got to give me something, folks."

"There's no way we're getting out of here safe and sound," said Jackie, angrily. "Why would we?"

Looking thoughtful, Steve asked something obvious, but odd. "How about your men? They come out, with our cops, and we'll nickel them for accessory. Serve three. Out in two for good behavior. Minimum security." Obviously he was banking on them actually caring about family.

The mute type silence went on again. "Half."

"S'cuse me?"

"Half. Two cops. The chatty guy and one other stays. Hostages."

Her brother turned, arching an eyebrow. Half. Not great. "Hostages is a pretty big step," said Steve, cautioning them.

"If I call 'em collateral, is it different?" Bobby's tone was derisive.

Steve smiled a little. "It sets a better expectation."

"Fine. Whatever makes you feel better. But we want 'em unarmed."

Gail wanted to say no, but the fact was two cops held hostage by three crazy cousins was a hell of a lot of a better situation. "Do it," she said softly to Steve, signing as she spoke.

"The other cops get their guns," Steve said firmly.

The deal was accepted. The door opened not even ten minutes later and a handful of gang members walked out. Frankly Gail was surprised they gave in that fast. "Swarek, take 'em," she said to the man. As TwentySeven's units rounded up the gang, the door opened again and another group walked out, followed by two uniforms.

It was Aronson and Volk. Of course. Gail's heart thudded in her chest. Was this how Elaine had felt? No, no, her mother had never stood and watched her like this. Superintendent Peck had not worn a vest and waited while her children were at the hands of some insane people. She'd sat behind the desk and trusted them to do their damn jobs.

And that? That helped. Gail took a long, slow, breath. "Dov," she said quietly. "They're yours."

Her friend, one of her oldest and truest friends, nodded slowly. "I'll find out." He walked over to the rookies, still his rookies, and sat them down by the EMTs for a once over.

Her other friend, her partner of over fifteen years, came up beside her. "She's really a Peck," John said thinly.

"My kind of Peck." Gail gripped her belt. "You know. The one thing I've missed, not being a uni, is the duty belt."

John glanced at his waist. "God. Yes. That always felt so solid and safe. Like a shield."

And Vivian still had hers. There was that at least. "She knows we're here," Gail said for her own sanity's sake.

Which worked just fine until there was a gunshot.

* * *

It was really easy to hate people. Vivian pressed both hands to Rich's leg, wishing she had a cloth or a shirt... What had Gail said? She'd used Chris' own shirt when he'd been stabbed. Vivian didn't really want to rip Rich's shirt off. He needed to keep it on, in case of shock. And it was already cold in the room.

There was that weird thing about stress and overstimulation that calmed her down. Vivian had no idea why it worked that way, but whenever there was a crisis, or too much was going on, her brain was able to compartmentalize everything. Her therapist said it wasn't the best thing in the world, but it wasn't the worst either.

Right now, her brain knew the following: Gail was in charge outside. Steve was on the phone, or had been until the shot rang out and Bobby hung up. ETF was there, or nearly there. Rich was shot in the thigh and bleeding not too horribly.

"Hey," she said to Veronica. "You're the doctor. If my partner bleeds out, you guys are in a whole mess of trouble."

Jackie pointed her gun at Vivian. "Shut the hell up."

Well. That was new. Vivian swallowed. The bile in her throat receded as the adrenaline rushed through her. Looking at the gun, she was no longer afraid of it. She knew Jackie wouldn't shoot her. She could just tell. Vivian was certain in a way she'd never felt before. "You want him to die? Seriously?" She turned to Veronica. "Primum non nocere."

The least criminal of the trio looked worried. "Screw it," she said to Bobby. "I'm not letting a kid die."

Bobby looked at Jackie. "Stop waving that around, idiot. That running off half cocked is how we got in this trouble in the first place." He grabbed Jackie's gun. "Jesus, you're so fucking meticulous about money and so impulsive about this... That's why we gotta be a team, Red."

And Jackie looked dejected. "Shut up. You already shot Ronnie."

It was the family kind of arguments Vivian saw with her own parents. Gail and Steve were just like that. For all the three idiots were dumb as a bag of hair, they stuck together. "You two use your brains to get us out of this," ordered Veronica. "They can trace the drugs, but they want the guns. We could give up that, and Jackie can show them how she hid the money trail."

Vivian knew Gail had pulled in a forensic accountant already, so that was a dead end. Not that she was telling them that. "Thank you," she said quietly to Veronica. That was what Steve had told her. Make a connection with the criminals and they'd treat you like humans.

"I'm not doing it for you," replied Veronica, bitterly. "I don't want Jackie to do time for murder."

"After your cousin shot you." She squeezed Rich's hand, encouraging him to lie down.

Veronica shrugged. "You don't have family?" She held out the first aid kit.

A gamble. "Not like that." Vivian took the kit. "In my family, shooting each other is kinda how you get promoted."

That got Veronica's attention. "Promoted?" She was laying out the tools needed. Scissors. Gauze. Padding. "You skip a gang for cops?"

"No, I'm a Peck. We've been cops since Toronto has had 'em." Three faces stared at her. At her jacket. "At least one Peck killed another to get his job. My mom got her mom fired."

"Your mom is a Peck?"

"Yeah. Pecks keep their name when they marry. Can we actually stop my idiot partner from dying? I will never live it down if he dies."

Bobby snorted a laugh. "What and being held hostage is okay?"

Pointing at Rich, who was wisely silent, Vivian stated the obvious. "He's my partner." The less obvious of course was she was still blocking the WiFi from her phone. "We're supposed to stay with our partner."

"Yeah? You always do what you're told?" Veronica cut Rich's pants.

"Well. Last time I didn't, I ended up held as collateral while the guy who asked me that was bleeding on the floor." She took gauze from Veronica and held it in place. "I think I'll stick to the status quo."

Grunting, Veronica wrapped the bandage around Rich's leg. "Easier said than done. Help me up, cop."

She wasn't in a position to argue, but she did take her jacket off and cover Rich with it. His eyes were wide open and she mouthed 'keep calm and listen' to him. Rich shivered in reply. "Where... Um, where do you want to go?"

"Over to my computer. Crap you're tall." Veronica leaned on Vivian and shook her head. "Nope, no good. Jackie, bring me the laptop. Cop, you seem okay with blood. Change my bandage."

The less they paid attention to her as more than a minion, the more they'd talk around her. She sighed a little and undid the bandage, re wrapping a clean one in place. Then she sat by Rich's head, putting the arms of her coat under his head. "Hang in there, Richie," she said softly.

He gripped her hand. "How bad is my leg?" Rich was shaking, probably from shock.

"You'll be fine," said Vivian, promising something she couldn't know was true. It was something she sincerely doubted. She felt eyes on her and looked up at Veronica.

The doctor narrowed her eyes. "Your dad's a doctor."

Vivian reflexively shook her head. "No... Well. Yes, technically." That was still funny, though they had finally gotten the new paperwork drawn up and Holly was no longer listed at her father. "Not a people doctor. Lab doctor. No patients."

Veronica nodded. "Smart man." She tapped on her keys. "Jackie, someone's microbursting the wifi. I'm not getting it back."

"Which means what?" Jackie sat down next to her cousin.

"Means I'm stuck using my cell to contact anyone, which you can bet your ass they'll start blocking any second now." They both looked at Vivian, expectantly.

She hesitated. "Yes," said Vivian carefully. "It's SOP to cut off your contact. They've probably been tapping all calls. The block only happens if we think you're escalating."

All three women looked at the pale and sweaty Rich.

"Fucking Bobby." Veronica shoved the laptop aside. "Bobby, we gotta figure this out."

The man sat on the other side of Veronica. "They keep texting. He wants to know who was shot."

Vivian blinked. "You _may_ want to answer that." They all looked at her. "Unless you like the idea of them busting on in here."

Grunting, Veronica shoved Bobby off the crate. "Help me prop my leg up. I'll call the guy back. What's his name?"

"Steve. I didn't get the last name." Bobby handed the phone over and helped with her leg. "How come you're in better shape than the kid?"

"You got me in the calf, not the knee. Through and through. You nailed the kid in the meaty part of the thigh. Didn't Nick a vein at least."

"Plus you're probably high on painkillers already," said Jackie. Veronica just shrugged. Well wasn't that interesting. "You sure you're up for this?"

Nodding, Veronica tapped the last number. "Hello, Mr. Steve. You're on speaker."

Her uncle's voice came across the line. "Hello. Is this Veronica or Jackie?"

"Veronica. How long do I have before you cut off my phone?"

"Well. The trigger happy techs want to do it now, but I'd rather not. Then we can't have our little chats." Steve waited and then spoke again. "Protocol, we hear gunshots, we have a green light to go in. But my boss wants to keep things calm. How about ... Who did you shoot?"

Veronica looked at Bobby. "We give to get." She tapped the screen. "The annoying boy model. In the thigh. He'll live." She tapped again. "Okay. What do we want? Cause we're not getting a chopper."

"Lighter sentence," said Jackie. "Maybe this whole gang thing was a bad idea. I was making more as an accountant."

"I was having fun," Veronica admitted.

Bobby sighed and wiped his face. "I just wanted ... Fuck. I don't know anymore. I wanted all those assholes who killed our granddads, our dads, our uncles... " They all fell silent.

On the phone, Steve spoke up again, asking if they were okay. Veronica sighed. "Hey, Steve. You been a cop for a long time?"

"Yes, yes I have. Thirty-five years."

Veronica looked surprised. "That's a hell of a long time."

"My old man had fifty. Died in uniform." He waited and went on, chatting. "I'm from a long line of cops. As long as Toronto's had 'em, we've been 'em." Vivian went cold. Shit. He was going to do the Peck story! And yet he stopped. "Kinda like you guys. We are what our parents make us. But... Me and my sister, we broke the mold."

Snorting, Veronica winced. "What can you promise us?"

Steve hesitated. "That depends on what you give us. Right now, you're cooperating. So I can get you down for drugs, guns, and the deaths. We can talk it down with the Crowne's office."

"That's not an assurance, Steve." Veronica looked up at the ceiling. "I'm hanging up. I'll call back." She pressed a button. "We, my cousins, are fucked."

"Maybe I should just kill the kids?" Bobby gestured at Vivian and Rich. "I mean, we're going to rot _or_ we can go out fast."

"End the way that makes a legend?" Jackie shrugged.

Veronica nodded. "The detox woulda been a bitch anyway." Bobby cocked his gun and aimed at Rich. "Hit him in the head. It'll be fast."

And Vivian had to speak up. "This is a really bad idea guys." The gun aimed at her calmed her. A gun wasn't something to be afraid of. The man behind the gun, he was just a person holding a tool. She could handle people now. That was the best gift she'd gotten from her mothers.

They all stared at her. "What do you know?" Veronica looked interested.

"You don't get it, which is weird." She turned and looked Blue in the eyes. "Death is final. Death changes things forever. If you do it, see it, face it, it changes you. You will never be anything but this. A killer. You will all be known as the ones who killed and died. Is that how you want to be remembered?"

Bobby's hand wavered. He repeated Veronica's question. "What do you know?"

"About Three Rivers? A lot. You were never about killing until those yahoos who punted your dad took over." Vivian glanced at Veronica. "You knew that, right? About the nurse who was helping them do body dumps out of old ambulances? That's how they got caught."

The doctor stared at her. "How the hell did you know that?"

"You already know," said Vivian calmly. "You know that Steve, on the phone? He's been a cop forever, just like me. So when I tell you he was the cop who was stabbed by the nurse, and his sister is the one who took them down..." She trailed off.

Veronica nodded. "And they're running the show out there. Son of a bitch. You're the worst hostage ever."

"I'm not a hostage if you let us go. Put the guns down. Sit there. Let me let them in. Then it all stops. No one dies."

Bobby shook his head. "So what. So we die. The end."

She had expected that. A man giving up. "Death is really final, Bobby," Vivian said softly. "I've seen people blow their heads off. I've seen people murdered, Bobby. And I've picked up the pieces of the people they leave behind. Like you. Jackie. Veronica. I know how this ends. Don't do it."

* * *

There were no dead bodies. That was the only good thing. Had there been one, Holly would have been tapped herself to come over. Still, as she sent out her ballistics and evidence retrieval experts, Holly kept staring at her phone. Ring.

It wouldn't, though. It couldn't. Gail wouldn't call until it was all well and truly over. Vivian too. Holly had dared to use the 'find my friends' app and verified that Gail and Vivian were at the same location. Then she'd turned on the news and watched, which was not a good idea. The news reporters weren't allowed in or even close, but she could make out most of the cops she knew. Dov had a walk, Gail had a stance even when she had a hat covering that hair.

"Jesus, Holly..." The tired voice of her sister in law surprised her.

"I know, I know." She rubbed her face. "Don't watch."

Traci closed the door and sat next to Holly on the couch. "Everyone's fine. So far." She took one of Holly's hands.

"Vivian's in there," Holly said flatly.

"What?" Traci stared at the television.

Holly sighed. "See... I know my wife. That's her in the baseball cap over by the EMTs. And there's Steve in that God awful purple shirt. Is he colorblind?"

"No..."

"Huh. I've always wondered... Anyway. There's Dov and Nick and Andy. And I see the rookies over there. Volk and Aronson. And there's Christian. Which means Vivian and Abercrombie are ... They're in there."

Traci squeezed her hand. "Okay, Holly, look at me." She reached over for the remote and turned the TV off. "They kept Hanford, and Viv's his partner. So she stayed. She's fine, though."

"She's in a warehouse with the same crazed assholes who stabbed Steve," Holly said bitterly.

Her friend and sister-in-law sighed. "You can't watch this stuff, Hol."

Holly nodded, not crying. She couldn't cry. She was sad, but not like that. She was more angry. "You know, Trace, I thought I could handle it. I thought because Gail did this, because I was used to it, I'd be fine."

"Holly..."

"I'm mad at myself, you know? For being so supporting and ... And taking Viv's side in all this. She wanted to be this so bad, Traci." And that was something Holly understood. She'd been nearly Vivian's age when she stepped up against her parents' wishes and changed her direction in med school. Holly had sold her motorcycle, started the process of getting a loan, looked up every scholarship, and then, only then, had her mother broken down.

When a person wanted something like that, like she wanted to be a pathologist and like Vivian wanted to be a cop, nothing stood in the way.

"I don't think I'd be half as calm as you if it was Leo," admitted Traci. "How the hell do you do it?"

"I don't know." Holly sighed and took off her glasses, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye-sockets.

Her friend got up and brought a mug of tea over. "You have the MOM mug," said Traci, amusedly.

"You're trying to distract me," Holly complained.

"I know. I'm really bad at it. Or you're just really hard to distract." Traci put the mug down. "I've seen how Gail does it. No offense, we're not that close."

Holly cracked a smile and closed her eyes. "Thank you. That helps." She took a deep breath. "It just makes me a little crazy."

Traci sat beside Holly and touched her back. She didn't say anything though. She sat next to Holly and was quiet and supportive. When Holly picked the remote back up and turned the news back on, Traci didn't speak up.

The talking news head was being escorted, by Andy, away from the area. "ETF has arrived on scene and Sgt. McNally has asked us to leave the scene for our own safety. Sergeant, do you have a statement for us?"

Andy looked a little surprised on the screen. "No, no comment. Please keep back here across the street. Officer Fox...?" The man nodded and took a stance at the line, looking grim faced.

And Holly laughed a little. "Poor Andy. Is that why she never went for sergeant before?"

Traci smiled. "You should have seen Gail the first time she was supposed to give a speech for her mother. I thought she was going to puke."

"Vivian has all her TV appearances recorded." Holly sighed softly. "The one at the dance party for the LGBT centre was my favorite." Gail had worn a handful of glow necklaces and introduced a young woman named Katie to the media, who had lived in the same group home with Sophie many years ago. Much like Sophie, Katie had ended up in social work. Where Sophie was a child advocate lawyer, Katie ran a shelter for LGBT youths.

Of course Gail had gone, in her dress uniform and all her glory, to the gala opening. And that meant, when the news showed up, Gail was tasked with talking to the reporters about the event. At home with the flu, Vivian had been wrapped up in a blanket, watching the news, and had shouted that Holly had to record things, because Mom was on TV.

Holly had actually thought Vivian was hallucinating, knowing how much Gail hated public speaking. But there was Gail, glow necklaces and all, telling them how she'd known the women in charge since they were children and how very proud and honored she was to be invited. And when the reporter asked Gail if she minded being around so many openly gay kids, Gail had flashed that smile with her canines bared and said she and her wife were used to seeing gay every day.

"That was a good one," agreed Traci.

"I think I should have known Vivian was into computers and electronics then." Holly thoughtfully watched the news focus on the ETF agents. "She figured out how to download the recordings of Gail off the DVR."

"She also blew out the wifi at the your house with that toy of hers." Traci pointed at the TV. "She did it there too."

Holly blinked a little. "At that warehouse?"

Traci nodded. "Yeah. She shut down their wifi, so they couldn't get to the camera and see backup coming. Pretty damn smart, your kid." With a smile, Traci added, "Gail would've never thought of that."

"Oh, she would have. And complained and made someone else do it." But Holly felt a smile tug at her lips. Her nerdy, into math, kid had done that.

So many people, even Holly sometimes, looked at Vivian as the Peck she'd desperately wanted to be at eighteen. It wasn't anything their daughter had asked or talked about with them. She had just announced to Holly that she wanted to change her name and to be a cop. But she wanted to be both Gail and Holly. Vivian Stewart Peck.

Really, Holly didn't care. She absolutely didn't give a shit that Vivian wanted to be a Peck. Really. Holly understood her daughter's somewhat manic craving to reinvent herself as something that could withstand a tsunami of shit, a life where the unthinkable happened, and a life where Vivian would be able to walk away. That name was, unarguably, Peck.

Sometimes Holly wished she'd taken the name herself. There was something comforting about the Pecks. "Traci... Why did you change your name?"

Her friend looked surprised. "To Peck?"

"I know Steve didn't ask you." After the proposal, impromptu as it turned out, Steve had come to their house to ask Gail to be his best man. He had been on cloud nine and bouncing. All the wedding details were planned at by Gail, surprising Holly with how much talent Gail had in the arena. The Pecks likened it to tactical work. But one thing had come up early. Steve had no interest in Traci changing her name.

Traci smiled. "A few reasons. Those two needed backup for being Pecks who didn't suck. And Peck is a pretty powerful name."

"You'd already made your name, though."

"As a detective, sure." Traci shrugged. "I wanted the cheaters path, a little. People don't give you as much crap when you're not a pale, pale, Peck. They figure you had to earn the name and shut the hell up."

Well that was interesting. "You wanted to be a Peck for the power?"

Traci nodded. "Afraid so." She paused. "Why?"

Quickly Holly shook her head. "Oh no. No. I get that. I was just ... I was trying to distract myself and I was thinking..." Her eyes drifted to the television and Traci made a noise of understanding.

"Why _did_ Vivian change her name?"

"She's never really explained it." Holly nibbled the skin on the edge of her finger. She had her theories, but Holly had let Vivian find silent comfort in her name. Understanding came after acceptance.

"I don't think I would have been alright if Leo wanted to."

"Leo ... Leo doesn't have bad memories about being a Nash."

Traci winced. "I forget ... It feels like she's always been a part of the family."

Smiling, Holly put her hand in her lap. "Thank you."

"I'm serious, you know." A warm hand rested on her knee. "We're a family. And coworkers, but we take care of each other."

It was clear Traci had come not for any reason other than she and Holly were family. That was the thing about marrying into Gail's life. While the blonde would loudly argue she didn't have friends, the number of people who were there for them was uncountable.

Maybe Gail knew that, maybe she didn't. Holly certainly appreciated the people Gail had brought into her life.

* * *

The window shattered inward.

It was what Vivian had been hoping would happen for the last few minutes. The cousins that made up the stupidest gang in the history of ever had been arguing about shooting it out or selling it out. The odds of everyone walking out alive went down with every second, and Vivian knew it. She had to wait, though. She knew ETF was out there by now, and she knew their procedures.

The second the window shattered, Vivian reacted. Danger. Threat. Move. She heard the canister clatter and spin on the cement floor. Smoke grenade. Time to run. There was a small chance, a slim one that the cousins would shoot her. But Vivian had to bank on the fact they were going to care about the ETF team about to storm in from the front and side doors.

"Sorry about this, Rich." Squatting, Vivian heaved Rich into a fireman's carry.

He grunted louder than she did. "Fuck... Don't care." He was tense and Vivian felt the blood from his leg on her arm as she turned for the side door.

That meant running through the smoke. "Hold your breath," she told Rich and ran. There was no way she wasn't going to get a lung full. Rich was heavy and it was totally unlike the wall dead-lifts she did at the gym. Fifty pounds and a hundred pounds, lifting the walls on sliders was easy compared to hauling a person whom she didn't want to hurt across the room.

Gunshots rang out. Well now that was terrifying. Vivian hoped Rich couldn't hear her heart thudding as she made it past the smoke. "Why aren't you going to the door." Rich was wheezing.

"Because-" The door was kicked in and ETF was right there. "It's me, Peck! Don't shoot!"

The familiar brown eyes of her friend Duane met hers. "It's Peck. 4727 secure. 4765 needs the bus. You got this?"

"As long as no one's going to shoot me in the back." Vivian coughed. Duane gave her a thumbs up and ushered her out the door. Right away, Ivan was there and steered her to the EMTs, where a woman near her mother's age was waiting. The name on the tag said M. Maclean. Of course it was Mac.

As much as she wanted to look over at what the others were doing, especially since she heard more gun shots, Vivian found herself wracked with coughs as soon as she put Rich on a gurney.

"Jesus, Peck, that hurts," he swore. And coughed. "You had to run right into the damn smoke."

"You're welcome." Vivian bent over, hands on her knees, trying to get a full breath.

The older EMT touched her arm. "Hey, come sit down, kid." Nodding, Vivian sat and coughed again. "Put a mask on him, will you Barrows? And stop the bleeding on his leg?" Turning to Vivian, Maclean smiled. It was nice having someone she knew. "Okay, where were you hit?"

Vivian shook her head. "Not me. Rich's blood." Now that the adrenaline was washing out of her system, she felt cold.

"Hey, Barrows, gimme her coat." Maclean caught it on the fly. "Here, shock's a fun one. You get this back on."

The shivering kicked in. "I remember." Vivian pulled it over her shoulders and huddled a little.

"I'm gonna check your heart and BP, okay? And get you some oxygen." The mask went on first, which was a welcome relief. Her brain felt less fuzzy. As Maclean checked her out, the EMT shook her head and marveled. "You are incredibly calm. Is that a Peck trait?"

Vivian smiled dryly. "Good in a crisis," she said. The sound of gunfire stopped. Vivian looked up and over at the police heading in. Her mother and Steve were following the ETF troop in. Swarek was with Chloe, going around the corner, and she was pretty sure she saw Christian there too.

Maclean looked over as well. "You know she's okay, right? It's not like when your mom tore her leg on the ice."

When Vivian snorted, the other EMT (Barrows) asked, "You know her?"

With a nod, Mackenzie Maclean gestured at Gail. "This is Gail Peck's kid. I've known her for years. First time I met her, she was freaked her mom was going to die."

Around her mask, Vivian sassed. "Did your parents hate you, Mac Mac?" Then to the other EMT, she added. "I was like twelve and my mom was bleeding all over the place."

"Oh yeah, she's Gail's." The other EMT rolled his eyes.

Maclean laughed. "Need a blanket? Or do you feel okay?"

Vivian pulled the mask off. "I'm okay. I think."

The EMT nodded and helped her into the jacket properly. "Put a watch cap on." Maclean pulled one out of her rig and yanked it over Vivian's head. "And keep the mask on."

"Right." Closing her eyes, Vivian sucked in the oxygen. God that felt good.

"You're going to need to go to the ER and get checked out," said Maclean. Vivian gave her a thumbs up. "You are the most compliant cop I've ever met. Especially for a Peck."

"Her mother is a doctor, Mac, you know that. She'd never hear the end of it." Sue Tran had taken off her body armor already. She was smudged and sweaty. "Can I talk to her?"

"Sure. Just keep sucking that O in, kid." Maclean clapped a hand on Vivian's shoulder and went in the back to check on a Rich, who was complaining that he needed more painkillers.

Sue sat on the bumper next to Vivian. "Well that was a hell of a day." Vivian snorted and signed a yes sign. "You blocked the wifi?" She nodded. "And fireman carried your partner out." Sue exhaled loudly. "Fucking badass."

Taking a deep breath, Vivian took the mask off. "Except for getting talked into going in the warehouse instead of checking dispatch, and leaving the lid off the guns." As she put the mask back on, Sue was smirking. "What?"

"Not all of us are made for patrol stuff. Some of us think and plot and scheme." She pointed over at Gail, who was walking with Steve. They had Bobby Zanaro Jr. cuffed to a gurney between them and were looking sad and smug, the way only the Peck siblings could. "That one never stops thinking and unraveling plots. And she's the kind of person you want to stick with because she'll get you out of anything." Vivian smiled a little. "She was a good patrol officer. She's an fucking amazing detective."

She smiled. "Yeah," said Vivian around her mask. After all, Gail had gotten them out.

"You. You're a good cop, Vivian. A good patrol officer. But you don't think like a patrol officer. You like puzzles on a deadline. Crisis brings out the best in you." Sue tilted her head. "Follow?"

Vivian blinked. She looked at Sue and then over to where Gail was ordering Swarek around. As a younger girl, she'd wanted to be Oliver. She'd wanted to be the guy who was trusted and relied on in a crisis. But what if she wasn't that cop? What if Sue was right? What if Lara's jokes about being an adrenaline junkie weren't a joke? What if the cop she was going to be wasn't a beat cop or a detective? "Yeah," she replied. "Follow."

Sue smiled. "Good. Good."

"Who died?" When Sue startled, Vivian gestured. "I'm guessing Jackie Reynolds, but..."

The lieutenant shook her head. "Yeah. She ran right into things. Shot your friend Sabrina in the vest."

Vivian winced. "Well. She okay?"

"She is. And so are you. And so is that guy. Okay?" Sue looked at her until she nodded back. "Okay. Mac shut your partner up enough, so you get a nice ride to the hospital. I'm going to keep your old lady busy, but she'll come by."

Nodding, Vivian watched Sue head over to the other officers. Maclean reappeared. "Okay, Peck. Time to get you checked out." Nodding again, Vivian let Mac help her into the back of the ambulance. "You don't mind riding with Officer Whiney Boy here?"

Vivian smiled and took her mask off. "He's a good cop. Brave."

"Yeah?" Mac eyed him. "Well. I'll take your word at it." She rapped on the wall. "Okay, Barrows. Let's go."

And Vivian closed her eyes, leaning against the side of the ambulance as they drove to the hospital. Hell of a long day.

* * *

Everyone sang like a damn canary, which Gail felt was the first time anything had gone really right on the whole damn case. Of course, they'd also shot Bobby (in the shoulder), and he had earlier shot Veronica, and Jackie had died in the firefight. Holly did the preliminary autopsy, but suicide by cop was pretty clear cut. That meant Gail's first stop was the hospital for confessions from the survivors and then, finally, she could hunt down the rookies.

They were all hanging out in the waiting room, still in uniforms that were dirty and, in the case of Vivian, a bit bloody and probably sticky. It reminded Gail of the time she'd sat in those chairs, waiting to hear if Sam and Chloe were going to live. Absently she touched her hair. That night, that day, had changed her life irrevocably. That was the day she knew without a doubt that she was in love with Holly. And chopped off all her hair.

The rookies did not yet seem to be at that manic stage of things. Vivian was slouched as deep as possible in a chair beside Christian, who was hovering. Lara and Jenny were on Vivian's side, talking quietly. They all looked fucking beat and tired.

Gail cleared her throat. "Well. You guys look like a mess."

All four looked up and startled. Only Vivian smiled, and she almost absently signed. The doves were singing.

Lara stood up. "Detective! Um... Andy- I mean Sgt. McNally told us to stay here until Rich ..."

"He's still in surgery." Vivian signed that Rich was probably going to be fine.

It was news Gail already had and she nodded. "Good. When he gets out, you can tell him that both gangs are in custody. Biggest damn bust ever." Two of the four looked delighted. Christian did not. He looked guilty and sullen. Gail looked at her daughter again and arched an eyebrow, but Vivian just looked tired and a little sad.

"We're not in trouble," asked Jenny. "I mean, we were at the wrong warehouse."

"Not you. No. Dispatch is getting a hell of a lecture though. They're damn lucky no one died."

Vivian looked pained. "One of them did."

Yeah. That was her kid. The only person who would miss Jackie 'Red' Reynolds, aka Jackie Hill, was probably her cousin Veronica. The Hill gang collapsed in moments after her death, scattering to the wind. "None of you did." Her daughter nodded at that. "Okay, Volk, come here. We're gonna go over this, one at a time, now."

Gail sat down with the rookies, one at a time, to go over the notes. But they all shared the same explanation of what had happened. Even her daughter, who was last. Christian had been with Gail and her team the whole time, there was no need to ask him what had happened.

As the only person who'd been in the warehouse the entire time, Vivian's story included the horrifying moment of Rich being shot. "I guess I should be glad that Bobby was such a good shot."

Tilting her head, Gail asked, "Where was he aiming?"

"I thought his chest," said Vivian thoughtfully. "And then when Rich grabbed his leg, I realized he'd hit his thigh." She jerked her hand. "He just flicked his wrist." Vivian shrugged and went on, detailing what had happened with remarkable accuracy. It was impossible for Gail not to smile at her. "What?"

"Remember the car accident?"

Vivian blinked. "The... Up at the cottage?" Gail nodded and Vivian blinked again, the words sinking in and having meaning for her. "Yeah?" The girl sounded hopeful.

"Yeah. You can do it too." Her daughter looked surprised and abashed. "Listen, tell me the truth, will you? Are you guys really okay?"

Her daughter— no, the cop in front of her looked back at the three other uniformed officers. "Yeah. I think we are."

Gail nodded. "Smoke tasted like shit, huh?"

Vivian made a face. "Nasty shit. They checked my lungs out though. I'm totally fine." She paused and pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Battery is bone dry. Can you call Mom?"

"She knows. She was watching the news with Traci." Before anything else, before getting in her car or even questioning a single person, Gail called her wife to explain what had happened. Of course, Vivian hadn't been able to and winced. "Don't worry. I told her you fried your phone." Gail tossed over an emergency charger. "Fuel up. As soon as Rich is out of surgery, you guys should head home."

As she plugged in her phone, Vivian bit her lip. "Actually... I'm kinda wired. We all are. We were going to change and hit the Penny."

Gail tilted her head and then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I remember that. Call if you want a ride."

The younger Peck nodded and then, as they both stood up, hugged Gail. Those moments were rare, when Vivian instigated a hug. They always had been. They probably always would be. Vivian didn't say anything. Not a thank you or an explanation. She just hugged and accepted Gail's in return for the moment. Then they let go and Gail nodded. It was moments like this that made Holly think Vivian was more Gail's daughter than hers. It was because they _didn_ _'_ _t_ need to talk, that Gail and Vivian could express their feelings in silence, that they seemed closer.

But it wasn't really true. When Vivian needed to talk, it was always to Holly. When she needed to unload her feelings and understand things, that was for Holly's ears. Gail was needed for other things. The same things Holly needed her for, in many ways. Both Holly and Vivian needed Gail be the rock. They needed someone who would survive the darkness and be there for them to fall apart on.

And Gail needed them for the exact same reason. They were, all of them, strong and capable in different ways.

She watched her daughter sit back down, taking a cup of coffee from Jenny who was being earnest. Gail was strong in the dark and the unknown. Vivian was strong in the storm. Holly was strong when it all fell down.

Pulling out her phone, Gail tapped and called her wife. Holly answered right away. She always was there when Gail needed her. "Hey. You okay?"

"I am. I love you."

Holly exhaled, saying so many things in that sound. "You sure you're okay?"

"Our kid is going to unwind with a few drinks tonight. And she's probably going to need you later."

"Ah." Holly sounded understanding. "Rodney's going to do the full autopsy on Ms. Reynolds tomorrow. I was going home."

"Want me to come home first?"

"Hm. No, you'd just have to leave to finish. Once you're home, I'd really like to have you for 24 uninterrupted hours."

Gail smiled. "They all pled guilty. Lawyers think we'll have my part done, except the trial, tonight. And Viv is benched for at least the rest of the week. So."

Holly made an amused noise. "We'll see. If the kid needs moms, we may stay."

"I was thinking she could come to the cottage too," said Gail, drawling her words. "You know the place isn't _just_ so we can have hot and heavy sex."

Her wife laughed. "Touché. Try to get home tonight?"

"I will. My very intelligent wife taught me that the whole point of having minions was to make them work all night and come in and snatch up all the credit."

Holly laughed again. "Also documentation. Which is why you'll be done fast. You've written everything up, haven't you?"

"Chance favors the prepared mind," joked Gail, throwing one of Brian's quotes back at her. "But really... I love you, Holly. I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, honey."

The phone clicked off and Gail smiled. She was damn lucky to have her family and she knew it. Looking at what had happened to the Zanaro clan, she wondered if that was what the Pecks were headed for before she upended their apple cart. Were they self-destructive and suicidal? Most definitely.

They sure as hell weren't now.

* * *

Two beers in and Vivian finally felt like she wasn't twitchy anymore. It wasn't enough to get her drunk. Just enough to make her calm. Because Jesus tap dancing Christ had the day been weird.

"So." Lara sat down and poured Vivian a full glass. "Jenny can't figure out how to score today."

Blinking, Vivian looked over towards the stupid board. "We all kinda sucked," said Vivian.

"Sucky heroes. They wouldn't let us in on the raid."

Jenny scowled as she sat down again. "I don't know. Maybe we just net a zero for the day."

Christian sat beside Vivian and nearly put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't know why. You guys did great."

"For captives," said Lara. "Oh and we're why they had to kick the raid up a couple days..."

Actually. Vivian cleared her throat. "If you think about it, Bobby found the guns so their timetable was going to be upended anyway." They all looked at her. "What?"

"So we screwed everything up and saved everything?" Lara looked skeptical.

"Pretty much. Let the old guard sort out your scores. I'd just give us all the net zero."

Jenny snorted. "You don't even like the scores in the first place."

That was true. "I don't," agreed Vivian. "I don't put a value like that on what we do."

Both Christian and Jenny, her fellow legacies, had the grace to look abashed. "Why _are_ we cops?" Lara looked thoughtful as she asked.

"Because." Vivian sighed. "Some of us are on a power trip. Some of us are idealists. Some of us are a little crazy. And some of us are broken and trying make the world less shitty."

Her friends stared at her. Lara hesitated and started to ask, "Which-"

"Doesn't matter," said Christian, cutting her off.

Jenny nodded. "He's right..." She got up and walked over to the board, unpinning it and rolling it up. When she sat back down, she held it out to Vivian. "Keep or chuck?"

"Don't ask me, my mom's a minimalist." Vivian sipped her beer.

"Chuck." Jenny bent it in half a few times until it was a broken lump. "We should try to be better cops, not screw around with scores." She sighed. "Don't know how we'll sort out drinks."

Lara smiled. "I do. I bought the last round. Viv got the first. Christian had the second. Next is yours. And Rich can buy for a week when he gets back."

"I'll drink to that." Vivian tapped her glass to Lara.

Jenny did the same. "So wait, are we allowed to call you Viv now?"

They joked about things like that most of the evening. The old guard came by to check on them, buy drinks which Vivian put on her tab for later, and there was even a little of karaoke. Vivian finally was feeling less jittery and more relaxed. As they got closer to a time when it would be smart to go home, Christian sat next to her at the then empty table.

"Hey." He gestured at her glass. "Need another?"

"No. Thanks. I was thinking about going home and sleeping for 36 hours."

Christian nodded. "No kidding. That must have been scary as hell."

On the tip of her tongue was the pithy remark that she'd had worse days. Vivian just nodded, though. "It was. Glad Rich is okay, though." They'd stayed until he'd come out of surgery and woken up, which was surprisingly fast. Rich had been cranky as hell, but he was going to be just fine.

"Never thought you'd say that," said C with a grin. "Abercrombie asshole."

"Yes, but he's our Abercrombie asshole." Vivian grinned back. "If you'd been there, I bet we never would have gone in, in the first place."

Christian smiled. "Maybe. I just... When I heard the gun shots. I worried."

She blinked. "What?" He looked actually scared. "Worried about what?"

"About you. You know you're my best friend, right V?"

Vivian stared at Christian. She was pretty crap at friends. "Thanks, Christian. But I'm okay."

The man nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I just... I had this fear. Y'know? That you'd die before I told you."

Grinning, Vivian put her glass down. She was sure she was missing something. "Told me? C, you're my friend, you can tell me whatever."

Pale and nervous, Christian nodded again. And then he leaned in and kissed her.

What the absolute fuck?

Vivian shoved him away and knocked her glass over as she got to her feet. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth. The amount of wrongness that had just happened couldn't be measured.

"I needed- I had to, Viv!"

She gaped. "You are ... You're an idiot, Christian!" She shoved him in the chest, hard, as he moved closer again. "God. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I love you!"

The Penny had quieted in the moment and everyone was staring at them. Great. And worse, it started the stupidest argument Vivian had ever been a part of. Jenny seemed to think Christian's declaration was romantic, while Lara was pissed he just kissed her. And the other non-rookies, but still the new guard, they seemed to be fairly divided on the matter.

As Christian reached for her arm, Vivian snapped. "Don't you dare," she said, her voice a snarl. "Don't you fucking dare touch me, Christian. You're my friend, but I swear I will forget that in a heartbeat."

"God, stop being a Peck, Vivian."

Now. It was possible Christian was just trying to make a joke, to defuse the situation. It didn't work. Vivian bristled. All year long she'd been finding out exactly why Elaine had been against her being a Peck, how sharp that stupid sword was, and how people looked at her because she had chosen to be one. It was the last straw. Here was someone who should have understood, but was throwing it at her. And when he caught hold of her right wrist, Vivian turned.

Her left hand came up in a snapping jab, the kind Holly had taught her to help train Christian just a few months ago. The fist nailed Christian in the nose hard, square on. Blood spurted out and he staggered back. Her hand started to sting immediately. "Screw you," said Vivian, snarling.

Lara moved towards Vivian. "Woah, hey, Viv. You-"

"I'm going the hell home." Vivian grabbed her jacket. "Don't call," she shouted at Christian, who was holding his nose. Ignoring the shouts of Jenny, who was calling out her name, and Lara, who was trying to find out if Vivian was okay, she stormed out of the Penny. Not a single person had the balls to stop her in what Holly would no doubt call 'full Peck mode.'

She'd cooled off by the time she walked back to her bike. The anger at Christian was gone, replaced by annoyance at him and everyone else. Even if she _had_ been interested in him that way, grabbing someone and kissing them was not cool. So what if she broke his stupid nose? Why the hell would Jenny take his side?

Why were there even sides to this? Ugh. She kicked at the slush on the side of the road and walked into the Division parking lot. Her helmet was in her top box, safe from the weather, and her bike had its cover on. Cover. Helmet. Then home. Maybe her moms wouldn't mind if she wanted to get blitzed. Drunk sounded nice right now. Drunk and safe and sound. She yanked the cover off and winced. "Fuck."

Her left hand was swollen already. Never hit them in the face like that. That was what Gail had said, and then told her about the time she'd punched Nick. It had sounded funny at the time, and now it felt prophetic. Crap her hand hurt. Using the clutch was going to be a bitch. The cover wasn't too wet, so she folded it up and popped the top box to put it in place of her helmet.

Just picking up the helmet hurt. Ugh. This was going to suck. Vivian tried to start the bike and shift into gear and her heart sunk. "Shit. Shit. Shit." She turned the bike off and wanted to bash her head into the wall. Not only had she punched her best friend in the city, she'd fucked up her hand.

It was enough to make her want to cry. Instead, she pulled her phone out and tapped a number. "Mom. Can you pick me up at the station?" Vivian knew her voice was quavering. It probably wasn't making her mom feel better.

To her credit, the only thing Holly asked was if Vivian wanted to leave her bike at the station or not. Vivian hesitated and Holly said she'd be right there. Thankfully, no one came by and Holly did show up remarkably fast. In a taxi. "Give me your keys."

"Thanks," mumbled Vivian, handing over a helmet as well.

Riding back on a bike meant they couldn't talk, which was just fine by Vivian. The moment they walked into the house though, Holly hugged her. Then her mother slapped her shoulder and hugged her again. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," said Vivian, and instead of trying to squirm away, she hugged Holly tightly. "I'm okay, Mom. I really am."

"You called me to drive you home and you're not drunk. You had a hell of a day. And you were almost crying on the phone, Vivian. I love you, you're not okay." She held Vivian at arm's length, studying her face seriously. "You look like Gail."

Vivian wasn't sure what that meant. "Okay?"

"You look a little tired. And a little sad. And a little relieved." Holly tilted her head. "And like you want to get drunk and I should probably hide the scissors."

That was all true, too. Except for the scissors part. "Right now I'm just tired, Mom. And sore." She held up her left hand.

Holly frowned and plunked Vivian on a stool, sitting across from her. "What happened to your hand?" She took a hold of it and gently probed the damage. "Who did you hit? Gail said you had your lungs cleared at the hospital."

Vivian stared at her hand as that went on. It was already dark and swollen. "Oh. Yeah, they're fine. I bruised the hell out of my hand on Christian's face."

Her mother scowled more. "You punched one of your best friends?"

"Yeah..." She exhaled. "Can you be secret keeper Mom who's my friend?"

Still inspecting Vivian's hand, Holly was gently bending fingers back, watching as Vivian winced. "Do you want me to twirl my hair and chew gum?"

It made Vivian laugh. Neither of her mothers were girly in that way. "He kissed me."

The hand poking stopped and Holly stared. "What? And you cold cocked him?" Vivian nodded, a little morosely. "What ... The hell?" Holly got up and got an icepack out. "Why the _hell_ did he kiss you?"

"He was worried about me. So at the Penny, y'know, we were unwinding. I didn't want to come home all wired. And he kissed me." She shook her head. "I really don't understand boys."

"God, do not try me either," said Holly. "What a tremendous asshole move there. What did he think, life was a movie?"

"He is not the guy I'm gonna fall in love with," said Vivian firmly.

Her mother smiled. "You couldn't use the clutch could you?"

Vivian shook her head and let Holly wrap the icepack to her hand. "No, and I wanted to cry."

"You have tomorrow off, so at least there's that." Holly kissed her forehead and went to make her something to eat.

Since she'd been with Rich when he'd been shot, Vivian had longer than a day off. "I have a week," she said. "Off. Andy said it wasn't negotiable. Which is probably as big a word as she knows."

Holly snorted. "Don't be a Peck," she said, admonishingly. "Nothing's broken, but you're going to feel like shit tomorrow."

"Makes me glad I hit him with the left." Vivian test clenched her fist a couple times.

"Leave it alone," Holly scolded. "Next time aim for something softer. The gut."

Vivian grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

Holly rolled her eyes. "You're coming to the cottage with us tomorrow, then. As an apology for not coming home right away."

"Sorry. I wanted... I don't know. It was just nice to be normal for a bit." She'd wanted to be teased and congratulated and have her back pounded. Vivian wanted to get told off by Nick and Andy, then cheered by them for being a cop. She wanted... She wanted to be normal for just a little while. "Of course, then C kissed me, and I hit him, and now everyone probably thinks I'm a bitch and a Peck for turning him down."

Her mother sighed. "Or maybe just a raging lesbian. Honestly people are such idiots."

Vivian smiled. "You're pretty cool, Mom. You know that, right?"

"Not to sound all Gail, but I had figured that out." Holly smiled back. "Well I guess that answers that, though."

"What? The is Viv gay question?" Holly nodded at her and Vivian made a face. "It was _gross_. It just felt all ... It felt wrong and weird and awkward. And not like the time I kissed that girl and she slapped me."

Holly laughed softly. "That was interesting. Carol, right?" That had happened at the Penny. Vivian, at twenty-two, had been flirting with Carol all night and thought Carol was flirting back. There had been knee touching, lip looking, and Carol had leaned in to her. "I think you should avoid kissing at the Penny, Viv."

"I should just be a nun." Vivian sighed and put her head on the table. "Can I drink?"

"Bourbon or ice cream?"

"¿Por que no los dos?"

When Gail came home, they were on their second bowl and Vizzini was arguing with Inigo about the best way to defeat the Man in Black. "Vivian, why is your bag still here?"

"Uh... Oh, because forensics has my gun and my badge is in my pocket." She pulled it and held it up. With a thanks, Gail took the badge and headed upstairs. "Rule one. Always safe your gun."

Holly shook her head. "Why do you guys lock up your badges? I never asked..."

"So people don't steal our badges and pretend to be us." Vivian yawned. "Didn't Mom tell you about the time someone stole her spare uniform?"

"There are a billion Pecks in Toronto," said Gail, grumpily. "They had to pick me. I'm still shocked no one yelled at me about it. I have a headache. Who has the bourbon?" Vivian handed the bottle over with her right hand. "Uh, junior. What happened?"

"She banged it up at the Penny," said Holly. "Sit with me, Gail."

Never one to argue about those things, Gail poured a glass and settled in next to Holly. "Fine, don't tell me. Where are we?" She looked at the television thoughtfully just in time to see Inigo swear on the soul of his father.

As one, all three recited the next line as Westly spoke: "Throw me the rope."

Sometimes all you needed was a night with your family.

* * *

The sun warmed the bedroom and Holly stirred. She loved the way the light came in through the cottage windows. Smiling happily, she rolled over and found the bed devoid of her wife. That wasn't as happy making. "Gail?" Holly sat up and found her glasses, sliding them on and letting the world come back into shape and form.

No one was in the bedroom or the bathroom. Holly sighed and lay back down, listening to the sounds of the house. Animals on snow. The creak of wood. The crackle of a fire. She inhaled and smelled something sweet. Ah. Gail was up and baking. Maybe she should go back to sleep.

They'd been up fairly late, the three of them. Vivian, giving in to parental pressure, rode with them in the car and actually drove much of the way. She'd inherited her mother's distaste of Holly's winter driving. But they enjoyed the drive, singing along with music older than their daughter, stopping at the store for supplies, and then settling in to the cottage with a fire and some good whiskey.

The singing went on for a little while longer, mostly from Vivian and Gail who actually could carry a tune. They talked about sports and the opera and things they all loved (like _Doctor Who_ ). By two, Vivian went to bed, claiming she needed to catch up on sleep. Gail and Holly had stayed on the couch a little longer, watching the fire and enjoying just being together in a quiet moment.

When the fire burnt down to embers, they went upstairs to the master suite and, under the warm quilt that Holly's grandmother had made years ago, reacquainted themselves with each other. It was cold, even with the heat on, and any time they weren't actually under the covers it was worth squealing over. Though that was mostly Gail.

The cold didn't bother Holly. She was too busy reveling in the sensation of Gail's smooth skin against her own. She got lost in the taste of her wife, the smell and sound of the woman she'd been married to for nearly twenty years. And in moments like that, in moments where she was consumed by the weight and power of her feelings where there was only the outward expression of physicality... Well you could've dropped a bomb and Holly might not have noticed.

She smiled, thinking about how Gail had played her body like a virtuoso played a violin. And damn Gail for introducing her to the beauty of classical music. But damned if she wasn't right. Damned if she wasn't good. Gail was a natural lesbian. She may have only slept with one woman, Holly, but she'd sorted out things in rapid order. Holly grinned at the various memories of things Gail had been found to be skilled at.

A rap at the door caught her attention back to the now. "Mom?"

"I'm awake," said Holly, yawning and putting dirty thoughts to the side.

"Ah, but are you decent?" The door cracked open and Holly saw a coffee mug held up.

"Vivian. In this moment I have never loved you more." Holly grinned and sat back up. "I'm also not the nudist in the family."

Vivian laughed as she poked her head in. "Yeah, that's still funny. I mean, you're a doctor. Naked people are just naked people."

"Speaking of my wife, where is she?"

"Cooking." Vivian bumped the door open and came in holding two coffee mugs.

"How's the hand?"

Vivian looked at it as put the MOM mug down on the nightstand. "Okay. I can probably ride my bike without wanting to cry now." She sat in the comfy chair with her own KID one. The newest mug in the collection had been a present from Oliver.

Newest. It was over fifteen years old. "Why are you up?"

"Mom woke me up."

But Vivian was dressed in winter running clothes and thick wool socks. "Liar. Where'd you go running?"

"Just around the lake a bit." Vivian sipped her coffee. A small, five or seven kilometer run, depending on her route.

Holly inhaled the scent of the coffee. "Even I take a break up here, kiddo."

Her daughter shrugged. "I wasn't up all night having sex." She smirked at Holly and looked very much like Gail in that moment.

"It wasn't _all_ night." Holly smiled. "You know, you could bring a girlfriend up here, if you wanted."

"That would involve keeping one for more than a couple weeks, Mom," said Vivian with a sigh. She tucked her long legs up, hugging them with one arm. "Beth dumped me. By text."

Holly tilted her head and studied her daughter's face. Even if Vivian had grown up to look like her own person, which was inevitable, Holly still saw herself etched in the smile and the way Vivian laughed. The eyes, though, they were all Gail in the way they studied everything. Right now they were looking out the window, a little lost in thought.

"You know... I don't know what the right reply is here, honey," said Holly at length. Vivian startled and looked at her. "I want to tell you I really don't care if you never find anyone or date, but I do."

"Do want me to find someone or ...?"

"Well. Not to be all Gail, but sex is pretty awesome, and I think you share that opinion." Her daughter laughed. "Right. Thought so. I just ... I want you to be safe and healthy and happy."

Vivian's expression softened. "Mom. I am." She paused. "Okay, _most_ of the time. I am happy."

It was always so hard to see on the outside. Just as hard on the inside, Holly had learned. "You look like you need a hug."

From the doorway, Gail spoke up. "I wouldn't. She smells like nasty sweat. Have you noticed that all the special running gear reeks more?"

"Thanks, Mom." Vivian laughed.

"Any time, kiddo. Bagels are done." Gail sat next to Holly and leaned in to kiss her. "Morning." Her voice was soft and almost tender.

Holly couldn't help but smile. "Morning." Gail smiled back and brushed hair away from Holly's face.

"Okay, if you guys are going to be all sappy and look at each other like that, I'm going to shower."

Kissing Holly again, Gail turned. "Look at each other like what?"

"Like you haven't seen each other in months. It's really annoying." Getting up, Vivian kissed Gail's cheek and then Holly's before heading back out. "But... Never stop," she said as she reached the door. "I mean it."

Holly smiled. "I know, Viv." She kept a hand on Gail's thigh. While she still worried a little about what her daughter would become, where she'd be in another year or two, what kind of woman and police officer she would be, it wasn't something to be answered today. "Go shower. And figure out what you want for your birthday, huh? Twenty-four's a big one."

It was Gail who winced. "Oh no. No no, my child is not almost quarter century!"

"Give up, Mom. You're fifty." Vivian sang as she headed down the stairs. "Gaaaaaail Peck is fifty, she's ooooold."

The singing went on and Holly smothered a laugh as Gail looked horrified. "She's your daughter."

"This is your fault, you know," said Gail, complaining half heartedly. "You wanted to get married so we could adopt."

"Pretty sure that's not how I presented it." Holly finished her coffee.

Taking the empty mug out of Holly's hand, Gail grumbled. "Pretty sure it was." She leaned in and kissed the side of Holly's neck, sending shivers down Holly's spine. "Now that we're alone, you wanna work on child number two?"

Holly burst out laughing and shoved Gail away. "You are insane, Gail." She got out of bed and heard her wife groan and flop onto the mattress. "I want to shower, brush my teeth, eat some breakfast, and then be absolutely, utterly, totally, lazy."

"I just want to be naked." Gail was whining.

"Showers involve nudity, Peck."

There was a pause and, as Holly went into the bathroom, she heard the bedroom door shut. Holly smiled and got out of her sloppy sweats and into the shower. There was all the time they needed to figure things out.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of 'season one' of my sequel.
> 
> I do have season two written out and it's slightly less Vivian centric. The first season had a lot more groundwork to lay to make her a fully fleshed out person. Season two has another season long case, but also some successful romance and some plots that have been requested (like what happens when Vivian gets hurt).
> 
> But in many ways, this question is up to you.
> 
> Do you WANT to see what happens next to everyone? Is there anything in particular you're interested in?
> 
> Either way, there's a break coming up and I'll be posting a different story as a 'summer' filler.


	11. 02.01 Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine welfare check turns into more when a body is found at the Allan Garden's Palm House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Season Two**
> 
> No, it's not one year later. It's been almost four months since the Three Rivers and the Hill gangs collapsed, however. Things are going as well as you might expect for everyone. Vivian's 24th birthday has come and gone, celebrated quietly with family. But it's April now. And soon it will be Holly and Gail's 20th anniversary. Let's kick into season two!

Springtime was Holly's favorite season. It was the glorious time in the end of April, between Vivian's birthday and Holly's, a scant 6 weeks before her wedding anniversary, where there was absolutely nothing familial hanging over them. Spring meant she'd take half days twice a week and garden. Lily had emailed a layout for the year, with a list of what to grow and why, and Holly actually enjoyed the work of gardening.

The sun was shining, the breeze was a little chilly, and yet Holly was humming as happy as she'd been in months. Happier. The seasons changed and she knew her mood did too. More sun outside meant her body felt lighter. She slept better. She was less touchy. She smiled more. Holly sighed and looked up at the sky and her house, smiling.

She loved her house. While Holly had adored the townhouse she'd bought, and while she and Gail had made it their home, the roominess of the house they had now was so welcoming. It was the right size for them, and likely still would be after Vivian moved out. If she moved out. And if not, well, that would still be okay.

Lately Vivian had been making mentions that she was thinking about moving out. They were the same sorts of subtle remarks Viv made back when she wanted to change her name. Holly stretched and thought about that. Their kid wasn't direct like Gail, she was more of a sneaky thinker who dropped random hints before a big one.

Hadn't that been how it went with the name? It started after Matty had gotten beat up. Vivian had made a passing comment about how it was good to have Peck backup, and she was glad Gail let her help. "Sneaky girl," muttered Holly and she knelt back by her project.

The flowers were going to make the yard beautiful. They were bright colors. Gail always wanted to plant food but they didn't have the time to do that. Maybe when she retired she could grow vegetables. Up at the cottage. Gail would never want to retire up there, though. She liked it as an escape from the city. The one place the Pecks never ruined for her.

Holly smiled. She liked the cottage too. Gail hadn't explained how big it was, practically a house, when she had first told Holly about it. A small cottage by the lake. Right. It was almost the size of their house, on the lake, with a dock and boat shed and miles of quiet land to roam when they wanted. And the Pecks had owned the land for generations.

Sitting on her haunches, Holly studied the layout of the flowers and frowned. Something was wrong.

"The red ones go on the left."

Startling, Holly fell to the side, catching herself with one arm. "Jesus _fuck_ , Gail, don't do that!" Holly's heart was thudding like mad and she had no idea how she'd not jumped out of her skin. Scowling, she looked over her shoulder and saw her impish wife sucking on a smoothie.

"Sorry." Gail held out a smoothie. "Green machine?"

Damn it, Gail knew her well. "Help me up, you asshole."

Gail put the drinks down on the deck and she gently tugged Holly to her feet. "Hey, sweetheart." The smile on Gail's face was irresistible and Holly sighed and kissed her. "They do go on the left, though. Your mom sent me the layout and the list. I've got the fertilizer."

She looped her arms around Gail's neck. "Thank you. You're still an asshole."

"True." Gail smiled and rested her hands on Holly's waist. She inhaled and smiled more. "It's going to be very colorful this year."

"Well. Mom's coming out next month."

Gail made a face. "Happy anniversary. Can't we run away and hide?"

Their mothers had planned the party. Gail wasn't really keen on it. "Twenty years. Not a chance. We have a party. We have a nice hotel room. Work on kid number two."

Smothering a laugh, Gail kissed her. "There's this hot doctor who told me that isn't how it works."

"Doesn't mean we can't try." Holly let her voice linger teasingly. "Want to help me plant flowers?"

"Only if that's a euphemism." Leering, Gail kissed her once more and let go. "I'm going to finish up a report and then cook dinner. I sent our minion out to get ingredients. Grilled apricots, burrata, the rest of the ham from last weekend, sliced real thin. Something light. If the arugula looks good, that can go with it. Oh and bread."

Holly watched Gail saunter back inside and smiled after her. Impish, puckish, silly. Gail Peck could be annoying and frustrating. But she always made sure Holly knew she was adored. "Love you too, honey," called out Holly, picking up her smoothie.

"I know! Your bag of shit is in the garage."

Shaking her head, Holly sipped the smoothie before moving the red flowers to the other side. Gail was right, that looked better. The fertilizer came last, pouring it on the way Lily had taught her years ago, and Holly finished as the sun was dipping downward and her daughter came outside to start the grill.

"Looking nice, Mom. I like this year's layout."

"Thanks, kiddo. How was your shift?"

Vivian shrugged. "C swapped with Lara again. I can't believe Andy is just letting that go. I mean, Jesus, it's been months."

Holly sat on the wood chair and exhaled, feeling every second of her age. "Honey, you broke his nose."

"Yeah, well." Vivian grumbled under her breath. She'd eventually told Gail what had happened. The blonde had sighed and said that he was lucky all Viv broke was his nose, but she'd been inclined to let Vivian work through it on her own. Which meant it had been three and a half months since Vivian had spoken more than a few words with her former closest friend in Toronto.

As a 'replacement' friend, Lara had been filling the void. If Viv wasn't off doing something ninja like with her ETF friends, she was hanging out with Lara and, by extension, Jenny. The girls had become friends, and that was nice, Holly thought. Jenny had actually come over to the house, on her own, to apologize about taking Christian's side in the Penny. No explanation, just an apology.

They didn't like coming over to the house, Vivian's new friends. Apparently Gail was intimidating and so was Holly. That was funny, to Holly at least, but it meant Vivian was out a lot more. And in many ways, that was also good. She was finally coming out of her shell.

"Yeah, well," replied Holly, smiling. "Where is your mother?"

"Cursing at someone in her office."

That was never good. Holly tapped her watch and drew a frown face, sending it to Gail. In return, she got a smiling pile of poop. Everyone's favorite. Then, however, she got an 'On my way!' Good. "She's almost done. I need a beer. You?"

"Eh, sure," said Vivian with a heavy shrug.

Holly levered herself up, stretched, and then hugged her daughter. "Hey. Stop being the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, honey."

The girl leaned into the hug for a moment. "Sorry. I only came in super deep and thoughtful. Maybe Vivian 2.0 will be more fun."

"You're plenty fun," said Holly firmly. "You're just really serious all the time and I love you, but you should come down from your tree once in a while."

Vivian made a face. "Run wild? Sleep around? Get a tattoo?"

Holly laughed. "I would love to see Gail's head explode if you had a tattoo. She still thinks mine are weird."

Pausing, Vivian turned to eye Holly suspiciously. "You have a tattoo? Scratch that, you have _multiple_ tattoos? How do I not know this?"

"Gail's the nudist." Holly shrugged. Her tattoos were the result of Lisa's horrible influence. They were also small and in places that were covered even by her most daring swimsuits and, unlike Gail, the only time the hot tub was enjoyed naked was if they were at the cottage alone. At least the content of the tattoos were tame.

Rather than talk about nudity, though, Holly got the beer as Gail arrived with the food to be grilled. She watched her two Pecks banter and harass each other, like they did, about cooking. Gail wanted to sauté the arugula in a pan on the grill, Vivian disagreed, and yet they ended up doing it Gail's way.

Her not so covert watching was interrupted when Vivian spoke up. "Mom's totally checking you out again."

"I have a fantastic ass," agreed Gail, smirking. "She used to check my ass out when I was in uniform."

"Ew. Mom's a badge bunny?"

Holly grinned. "Don't worry, I find your mother as attractive in her uniform as out."

Before Vivian could voice her views, Gail spoke. "And you've seen the calendar. Holly in that lab coat is ..." She sighed loudly. "Kid, your mom is hot. Sexy librarian is _totally_ my thing."

Smiling fondly, Holly mouthed 'I love you' to Gail. Vivian signed something faster than Holly could read and Gail smacked her shoulder, laughing. "Not at the table," Holly said, admonishingly.

Her Pecks were a never ending supply of amusement at least.

* * *

"Hey I saw your ex," said Lara as Vivian parked her bike.

"Which one? I seem to have a collection of them." Vivian tossed the cover on her bike.

"The nurse. Beth. Some chick was dumping her at Dripz."

It was wrong, but Vivian smiled. "Please tell me she threw coffee in her face."

Lara looped her arm through Vivian's in the friendly way. "No, but she called her a cheating bitch."

"That helps." Vivian wriggled, getting herself free. "Don't hug me."

"See, you need to get over that. Cuddle."

"Pecks aren't cuddly," said Chloe, bounding up behind them and hugging them both. Because she was Chloe and that's what she did.

"This isn't how I communicate, Sergeant," complained Vivian.

Hugging her again, Chloe let go. "I need to borrow your bestie, Peck."

"Have fun." She waved at Lara who mouthed 'save me' as Chloe dragged her off. Vivian grinned, thankful that whatever Chloe's scheme de jour was, it didn't involve her. Oh she liked Chloe just fine. The woman was warm and kind and endlessly patient when it came to coaching Vivian through her brief foray into acting back in high school (amusing note: neither Gail nor Holly had any stage experience at all). But Chloe was a lot to take in. Even now, at nearly fifty, she was exuberant and bubbly.

Still grinning and thinking about what she'd avoided, Vivian turned to the lockers and caught Christian's eye. He scowled and looked both annoyed and guilty at the same time. Then he rushed into the mens' locker room. Ugh. Men.

It was the same at Parade. Rich looked oddly apologetic when he sat down on the end of the table. He'd taken her side for what he said was an obvious reason. Vivian saved his life. That was an exaggeration, but she let it go. She didn't think there were sides to be taken, either. C had been an idiot. She popped him one. All he had to do was apologize and she would and then it would be done. Weren't boys supposed to be simple?

Rich pulled out his log book. "Hey, where's Volk?"

"Snagged by Price for more surveillance." They had all done a stint lately. It most consisted of them running coffee and being asked weird questions. Vivian was pretty sure they were all being checked out for the inevitable detective rotation. It would probably be autumn before the slot opened up.

"Glad it's someone else's turn." Rich shook his head. He and Chloe didn't get along.

McNally walked in, ending casual conversation. "Okay, boys and girls. It's springtime. That means what, Fuller?"

"Uh. Spring break?"

Andy smiled. "Yes. Which means anyone who can't be out on the beaches is going to be drinking it up here. Plus this week is Friday the thirteenth _and_ a full moon, so watch yourselves."

While Rich scoffed, Vivian sighed. He eyed her. "Come on, that's a joke, right?" Vivian shook her head and Rich looked worried.

"Assignments are on the board. Serve, protect, enjoy the sunshine." Andy rapped the podium and dismissed them, walking over to the side to talk to Traci about something.

Vivian flipped her log book closed and stood up, checking her assignment (patrol with Christian). The conservatory was open again, though, so at least that was on her patrol route for the day.

She turned to look for Christian only to have Jenny pop up in front of her. "Guess who's swapping?"

"Again? He's such a child." Vivian shook her head. "McNally okay with it?"

Jenny nodded. "She said you guys have to work it out on your own."

"I'd be happy to, if he'd talk to me."

"I don't think punching his face is talking." Jenny mimed a punch and grinned. When Vivian flipped her off, she just laughed. "Come on, grumpy Peck. You can drive."

That helped a little. "Alright. I'll buy coffee."

At least it was warm enough to just wear a long shirt and the vest. The jacket had a tendency to be both too hot and too cold. They could not, of course, ride around with the windows down. Yet. Soon it would be warm enough. Then it would be too hot.

They drove up and down the patrol area, keeping the peace. While it was spring, it was quiet. "This feels like it's going to be another boring day." Jenny grumbled and looked around.

"Oliver said if the day is boring, we did our jobs right."

"I liked Oliver," said Jenny. "How do you know him so well?"

"He was Mom's TO, and then partner sometimes, and Sergeant, and then Inspector." Vivian smiled. "He's basically my uncle. His oldest two kids used to babysit me, and I babysat his youngest."

Jenny was quiet for a long moment. "Holy crap. Hashtag shocked."

"You and Lara need to stop that shit."

"You aren't even on Facebook, are you?" Jenny was teasing.

Of course, Vivian was, but she barely used it anymore. After Matty had been bullied, she kept the hell off it and so did he. "Social media. Great way for people to learn about you."

Jenny waggled a finger. "This is why you're single."

"I didn't ask your opinion on my love life."

"Or lack thereof." Jenny smiled. "Sorry, not my business. But what is, is you are really good at picking out dresses."

Vivian glanced over. "Is that code for 'Vivian please come over tonight and help me pick out a dress for my internet date?' Because you could just ask."

"You do not speak girl," said Jenny. "I mean, really, are you sure you're a lesbian?"

"Being a girl does not give me a great insight on them." Vivian sighed. "Fine, but I want beer."

"Beer and a story after. And yes, I met her on a dating website, which you should try."

"Was it cops-only dot com?" When Jenny blushed, Vivian laughed. "That's the one John- Sgt. Simmons used to find his girlfriend."

Jenny was surprised. "How long has Silver Fox Simmons worked for your mom?"

"With, twenty-one years. He was her first partner as a D." Like Oliver, John was an uncle. Seeing him terrified of Elaine had made him more likable, Vivian remembered that.

"You were really screwed, weren't you? There's nowhere they don't know you."

"At least they like me," said Vivian, smiling.

"You're cryptic, quiet, keep to yourself, and barely say anything about yourself. Doesn't that drive them crazy? I mean, God, the surveillance with Price?"

Vivian grinned. "We have history."

It wasn't like Vivian minded that she was permanently tied to everyone at Fifteen. There was something protective about having them there, forever. It meant she would always have a place.

Their radio crackled. "Officers needed at Allan Gardens."

"We're right there," noted Vivian, turning the car.

Jenny picked up the radio. "Dispatch, 1508. We're less than five out."

"1508, copy. Report is a homeless man sleeping under the ... Some flowers. I can't read that. Sorry."

Laughing, Jenny responded. "Copy, Dispatch. Flowers it is." As she hung up, Jenny smirked. "I kind of miss Tassie. Remember how she used to pronounce things?"

"She nearly got us killed, Jenny. There was no way she was keeping that job."

"I heard she was working at St. Pats now."

Vivian shuddered and she parked the car. "God I hope not." They got out and turned on their body-cameras. As they walked to the conservatory, Vivian lingered by the plaque mounted on a wall. _Special thanks to Dr. Lily Stewart_. Every time Lily was in town, they came here to look at the various new plants.

"Hi," smiled Jenny at the security guard. "You rang?"

The guard and a docent explained someone was sleeping in the Palm House, and proceeded to give them directions. "In the Palm House? In this weather?" Vivian made a face. "That place is muggy in winter."

"You don't know the zoo but you know the plant house?"

"My grandmother's a botanist. She worked here sometimes, before she moved to Vancouver."

"Is ... Is like everyone a doctor? On that side of the family I mean."

Vivian nodded. "Yep. Up to here with Dr. Stewarts." She held a hand above her head and Jenny laughed.

They went into the Palm House and Vivian led them to the spot where she could just make out a dirty jacket. Jenny did too. "Hi, sir," said the other officer. She glanced at Vivian and squatted, reaching over.

The man surged, scaring Jenny into landing on her ass. And then he laughed. "You fell! Hah hah hah! She fell!"

Vivian smirked. "Cute." She held out a hand for Jenny. "You know you can't sleep here, sir."

"Bah," grumbled the man, sitting back under the plants. "I like it here. Better than the street."

"Really?" Vivian looked around while Jenny dusted herself off. "It's humid, it's kinda rank. I mean, have you smelled the flowers over there? The ones that smell like dead bodies?" She shuddered.

"Smells better than the piss in the alleys," countered the man.

"You have a point." Vivian grinned. "But. We gotta kick you outta here. You know that."

He crossed his arms. "I'm just gonna come back. Spend days here. It's safe. No fucking college dicks screwing with you."

And he had another point. Jenny sighed. "I'm not saying you're wrong."

"But you're gonna haul me out? Arrest me."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Come on, man. Name a place. We'll take you wherever you want to go. Any shelter. Train station. Whatever."

"I hate trains. Shelters are full."

Aha. "I got that," she said to Jenny and took a few steps away to radio that in. While Jenny continued to chat with the man, Vivian called dispatch to find her a spot in a shelter nearby.

It was harder than she liked, finding a place for the man to sleep for the night. In a way, it would be both easier and harder if he was a veteran. But the system was just overloaded. It was terrible. The longer she talked, the more the homeless man laughed. "She can't find a place," he cackled and pointed at her. "Dumb Dyke."

Vivian pointedly ignored it.

"Peck..." Jenny sounded worried.

"I'm on hold with a place up the road."

"No, not that. Do you smell that?"

Vivian blinked and looked at Jenny, confused. Smell? She shook her head. "Just plants." Vivian inhaled deeply.

So did the homeless man. "Not again! Those shits!" He surged to his feet and reached into the plants behind him, pulling out a smoking cart. No. A burning cart. There were flames.

"Holy shit! Uh, call me back, please!" Vivian hung up on the secretary at the shelter and shoved her phone into a pocket, slapping her radio with her free hand and calling in the fire.

Jenny grabbed the homeless man to pull him away. "For Christ's sake, it's just _stuff_ , let it go!"

"It's all my stuff!"

Of course he cared. Of course Jenny didn't understand. She hadn't spent six months living with all her belongings in a pair of bags. And then another three wondering if the women she was living with were really temporary. How long did she get to be at the nice house with nice ladies who were silly. No. Most people didn't understand when 'just stuff' was all you had.

Where were the fire extinguishers? Vivian turned and remembered Lily telling her that they used sprinklers. Of course. They had to. The plants were rare. And there had been a fire a million years ago, back when photos were sepia by default and not some shitty filter. That was when they rebuilt and put in fire suppression methods. Vivian looked up. The sprinkler was out of reach. By the time the fire was high enough, they'd be screwed.

Faucets. There had been one where they walked in, but Vivian remembered... Watering. She ran for the door to the utility closet. No time to ask for a key. She put her whole weight into the kick, splintering the door easily. Well it wasn't meant to be super secure.

Vivian grabbed the hose, making sure it was hooked into a spigot, turned it on and dashed back, uncoiling it as she ran. As soon as the water caught up with her, she covered the nozzle with her thumb to aim at the cart full of stuff. Hopefully the man didn't have any paper or electronics in there...

By the time the fire department came, the smoke was dying out and the homeless man was thanking them for saving his stuff. Very little had been lost, and Jenny was tying to make sure he could keep it.

"Hey, officer?" The fireman, a burly guy, looked worried. "Can you come here?"

Vivian glanced at Jenny and walked over. "Sure. What's up?"

The fireman pushed back the curtain of palm fronds and showed a well dressed young man, preppy and clean cut, and very dead. "That... Is a problem."

"Yeah," sighed Vivian, reaching for her radio.

She never thought she'd miss Tassie in dispatch, but right now she sure did.

* * *

"It's probably good Noelle retired," said Traci as she handed the report over to Gail. "She was pathologically terrified of fire."

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Fire? No wonder she never came to the cabin. Why are you working this case anyway?"

"Last homicide." Traci shrugged and looked out of Gail's windows. "You sure?"

Smiling, Gail flipped the report open. "I'm sure. Oliver's been giving me shit about not doing this for years anyway."

Traci looked suspicious. "Steve was never going to go. It didn't matter."

"That too." Gail frowned. "Why aren't these on the network? Can that be your last job as homicide lead? Finish the modernization?"

Her friend smiled. "Unlikely. I've been making all my rookies for the last ten years do input. We're nowhere near done with the backlog."

"Still the fastest way to learn the system." Gail skimmed the report, her eyes stopping on a name. "Peck and Aronson hauled the homeless guy out?"

"Yeah. Someone set his stuff on fire. I'm waiting on the video feeds, but it feels like some prank gone wrong."

Gail flipped through the pictures. "College kids? School's almost over. Can't be a rush."

"Graduation pranks?"

"Okay, there is that." Gail paused and frowned as she saw graffiti. "Who the hell... If you find out who did that, I'll give you a raise."

Traci laughed. "I thought that came with the promotion."

Smiling, Gail leaned back. "Inspector Traci Nash, head of Guns and Gangs."

"You really think Zettel can do the job?"

"Not as good as you, but ... You've been using him as your sergeant for five years, Traci. Gotta cut him loose and let him run the show. Besides, it's not like we're making Duncan head of anything."

They both laughed. "Okay, fair point." Traci sighed. "Zettel, head of homicide. Do you think this is how Ollie felt when you got promoted?" Of course Oliver had been their inspector when Gail had been put in charge of OC.

"Probably." Gail didn't really feel afraid though. She'd seen people come and go now for twenty five years. No. Forty years. She'd been ten when her uncle, Bill's brother, had died. That had been the first time she'd been to an End of Watch call, and the first time she'd seen someone take over a position. It had been her mother, not her father, who took over the position of head of homicide.

Elaine hadn't been ready at all. Now, with retrospect and all her experience, she remembered the look in her mother's eyes, and Gail knew it was fear. The mighty Elaine Peck had been scared to take over homicide. Gail had been scared to take over Organized Crime. Traci was scared to take over as head of Guns and Gangs. Hell, even Holly had been scared to take over of Chief Medical Examiner.

"You ... You look so calm about all this, Gail. I remember when we were scared to death rooks."

"Oh I'm still scared to death, Trace. Every day I think someone's going to realize I have no clue what the hell in doing." She smiled. "Until then, though, I keep doing the best job I can."

Traci smiled. "That's good advice. When did you get so smart?"

"Around the time my kid stopped being a teenager."

They both laughed. "Oh god, yes, teen years are the worst," agreed Traci. "Leo took the job in Texas."

Gail blinked, surprised. "Wow. He's leaving?"

"Yeah. Three months."

"Crap. We'll have to find someone to rent the place... You don't think Sophie will want it?"

"She said not." Traci shrugged.

For their college years, Sophie, Winnie, and Leo had made a _Three_ _'_ _s Company_ home out of the loft that had once been Bill Peck's. But then Sophie went to grad school at Stanford and Winnie took the oil job up north. Leo had technically been living there, alone, for a few years, but even he was barely home. The odd computer job he had sent him all over the world and, apparently now, to Texas. While Sophie had moved back, she was living and working with her friend Kate from her foster days.

"Good for him," said Gail decisively. "I haven't a clue what he does, but good for him."

Laughing, Traci gestured at the folder on Gail's desk. "Well, I'm waiting on your wife to ID a half charred preppy boy. Maybe I can send Rich undercover."

"Chloe called dibs. She's planning a sting." Gail couldn't help but smile a little maliciously.

"Ooooh, who gets to be the boy toy?"

"Probably Rich. He's got the look. I think Christian could pull it off if he tried. Dirty him up a bit."

"I want photos of your kid as a hooker."

Gail snorted. "As much as I think she'd be good at it, unlikely. She's too ..."

"Butch?"

"That. Which sucks. She'd be better than McNally."

" _Anyone_ was better than Andy at that," agreed Traci, smirking. "God she was so terrible at undercover. Then ..."

When Traci paused, Gail nodded. "Then she spent six months with Nick... Wasn't that fun times?" Six months when Andy fell in love with Nick, who was supposed to be dating Gail, who had abandoned Gail when she needed him. Not that she'd been capable of asking him, to be honest. "Jesus I was a hot mess then."

"You'd had a shit year," Traci said softly.

"Couple of 'em. What the hell good came out of that?"

"Me." Traci smiled at her. "We got to be friends."

Gail laughed. "Wow, and people say I'm the vain narcissist."

"Well you _are_. I'm a realist." Traci grinned. "And an optimist."

"An optimist wouldn't be freaking out about taking over Guns and Gangs, Traci." Her sister-in-law flipped her off. "Fine! Fine. How's your last homicide going?"

"Thank you. Back logged. What's going on in the ME's office today? Rodney said no autopsy till tomorrow if I'm lucky."

Gail hesitated. Well. Traci was about to be her right-hand-man. "There was an archeological find this morning. A mass grave, looks like from the early 1900s, so Holly thinks it's from the Influenza outbreak. Which wouldn't be a big deal except we found it because of a relatively fresh body. So they have to run trace on everyone _and_ check if any other bodies are modern."

Admittedly it was incredibly cool, or so Gail thought. Holly had been very excited about it at lunch, launching into full on babble mode. But the longer Holly's day got, and the more work she realized would have to be done now, the grumpier Holly became. She'd been trying to get a grant for the lab and this could make or break her.

"Oh wow." Traci was appreciatively shocked. "I'll make sure no one gives her guys shit."

"Appreciated. I don't know when I'll see my wife next."

"Meanwhile my husband will have a nine to five job and no extra hours."

Now Gail flipped off Traci, smirking. "No offense, I'll keep my wife."

"I would too," laughed Traci. "Well. If I'm going to be out an autopsy for a while, I'll send the rookies to pound the street. Flash a photo. At least we have an ID."

"Contact the family yet?"

Traci nodded. "They're not local so they won't be here to positive ID him till tomorrow."

Gail nodded. "Take the rookies and make 'em pound the street. Elaine would tell you that's why they're there."

That meant Gail was the first home at the end of the day. She made homemade Chinese food; pepper steak and brown rice. It was food she knew would re-heat well. As it cooked, she read over Traci's case notes. The dead body was weird. He was dressed wrong for the season and he wasn't in a make-out place. Too close to the nasty smelling plants.

When a bushed Vivian got home, Gail asked her about the location and she too admitted it struck her as odd. The only person who liked the smell of those plants was Holly, who loved corpse flowers. Why the Stewart family had been surprised that Holly was a pathologist, Gail would never know.

But Vivian had also spent more of her day getting the somewhat asshole homeless man they'd found to a shelter, and making sure he had clothes. Then Vivian made a passing comment about how living out of a bag wasn't comfortable before she went upstairs. Sometimes Gail forgot that her kid had spent half a year as a foster kid. Sometimes she forgot Vivian had barely unpacked at their townhouse for months.

That Vivian, the quiet little girl who called her Miss Gail and who barely smiled, felt like another person. It was like rookie Gail. No. Goth Gail. She was a bitch and a half. But then again, it was like how she didn't feel the same after Perik. Nothing had ever really felt the same after that, mused Gail as she boxed up lunches. That one moment, that one second where the door hit her face, and the world was totally different.

The same feeling had struck her the first time she'd hugged Vivian. Really hugged her. Like the world had shifted and there was an new order of things. She no longer was afraid of the world for her own sake. There was someone she had to protect and treasure at the risk of everything.

And then there was the moment in interrogation when she kissed Holly. That too was a moment where everything changed. It had been building for weeks, almost months, where Gail had felt a craving to be with the one person who made her feel ... She'd said that to Holly once, early in their friendship, and innocently Holly had asked "Feel what?" When Gail had shaken her head, Holly had just smiled and went on with the conversation.

Did Holly look back on that moment, that sentence, and realize what had been said? Or did she just take it on faith now, after almost twenty years of marriage, that it was what it was?

Gail tapped her watch, sending a heartbeat to Holly.

There were so many ways to say "I love you" without having to say the words that, even now, were a struggle to voice in public. In private was another matter. Alone, in Holly's arms where it was safe, it was easy. Even in their home it should have been easy. But it wasn't. They were words Gail honestly didn't remember hearing growing up. She couldn't recall her parents saying it to each other, let alone her.

So was it a surprise that Gail often faltered when trying to say, to show Holly that she loved her? The watch and it's stupid heartbeat, making a photo set of their youth, cooking dinner, getting the car cleaned, buying the wine she loved, changing the sheets, wearing her favorite nightie. Love. Sometimes that was easier.

Her watch pinged her back.

_I_ _'_ _m running late. Obviously. Science moves at its own pace. I love you too._

Gail smiled at the message and sent back a note that she understood, and dinner was in the fridge for when Holly got home.

It was hours before Holly got home, exhausted and grumpy. Gail was actually in bed reading when her wife dragged herself upstairs. She watched the doctor all but stumble through a shower and into her sleepwear and, finally, into bed. Holly mumbled a comment that was half a curse at work and half an endearment for Gail, and she was asleep in moments.

It was adorable.

Gail pulled the sheets up and over Holly's shoulder, putting her book down and curling up around the brunette. Her arm fit perfectly over Holly's waist, her body matched the curves right, making their position incredibly comfortable. The smell of Holly, the warm, oddly citrusy scent that wafted off her, was soothing.

Closing her eyes, Gail nestled in and relaxed.

When she woke up, the sun was peeking into their bedroom and Holly was toying with her hair. "Hey," whispered Gail.

"Hey." Holly kissed her shoulder. "Good morning." Warm and soft, Holly was pressed up against her back, her fingers moving from Gail's hair to her arm and then her side.

Enjoying the sensation, Gail closed her eyes and smiled. "Feels nice."

Holly didn't reply. She kept caressing Gail's side and arm, fingers gently traipsing along the fabric until she found Gail's collar and tugged it down to kiss the bare skin. It was early morning and Holly was amorous. This was not unusual. This had never been unusual.

Well. No. The first time Gail had woken up to the adventurous and roaming hands of Holly in the morning, it was surprising. Morning wood was a phenomenon she'd been familiar with and had taken advantage of on some occasions with boys. It was entirely unexpected from a lesbian. So from that end, yes, finding herself at the delightful mercy of Holly at four in the morning was unusual back then. It wasn't anymore.

Of course, it was still very much delightful, just as much then as it was now. When Holly sighed and slipped a hand under the hem of Gail's nightgown, it was very much as welcome as it had been those years ago. Holly knew her so well and especially how to make her burn, long and slow. It took a little longer to rev up their engines these days, but God, Holly was good at that.

In very little time at all, Gail was reduced to very small words. She tangled her hands in the sheets and Holly's hair, holding her wife close as she shuddered and gasped. "Morning," whispered Holly, stroking Gail's hair as she came back down to earth.

Gail exhaled a long breath. "You said that already."

"Seemed familiar." Holly's lips were soft on the curve of Gail's jaw. "Were you awake when I got home, or was I dreaming?"

"Awake." Gail shifted to her side and smiled. "Morning." She reached up to brush Holly's hair out of her face. "You were bushed."

"Mm. Archeological cases take a long time." Holly's brown eyes drifted closed as Gail began to return the attention that had been paid to her. "Remind me to call my mom later," asked Holly. Promising to do so, Gail eased one hand under the elastic of Holly's shorts. "Much later, oh, that feels so nice, Gail." The hands that had been exploring her moments ago were now gripping Gail's back and nightgown tightly.

And Holly cursed softly, the good way, as her back arched and her body tensed. And then it let go and Holly laughed her delight softly, like she often did. Smiling and laughing as Gail kissed her. "I love you too," said Gail, gently pulling her hand out and snuggling up along Holly's side.

Holly laughed again. "I needed that," she said, eyes closed and the goofy smile stuck on her face. "God, I needed that."

Yawning, Gail checked the clock. They had another hour at least. "Sleep, morning person. One more hour."

"One more hour," agreed Holly, snuggling close.

* * *

Sometimes the break in a case was when you expected to see one thing and yet you found another. Holly was used to that, frankly.

"Hello," she muttered as she studied the neck of the dead preppy boy on her table.

"Is that a good hello or a bad one?" Traci Peck (née Nash) walked in with the smell of coffee.

"Good. He didn't die in the fire." Holly pushed her glasses back up her nose with the back of her wrist. "I mean, fire is not on my list of preferred ways to die. The smoke and the burns? Nope. I'm for something quick or at least while drugged out of my mind." Holly tilted her head to focus on the discoloration. "Of course, being choked is not high on the list either. No signs of a struggle... I wonder if he was drugged. Well, we'll have tox reports soon enough. I put that in for you last night before I went home."

Track said nothing. To the point that Holly looked up, confused. Her sister-in-law was holding up her phone and had it aimed at Holly. "Thank you," said Traci, grinning.

"I'm not even going to ask." Holly shook her head. The Pecks all had a penchant for recording her talking.

"Probably wise. Is there a painless way to go?"

"Not so far as we're sure. It's not like you can ask people as they die to rate their pain."

The detective sighed. "So. Choked?"

"Yes, by a wide cloth. Maybe a scarf." Holly looked again and then pressed the floor pedal to raise the table.

Traci made a noise. "Woah! When did you get that?"

Grinning, Holly tapped it again. "Last month. It's my favorite new toy."

"Do all the tables do that?"

"Just this one. For now. It's not in the budget to update them all." But everyone liked this one. Holly loved it. Since she'd installed it, she hadn't needed to see her chiropractor or schedule a massage after every autopsy. "There wasn't anything that matched this bruising pattern in the evidence. But I heard there was a homeless man?"

Coming over for a closer look, Traci explained, "There was. But there was no trace evidence ... I hope. You have all his stuff, and young Peck got him a place to sleep. She's convinced he's just a victim of the latest economic downturn. But he's a bit of an asshole. Apparently he was making some homophobic rants, and she just ignored them."

Holly shook her head. "Gail had words about that, I'm sure. I didn't get home until late."

"Yeah, I meant to ask how the archeological find went." The brunette held up the coffee. "Gail implied you'd be home late."

How she loved her Peck. Holly smiled. "An understatement." Pulling off her gloves, she took the coffee and sighed happily. "The night shift didn't find anything that matched ... Did you interrogate your homeless man?"

Reading from her phone, Traci nodded. "We did. Wentworth Grey. Former CEO of an investment firm based out of the city. When the market crashed the last time, he lost everything. Apparently he put his eggs in one basket. He sold what he had left to send his kid to college and then walked off, living homeless and doing odd jobs. Claims he's happier now, except for the random college student who screws with him."

They both looked at the dead body.

"It's possible it's a retaliation killing." Holly frowned. "I don't think so. This looks... Less."

Traci shrugged. "You see more of these. I defer to your judgement. And, since we have no tox report yet, is there any reason for me to be here?"

"Besides the excellent coffee? No. Though thank you."

"Thank your kid. She caught me on my way over. Very un-Pecklike."

Holly smiled. While most people might see that as non-standard Peck behavior, it was how both her peculiar Pecks expressed a range of emotions. After Traci left, Holly texted her daughter a thanks.

The autopsy was inconclusive. No secret hard drives or mini SD cards hidden in the body. There was no special information to be gleaned from his bones or the trace evidence found on him. When the tox report came back, Holly made a face, surprising the computer tech who'd just finished with her computer. Upgrades. Always upgrades.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?"

"No. Nothing like a healthy dose of horse tranquilizers to knock a person out."

The tech looked a little horrified. "Horse tranquilizers?"

"Welcome to my world." Holly sighed. "Thanks. Looks like everything's working. I'll let you know if I have a problem with the monitor."

Taking his cue for what it was, the tech left and closed the door. Holly read through the results carefully and called Traci. "Anything good for me, Doc?"

Holly tapped her keyboard. "I'm sending you the tox results. Horse tranquilizers. The good stuff. Hard to get in large doses, but you don't need much to take out a person."

"Would a vet tech be able to snag it?"

"Probably, but they don't have it at any places in the city."

"I'll run a search," said Traci with a sigh. "Parents will be here this afternoon."

Holly winded. "Let me know when you have a time. I'll clear my schedule."

"Thanks, Holly. You're my favorite."

Laughing, Holly hung up and bent to the part of her job she liked the least. Paperwork was such a bore. But she had reviews and evaluations and budgets and proposals and a million other non-science things to do. It was her curse. She wanted the job, after all. Maybe Gail was the smart one, staying at her spot and refusing the promotions.

It was hours later when a niggling thought wriggled its way to the forefront. She put aside the budget review and pulled up the information on her dead body from the influenza mass grave. They'd classified it as 'modern' but that really was just in comparison. The other bodies were around a hundred and this was maybe thirty at most.

They'd X-rayed the body, looking for breaks, and Holly clicked through the images to find the skull. And she stared. She knew that pattern. She'd seen it before, many times, on an series of unsolved cases. The blow was behind and from the side, crushing the back of the skull in. The weapon was round, but not a bat or a lead pipe. Holly had experimented with the CSIs on a hundred weapons and items, trying to find it.

But ... Where was the car? There was _always_ a car. Or ... She frowned. The current case, the one she had with Traci, had a man tanked on horse tranquilizers. The mass grave was near the stables the police used for training. "No way..." Holly grabbed her phone. "Rodney, did you make any headway on the bones that didn't match?"

That had been a big problem, and something they'd tasked the newbies with. Match the bones to make bodies. It was time consuming and hard and Rodney was in charge of that.

"Hello to you too, boss. Yeah, we have a collection of them. Why?"

"Look for a horse or a bicycle maybe. Probably about as old as the modern body we found."

"Uh... Will a motorized bicycle do?"

Holly almost dropped her phone. "Please don't be kidding me, Rodney."

"Never! Well, not about work. Your wife is fair game."

"Rodney!"

"What? What? One of the interns found a busted ass ancient scooter. Didn't I update... No. Hang on. Lemme update the case files with the map. The CSIs are insanely nit-picky. They mapped out everything."

"Is this your way of telling me the scoot was by the modern guy?"

Rodney hesitated. "I hate when you do that mind reading thing."

Holly fist pumped. "Check out the skull fractures."

The sound of typing prefaced Rodney's curse. "Are you shitting me? This guy!?"

Before Holly could answer, her phone buzzed. "Shit. I have a viewing... Match it up, treat it like one of those and see if you can pinpoint a date. I think we have victim zero."

* * *

Vivian was used to Gail getting a little crazy when it came to convoluted cases. Generally Holly was more methodical and quiet. At that moment, there were case notes strewn across the living room floor when Vivian got home. "Do I want to know?"

"Not related to your case," said Holly, sitting on the back of the couch and staring down at her papers.

"Oh. Good. You looked ... Distracted at the ID." Vivian had been grabbed by Traci to come with the family on the identification of the young man she and Jenny had found dead. Dale Taft.

Holly looked up, stricken. "Shit."

"Nah, I don't think anyone but me or Traci noticed, Mom. We know you." She peered down at the papers and caught the name 'Peck, V.' on one. Craning her neck, Vivian read the date. "Your head basher?"

Making a noise of agreement, Holly nodded and pointed at the top left. "1986. Bicycle. Different weapon, but it matches the ones from the rest of the 80s and 90s." Her finger gestured to the row at the top. "Second row, 2000s. We're on to cars now. It's not until row three, 2010, that it looks like what I'm used to. Since then, 2020 and 2030, we get four deaths a year, max, usually only one."

Vivian's mind boggled. "Hold the phone. Mom, you're saying this is ... Jesus this is older than me? There's no way, that guy's be-"

"More than one perp," Holly noted. "The purple tabs indicate a blow delivered by someone between five-ten and six-one, depending on swing. The green are from someone about five-six. Orange ... Orange is for when I can't tell. The victim was in a position that implied they were sitting or lying down." Her mother started to point at each folder, describing the differences between the blows and the strange similarities.

It was interesting to listen to Holly dissect the damage done to the skull. When Gail talked about cases, she talked about motives and behavior. Holly, on the other hand, delved into the minutia of the fractures and the depth of the damage. Her theory, developed over the years of reading and re-reading the notes, was of a group of people who performed similar, if not the same, crimes over the course of forty years.

No, it was fascinating.

Even when she watched her mother at autopsies, or the few times she'd been allowed to hang out in the labs as a teenager, she saw the teacher in Holly. Vivian was used to seeing someone explain things so she might understand the how and why. The alleles meant this. The commonalities meant that. The eye-color meant yes, it was probably that the man Andy McNally called her father was, in fact, not her biological father, but Gail had asked them to shut up about that and spare Andy for a change.

This time, Holly was talking about possibilities and parameters and probabilities. Holly explained how you could see the blow had distinct similarities across the years, at different growth periods, meaning it was the same person. People. You could track each person. And Holly had done just that. She'd labeled each folder with a letter indicating one of five people.

"But," said Holly at length. "My genius fails me. Because I don't have enough trace evidence to connect the people. The items, the blunt objects, I'm making some headway. I have to budget for the fake heads though." Holly sighed. "I wish I lived on TV, where they just always had the budget for things."

"I don't," said Vivian. "TV cops get shot at a lot more."

Pursing her lips, Holly appeared to fight a smile. "You have a point."

"I learned from the best." Vivian grinned. "Chicken and pasta? You can keep nerding out and try to find a weapon signature."

"Thank you." Holly looked sheepish, but was already flipping open a folder to compare photos.

She was still at it when Gail got home. Holly didn't even look up. "Mon singe, what is your mother doing?"

"Solving a forty year mystery. Check my sauce?"

Gail shook her head but tasted the sauce. "Oh this is nice. Which pasta are you using?"

"Rigatoni."

"Penne." Gail swapped the boxes for her. "Gotta be penne with that sauce, kid. How long has the good doctor been like that?"

Vivian grinned. "Since before I got home. She took a break to explain it to me. Did you know how smart Mom is?"

Her blonder mother laughed. "Sweetheart, your mother is the smartest woman I know." Gail poured the pasta into the water. "She's brilliant. You should try reading her articles."

Screwing up her face, Vivian turned the meat in the pan. "Mom, I actually _like_ math and I think her articles are confusing and kinda boring."

"You're a heathen. How did I raise a shy, prudish, heathen?" Hanging her head, the detective stirred the pasta.

"I'm not a heathen. I just ... I'm not interested." She wasn't going be a detective like Gail was. And she wasn't not in love with Holly, not like Gail was, so there was no draw to read and admire Holly's work. Truth told, she had read some of Holly's articles. They had been over her head when she'd been younger, and now that she could understand them, they weren't interesting.

Gail sampled a piece of pasta. "Have you thought about trying any of the rotations? With Traci going up, they should have a spot on the D's soon."

"Lara's applying," said Vivian quietly.

"Two people can apply."

"I don't want it." Vivian glanced over, eyeing her mother for disappointment.

There was none. "Good. Don't be something because you think you have to be." Gail smiled and lifted the pasta colander out of the water. "You could do horses."

Vivian snorted. "I could be a motorcycle cop."

Her mother laughed. "K-9."

"I'd be better at it than Andy."

" _Anyone_ would be better at that than Andy." Gail scoffed and dished out the pasta onto the deep plates. "Hey, Lunchbox, can you come up for air?"

The very distracted reply was mumbled. "Does it come with food and a database of impressions from various blunt objects?"

Gail rolled her eyes as she looked at Vivian, clearly beseeching her daughter with a 'see what I put up with?' expression. "Yes to the first, no to the second. Didn't the LA crime lab come up with that?"

And that got Holly's attention. "They did! Brilliant!" She pulled her phone out and tapped into it. "No I'm not calling them."

"Good, because we have rules about work at the table." Gail winked and poured the sauce on as Vivian handled the chicken. "That's a nice sear, kid."

"I learned from the best, Mom."

While Holly did tidy up her folders and join them for dinner, she was distracted to the point that Gail teasingly had to remind her to eat. Once prodded, Holly ate quickly and then apologetically excused herself and vanished into the office. "Oh my nerd." Gail's soft laughter made it sound like this wasn't abnormal.

Vivian frowned. "How come that's only new to me?"

"Holly ... Holly was of the opinion that delving into her cases in front of you would possibly trigger flashbacks. And since she's more visual than I am, she has to spread all that crap out and that could be more traumatic."

That was true. Most of Gail's obsessive work was done just by staring at the computer and reading. "So all those times she locked herself in your office? She was doing that?"

"Mostly. She concentrates differently and talks to herself a lot." Gail took Holly's plate and dumped the leftovers onto her own, digging in. "She probably still has the door open, though. I mean, you're pretty grown up now."

"Still living at home," noted Vivian, despondently.

Gail was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to move out?" The truth was Vivian wasn't sure. She honestly didn't know if she was embarrassed to still live with her parents, relieved to have their support, or frustrated at how everyone else viewed it. "I didn't move out until I was older than you. Of course, my parents didn't make me lunch."

That made Vivian laugh. "How the hell do you guys make time for all of it?"

"The things you care about, you figure out how to do it. We wanted a bigger family."

Vivian shook her head. "I do not want kids right now."

"I didn't either at your age," Gail noted. "But. Well, if things change, be open to them."

"Are you going to give me some drivel about how kids will enrich my life?"

Gail laughed. "No. But. If you fall for a women and she happens to have kids, or want them, keep an open mind." Gesturing at the stairs with her fork, Gail added, "Holly didn't want kids. And I didn't want to ever get married."

She'd heard some of that before. "How did you talk her into kids?"

"I didn't. I just ... I decided that a life with her was worth a life without kids. The only time back then that I felt alive, or really felt anything at all, was with her." Gail sighed. "I was pretty messed up, kid."

There were a lot of differences in how Gail was screwed up and how Vivian was. They came broken in very different ways. Not broken. Holly would get on their cases if she or Gail said that again. "I'm glad she changed her mind."

Gail leaned over and kicked Vivian under the table. "You are such a little brat. All smug."

"What?! I am glad!" Vivian rubbed her shin. "You're a horrible person, Mom. You know that, right?"

"So I am often told." Gail grinned and got up. "I'm going to read upstairs. Unless you want to play a game."

"I cooked, you do the dishes." Vivian got up. "And I have to be at work early. Traci wants us to knock on doors and try to find people who knew our vic."

Gail grinned. "I don't envy you the grunt work or the polyester."

Stretched out on her bed later, Vivian watched her fan make lazy circles. She liked her room. It looked out on the side yard, the relatively thin strip between houses. There were no windows on that side of the house across the fence, oddly enough. The neighbor's were an older couple with grandchildren closer to Chris and Jerry's age than her own. They were nice, though.

Vivian had rearranged her room a few times. The desk lived by the window, the bed on the side of it, bracketed by two night stands. Gail had never been a fan of kids beds. As a child, Vivian had a full sized bed. In college, she'd gotten a queen sized which just fit in the small room. It was nice to have a roomy bed, even if it was eternally occupied by her alone.

Maybe it would be best to stop dwelling. She'd been dwelling and brooding for most of her life. It hadn't really gotten her very far. What had Gail said? Live a little. Get out. Do things. Enjoy being young and free and embrace what she had in life.

Okay then. She should try that.

* * *

The fire was related. Gail frowned at the report. "Look, Shay, I would never tell you how to do your job," she said to her cousin. "But... You guys are sure?"

Across the phone, the fireman snorted. Firewoman. Firefighter. Whatever. "Sure as anything, Gail. And the autopsy backs me. The kid is a homicide, that's all you. But the fire is the same accelerant as the last one."

"Awesome. I needed a fucking firebug." Gail groaned and put her head on her desk. "Not enough data?"

"To ... What? My hose monkeys put fires out more than try and sort out why they happen."

"Which is why, Captain Peck, I'm asking you. Arson specialist."

Her cousin, a natural blonde, snorted again. "Maybe. Three fires seem related. Get your head off your desk and read the second file."

"Why? You're just going to tell me that the pattern is the same, but with three data points, you can't give me a lock down on areas."

"The old tenements."

Gail did pick her head up. "The what now?"

"The ones the city is tearing down. Gail, I made you a damn map."

She tapped her computer and pulled up the second file. "That's sketchy as hell.."

"Yeah, well it's what I got. The brand of accelerant is plain old gas. Low grade as fuck. Which they sell there. Add in the trace your wife's lab found on the hobo's crap, the stuff that didn't match, and it's the top pick."

"He's not a hobo, he's homeless." Gail frowned. "You've got four places listed here, including the bridge where drugs is trying to clean shit up."

"It's low on my list."

"We're sending the rookies undercover there soon."

Shay was silent for a moment. "Awwww is baby Viv gonna be a hooker?"

Gail snickered. "She may." The jury was out, given Vivian's height and general appearance. She'd be a hard sell.

"Here's hoping she's got a little more confidence undercover." For all Vivian was mature and responsible, she lacked personal self-assuredness in herself as more than a cop just then. "You've gotta really sell that."

"I know. But Holly keeps saying I have to let her fail at stuff, too."

"See, this is why I never married and had a kid."

"And here I thought it was because Patty was still married to that asshole when you guys got together."

Shay snorted. "Shut up. Unlike you, when this Peck says she's never getting married, she's sticking by it. Mrs. Twenty Years."

"I said no weddings. Didn't have that, as much as it pisses off Mom."

"Fair enough. We're coming, y'know. Patty will be back in town by your anniversary."

"Oh good. I like her more than you." They both laughed. "You know, Patty Peck would be a shitty name."

"Patterson's her last name, you shit." Sparrow Patterson went by her last name for what everyone agreed were obvious reasons.

"Yeah and your name is Shayne but you go by Shay. Tell me, was your pickup line about how your first names weren't gay enough?"

"I'm hanging up, Detective. Let me know if you need me to pronounce the big words on the report."

"I'll just ask my _wife_ ," Gail said blithely. The line clicked off and she laughed. Harassing Shay had become a lot more fun since Gail had sorted out she was into women. Other people might have stopped giving their cousin shit, finding out what they had in common, but Gail cheerfully used it as more ammunition for her amusement.

Playtime being over, Gail read the report in earnest and sent a copy to Traci. After all, this _was_ her murder, and she needed to know the fire was unrelated. The fire would be John's case, though. It seemed to be neither guns nor gangs, and while it was an arson and they had a group just for that, it was serial and that meant it was Major Crimes.

A copy went to John as well. He was good with long, cold, cases. It probably stemmed from his time in Missing Persons. Absently, Gail sent him Holly's work on the head-basher case as well.

That was the downside to her job. She didn't get to solve the cases all the time. She oversaw them and directed them, but Gail had to trust in the general brilliance of her people. They were, all of them, pretty damn smart. That didn't stop Gail from rooting through everyone's files and checking the status on various cases.

Just as she finished checking the last file, her phone rang. "Hello, Mother," sighed Gail as she answered.

"Hello, sweetheart. The Penny is still booked, so I've got four hotels."

Gail winced. "Mom, come on. We could just have it at the house."

"We did your fifteenth at the house. You deserve a little pomp and celebration."

"I hate both of those, Mom. I'm really not into shared experiences."

Elaine ignored her protests. "The Four Seasons, the Ritz, the Archer, the Fairmount York-"

" _Not_ the Archer." Gail snapped and she felt the tense silence on the line. "I don't care. Just pick the hotel we're staying at. Then I can get drunk."

If Elaine noticed or recognized why Gail snapped, she said nothing about it. "Fairmount. They have a lovely tea service, which I will schedule for you, along with a spa treatment."

"I'll try not to miss it."

"Again."

Gail tried to chuckle, but knew it felt flat. "I'm sorry. Hotels just... Something about Holly in hotels really turns me on."

"Oh I know." Elaine laughed tensely too. "I felt the same way with you father back in the day."

Forcing levity, Gail smiled thinly. "Is that why you and dad always spent anniversaries out?"

"Mostly. Your brother is less enlightened."

True. Steve did often complain about their parents and sex. Though Gail suddenly remembered when that stopped and her parents just didn't seem to have sex anymore. Around the time of her failed wedding. When Elaine gave Gail five years to sort her shit out. Was that when they fell out of love? Huh. "Viv's like Steve."

"Your daughter sets up roadblocks for herself that are entirely unnecessary." Elaine sighed. "She's too broody by half, Gail."

"I know, Mom. I'd hoped she'd grow out of it." Vivian had a marked tendency to dwell and brood. She spent too much time in her own heard, worried about her heart's ability to love.

"It's the opposite of you. You ran into things head first, sure your bite would protect you." Elaine made a noise. "Well. That's something I can distract myself with."

Gail snorted. "Please don't make my daughter your project. You have terrible taste in blind dates."

Her mother laughed on the phone. "Oh, sweetheart. You know why I picked those men for you."

Smiling, Gail did. "Yeah, okay, fine."

"Yeah, okay, fine." Elaine mimicked her tone. "You have been married twenty years, Gail. An accomplishment. And I adore your wife and your daughter, so I would like to throw the party you robbed me of by eloping-"

"Oh for god's sake, Mom! We were hardly talking back then!"

"And I'm a mother. I need a happy wedding related party. It's like heroin."

The laugh crept out and Gail grinned. "Okay. I give. Throw me a party. What am I wearing?"

"Slinky dress. Something tight that makes your wife forget to close her mouth."

"You're aware I can do that to her in just a t-shirt, Mom."

"A dress, Gail."

"Holly's going to wear pants."

" _Gail_!"

"Dress! I know, I know. The black one, off the shoulders, above the knee. Heels. Bright red lipstick, and _yes_ , I'm getting my hair cut and dyed the week before."

Elaine sighed. "Platinum? Must you? You have such lovely hair."

"Holly likes it best. Kinda drives her wild."

Her mother laughed. "Well I won't get in the way of that, sweetheart. I'll call Lily and work out the details."

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. Thank you for letting me fuss, dear." When Gail made a general comment of 'any time,' her mother surprised her. "I'm serious, Gail. Thank you... I love you."

This time, the moment of silence was less tense. "I love you too, Mom," Gail replied quietly. They hung up and Gail eyed her phone. She could count the number of times Elaine had said that to her on her fingers and toes.

She was still looking at her phone when John rapped on the door and poked his head in. "Hey, anything I need to know before I go see this awesome explanation the Doc has about the head basher?"

Gail blinked up at John. "Uh. Oh, she spent most of last night coming up with some grand unification theory about it."

"So she's wired on caffeine?"

"No, I actually convinced her to sleep." Gail smiled. "She's just in full on nerd mode. She may babble."

John sighed dramatically. "I'll take my chances." He pulled his head back and then stopped. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, just thinking." But her former partner just did that small frown thing. "What?" Gail growled at him.

"You look like it's one of those 'negative memory days' is all."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Get out of here, you asshole!"

Skittering off, and laughing, John closed the door. In many ways, he filled the void created by Oliver's departure. Gail sighed. And now Steve. July. He was going to retire shortly after his birthday. While Gail had joked that it was so he could get one last round of presents from the force, she knew it was for him to fill out that last year to qualify for a slightly better retirement package.

And Gail... Gail was not expected to retire. Everyone said she was never going to leave the force. And really, Gail got that. Besides Holly, it was the only place she felt like she belonged. Both had been a hard road, difficult to come to terms with herself. Difficult to accept she'd never be what she'd been told to be growing up. But she did like who she was now.

Gail rubbed the side of her neck and then her forehead. But her mother had to mention the damned Archer hotel. At least the Fairmount looked nothing like it. Gail had avoided fancy modern hotels like that ever since Perik.

Maybe her new self could chase the old away for a night.

* * *

"Hear me out."

John arched his eyebrows. "You sound like my boss."

"Well we've been together over two decades, John," Holly said, a little snidely. "But listen for a second."

Holding his hands up, John smiled. "Please. Science me."

Holly huffed and gestured to her wall. Where Gail had a fancy projection system, Holly's budget went to tools and not toys. Not that Gail's system was a toy. It had helped solve a lot of complex crimes, but it wasn't really something Holly needed. So she had a massive whiteboard.

"I've broken the attacks into four groups, based on injury patterns. Basically it's per weapon. Within each group, we have unique individuals identified as using what I believe is the same weapon. This accounts for the discrepancies in height, depth, and angles." She tapped the boxes within her columns. "And the lines connect individuals across groups."

"Same person, different weapons... I like how you laid this out. So ... Person A used two weapons, B did three, and you're all the way down to G. I'm creeped out, by the way. _Seven_ different people? Jesus."

Holly smiled. "I'm pretty sure A and C are dead or retired. Nothing since the nineties."

"Whoopee, five. This is... How did we not see the pattern before?"

"We were looking too close at cars. Once I opened up to bicycles and Vespas, it gelled." She sighed. "Still don't have a good lock on the weapons. I'm pretty sure the first was an old tire iron, the _really_ old ones. Except it's really short."

John tilted his head. "Car crank maybe?" He mimed turning a crank. "We're talking 1900s and the flu, right?"

Holly was surprised. "That's possible. I've never been a car person."

"When we were checking out the Rose family, I ended up looking at all their collection."

"And the BMW guys liked you better." That had been a sore spot for Gail for years. After all, her car was the one that had been blown up.

John grinned. "Give you a bone to gnaw on, eh?"

Holly blinked. "Bones. Well now that's a possibility. It would have to be a femur, though." She mimed swinging it a couple times. "Could work. And it would explain why we never could find the weapons."

"You're serious?"

"Quite. But... I'm thinking one is a horse femur."

"Okay, you better unpack that one," grumbled the man.

Holly grabbed a marker and drew two bones on the board. "This is a human femur. This is a horse. Obviously the equine is larger, but I'm thinking the top of the bone. See the shape? That would work. It fits the shapes on at least three of the weapons. And the irregularity would account for the inconsistencies."

"You can just ... You can see that in your head, just by thinking about it?" John sounded impressed.

"Generally," admitted Holly. "I see ..." She waved her hand by her head. "Science I can see."

The detective grinned. "Fucking amazing. Okay. So we have a group of crazy, horse leg wielding, head cracking, nutjobs?"

Holly nodded. "It's _possible_ that they sawed the leg in half, making two weapons. Smaller and easier to hide."

"You have four. Maybe expand the search to horses?"

"Or try and use the 3D scanners to make a model. Maybe it's degraded over time. I mean, it's bone." Holly closed her eyes and visualized how the bone might wear down. You could cure it and strengthen it, but it would still become brittle over time. How long could it last? What might you add to bone to make it last with strength? Would that leave trace on the heads and the wounds?

She almost didn't notice John was talking. "Hey, I don't mind the zone out, science lady. But. How about I expand the search and you look for whatever you were spinning up in your head? And... Maybe you have an arson specialist I can pester?"

"Wanda." She almost laughed at John's expression. Everyone except Gail had been hit on by Wanda. Discretion was not the woman's watchword, though she did take no for an answer... And she was justifiably nervous around Gail still. "Come on, she's great at it. And she'll be fresh eyes."

A grumbling John accepted this information and headed out. Holly had already tasked Wanda with the arson, and she had no more open cases on her own docket, which meant she could play with this case. Horse bones. Preserving bones. A long forgotten course in taxidermy came to mind, and Holly pulled up the new texts and read through most of it before lunch.

She was still mired in the technical details, trying to figure out what common trace to look for while still having the computer compare and contrast evidence from dozens of cases, by the time she went home. Two days of being sucked into science had gotten her rather far, but she knew she'd need to unstick herself soon. Maybe Vivian would want to go for a run in the morning, or even when she got home.

But it was Gail's car in the garage, not Vivian's motorcycle, when Holly arrived home that night. And it was Gail who had out the yoga mat in the spacious living room. For a moment, Holly just watched her wife slowly contort herself into just her hands, her legs straightened out to the side. It was impressive, and it made Holly happy that she'd given in to Gail's mid-life-crisis to knock the wall out between the living room and the great room.

Her delight was short lived as she realized the only reason Gail would be doing yoga to the point that she didn't notice Holly was that Gail was having a bad day. Quietly, Holly put her bag on the stairs and went to the kitchen. There was no cooking or baking going on. That was interesting. Holly had gotten pretty good at gauging Gail's moods based on what she cooked. Yoga and no food meant she was trying to quiet thoughts in the back of her head that were beyond unpleasant. It was either fear or anger.

Food needed to be bright and fresh, Holly decided, and she dug out tempeh and vegetables. Before she started the rice, she texted Vivian to let her know that Gail was having a bad day. Her daughter replied quickly, saying she was out with Jenny and Lara, and they're were going to get dinner.

It was nice that Vivian was trying to get out more. The girl spent way too much time inside her head, brooding. But that was not something Holly could fix for her daughter. For her wife, on the other hand, Holly could do something about. Not that Gail's problems were simpler or less complex, but Gail was able to and willing to talk to Holly about them which made them more solvable.

"I'm not a puzzle," said Gail.

Holly turned to look. Gail was in downward facing dog. "You are not," she agreed. "Want to talk about it?"

Grunting, Gail shifted to balancing on one hand and foot. "Party's at the Fairmount. Apparently there were only four hotels suitable to my mother."

Mother. Not mom. "What were the other three?"

"Ritz-Carlton, Four Seasons, Archer."

One of those didn't line up right in her head. "Didn't we stay at the Fairmount before?"

"Yeah, for Vanessa's wedding. Eli's younger daughter."

Holly smiled. "Right! And Elaine put us up at the Ritz for our tenth. And ... You know, I suddenly feel over privileged."

"I knew you married me for my money." But Gail sounded flat as she spoke. She wasn't really into the joking.

Sometimes Holly wished she had Gail's knack for reading people, between the lines. It was a Peck skill she knew Gail hated, to the point that she didn't consciously use it on people outside of interrogation. Still, after fifteen years as a detective, some things were second nature to her. Holly didn't read people well. She never had and never would.

She did read Gail well. After two decades, it was second nature to pick up the cues.

Gail still couldn't ride in taxis. She was prone to stress 'panic' attacks if she threw off her schedule too much. Especially her sleep schedule. Gail needed more sleep than she ever got. The flashes of anger had faded away over time. It had been years since the last one, and that had been after Elaine's heart attack. The Peck matriarch hadn't told anyone about it, so the call from one of Holly's friends had terrified them all.

Pursing her lips, Holly asked, "What happened at the Archer?"

Her wife was quiet for a while. Then she stood up straight, hands high over her head. "That's where I went undercover."

Oh. _Oh_. "Did Elaine know?"

"Maybe. Probably." With a half sneer, Gail added, "She forgot if she ever knew."

And Elaine Peck knew everything about her children and she never forgot anything. "I see." Holly stirred the vegetables. "Do you want to put rice in bowls?"

"Yeah." Gail did a final Sun Salutation and then resumed her petulant slouch. She wiped off her yoga mat and propped it up to dry. Finally she got out bowls. "Table?"

"If you like." Holly sampled a bit of tempeh and sighed happily. "Damn, I'm good at this dish."

With a soft puff of laughter, Gail put the rice bowls down and went to set the table. "You're insane, Holly. You know that, right?"

Holly smiled. She'd made Gail laugh a little. It wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

When a morning started with both of her mothers wanting to go running, Vivian had an indication that it had been a bad night. Holly's text not withstanding, it wasn't very abnormal for Gail to have a bad day at work. Still, neither mother said anything about it, so Vivian changed her run to a shorter route that they'd all enjoy. That also meant breakfast with her moms, which was always good, and then Gail absently asked if Vivian wanted a ride.

She took the hint.

"Is it going to be weird," asked Vivian as she got in the car. "Having Traci work for you?"

"Technically Homicide works for me." Gail smiled a little though. The smile had been rare since the night before. "It'll be interesting."

"Interesting like having me on patrol?"

"Interesting like when I get to work cases with Holly. But she needs to solve that burnt kid first." The blonde gave Vivian a meaningful look.

Ah and that was patrol's job. "I pounded pavement all day yesterday. His roommate thought he'd gone to Prince Edward Island."

Gail made a face. "That is not a hotspot for spring break."

"His girlfriend lives there, or so he said." Vivian grinned.

Her mother frowned. "A Canadian lied about having a girlfriend in Canada?"

Vivian beamed. "Right? So me and Jenny are waiting on the warrant to get his GPS data to track where he went. Traci said she should have it by today." That did not seem to surprise or concern Gail. At first, Vivian had found it strange to not get the warrant for everything (they'd had the phone calls) but apparently a data warrant meant different things, since it could give you email access and that was complicated.

"I don't envy you that. Following some guy's footsteps all day? In cotton poly?"

"You miss the joy of having your clothes picked out for you every day."

Gail flipped her off. "Make detective and I'm gonna make you go shopping with Elaine."

"Empty threat. Elaine's great at clothes shopping. Better than you."

"Hey!" Gail laughed. "I love shopping."

"For you, sure. Ask Mom. Shopping for anyone else with you? Nightmare." Reaching over, Gail slugged her shoulder. They were still laughing when they got to the station. Vivian texted Holly to let her know Gail was in a better mood and changed into her uniform before getting into the drudgery of the day.

Since Traci had the warrant, they had a map, complete with timestamps. She displayed the map up on the wall for everyone at parade. "So our Mr. Dale Taft. Lied to his parents about his plans, said he was going to Cancun. Told his roommate he was going to meet his girl on Prince Edward Island. The name for the girl is fake, but the roommate said Dale was always calling and texting. We got a number from his phone, goes to a burner."

Jenny held up her hand. "Drugs?"

But Christian had another take. "My fake cyber girlfriend."

Vivian decided she liked Christian's idea the best, but it wasn't her call. "Did he leave the city much?"

"Nope. Home and school and home." Traci handed over maps. "Aronson and Peck, you get his morning. Hanford and Fuller, you get his afternoon. Volk, you get to help find his phone based on the information from his evening."

Lara looked worried. "Help?"

"Sgt. McNally has called in some old friends from K-9."

Stifling a laugh, Vivian bent her head down and read the map. As she did, Rich spoke up. "How do we know where he was if we don't have his phone? And how do we not have the phone?"

Traci tutted. "Phone wasn't on him when he was found, and it's turned off. But all his historical data, including the stuff from his watch, told us his day. Wonderful tracking devices, your phones. Unless you put them in secure mode. Which he did as of two months ago."

Vivian glanced up and smiled sheepishly. She'd once accidentally driven Gail sick with worry because messing with privacy settings and a jail broken app not only blocked her phone from being tracked but it had also fried the memory, resulting in a dead phone and no way to answer a call from Holly. "So noted, ma'am," was all Vivian said, however.

The detective smirked. "We have the last location on the phone. We've already searched. Now it's time to sniff it out. You know what to do."

Andy, who had been silent up until now, grinned back. "Serve. Protect. Find some evidence."

And so Vivian and Jenny were walking from Dale's shitty apartment to his coffee shop. "Who the hell doesn't make their own coffee in the morning?" Vivian tugged at her coat. She was too hot in it and too cold out of it. Stupid spring.

"You don't go out to coffee shops?"

"Sure, but not every day."

Jenny eyed her. "You think this is every day?"

Vivian nodded. "Roommate said every day Dale went to get coffee at the same time. Except weekends, when he went earlier."

"Well... Maybe his secret lover is there?" Jenny leered at Vivian, making her laugh. "I wonder if there really is a girl. Or a guy. But why would they use a burner phone?"

That was a good question. "Lots of reasons. Controlling parents or, worse, a spouse." Vivian frowned a little. Her birth mother had never had a cell phone, that she could recall at least. "You can buy them with cash only. I'm sure they already tracked the number to a phone and then to the seller."

Her partner looked surprised. "Do you always think about that stuff?"

"At work, sure. It's a date killer, though."

Jenny laughed. "Really? You do shit like that on dates?"

"I try not to!" Vivian sighed and went into the coffee shop, Jenny laughing behind her.

They showed the photo of Dale to the barista, who didn't know him, and asked about the regulars. Apparently the shop was popular and they had a lot of turnover with clientele. The manager was sure they had regulars, but the small size of the shop did not lean to having people hang out a lot.

The coffee was pretty phenomenal though, Vivian had to agree. They sipped their coffee as they followed Dale's path. He'd gone to his part time job to get his check. They had nothing bad to say about Dale. A good worker, competent and generally nice. He'd shown up hungover once or twice, but he was in college.

After that, he spent an hour outside a business.

"Well this doesn't make sense," muttered Jenny, looking at the real estate firm. They'd checked and double checked the location. The GPS firmly stated he was outside the building.

"It's not a normal place to hang out."

Jenny looked up. "We could ask to see the security tapes?"

"Go for it. I'm going to check around here and see if I can figure out why he'd hang out."

As Jenny went inside, Vivian checked the map. There was room for error with these. Maybe he'd been at one of the other stores. Hopefully Jenny would get some leads on that based on the camera, but in the mean time it was up for Vivian to get the right lay of the land. A donut shop, a magazine stand, a shoe store, and a real estate firm. Across the street was a ubiquitous Starbucks, a tall office building with a wide variety of stores, a book store, and an untenanted storefront.

Vivian pursed her lips and checked the information she had from the phone. "What I wouldn't give to have his ... Oh." Vivian touched her radio. No. Her phone. She dialed the number.

"You better have a good reason," said Traci by way of greeting.

"Detective. Do we know it Taft used any of those social media things like Travlr?"

Traci was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Questable. You think his check in points would show more information?"

"The geo point isn't really clear, and I know he had no tracking on from Apple but ... Is his _profile_ public?"

"It is. Sending you the details now. You know, kid. For someone who hates social media as much as you and Gail do, you know a lot."

Vivian grinned. "Know thy enemy is a Peck commandment."

Traci laughed. "Fair enough. And good idea, Peck. If you have any more ideas, call me."

"Thank you, ma'am. Will do."

Checking her text messages, Vivian saw the link to Dale's profile. To think people were still wondering why she avoided social media... Pulling up Dale's profile, she saw check-ins at the coffee shop and, surprise, right here. The real estate agency.

"What the actual fuck?" Vivian frowned and tapped on the agency, reading its reviews. There was an incredible amount of check-ins, mostly by teenagers and college students. Why would they be going to a real estate office? Then she read the reviews.

* * *

"Free wifi? The kids were all going there for the free wifi?" Gail paused with her coffee halfway to her mouth.

Traci and Vivian were grinning. The detective Peck spoke for them both. "I didn't even need a warrant for the access logs. They were so mad, they just let us check things."

The uniformed Peck carried it on. "Turns out a lot of kids had been siphoning the fast Internet off them for months. They did their business on a VPN, so that was secure, but everything else was open wifi. And Dale and his mystery 'girlfriend' were stealing the kids' identities." Vivian made air quotes around 'girlfriend.'

Gail blinked. "You found the girlfriend!"

"Secretary at the real estate firm." Traci grinned. "Also not a girlfriend."

Vivian cut in. "Well she _is_ a girlfriend. Just not his."

Traci nodded at Vivian. "Her boyfriend thought the same thing the rest of us did. Except with the added benefit of cheating."

"Whoops. Boyfriend did it?"

"Confessed as soon as the rookies opened the door." Traci patted Vivian's shoulder. "Just held his hands out."

Gail snorted. "Criminals are idiots. Was he a vet tech?" As soon as Vivian looked offended, Gail laughed. "She's upset I'm psychic."

Shaking her head, Traci tossed the folder onto Gail's desk. "She's not psychic, little Peck. She's experienced."

"Oh," said Vivian knowingly. "She's old."

"Out!" Gail pointed at her door. "I have a meeting at five. I'll pick you up at the Penny?" Vivian saluted and grinned as she followed Traci out.

Her kid was a hoot. Gail smiled and picked up the folder, skimming the last notes. The horse tranquilizer was from the boyfriend's work. The fire was unrelated. That part bothered her. She walked around her desk to her computer and opened Shay's report. For as much crap as she gave her cousin (three years younger than Gail, making her still the oldest Peck in service to their city as soon as Steve did retire), Gail knew Shay would have made a brilliant detective.

The report brought up a handful of small cases through the city. Only a few major ones, and even then they felt like an accident. But to Gail, who had faced multiple serial killers and gangs and all kinds of losers, it felt like the beginning of escalation. It felt like the start of something.

Since she had Traci's digital report already, Gail gave Shay access to it and sent her the case number. The digitization of cases made communication so much easier. Even working with other countries was so much faster now. Gail had a special ID and a two factor code that she could use to log into the FBI and CIA. Not that she ever wanted to. The CIA gave her the creeps.

Her cousin pinged her back right away, saying just one word 'fuck.' Yeah, Shay had become Gail's favorite Peck cousin in the last decade. They'd have to dig deeper but, for now, it was enough to have the fireman keeping tabs on the case. Since they would see it first, Gail made sure to give Shay as much information as she could without having to justify it to the commish. He was annoying, a real red tape asshole.

Gail threw the map up on her wall and put the fire points as markers for an overlay in red. Then she put, in blue, the locations that Shay suspected would be next. In purple was the dead Dale Taft.

"Mr. Taft. Why were you on fire?"

Actually, why was that location on fire? That made less sense. Assuming that Taft was in the wrong place at the wrong time, which the boyfriend implied, why was the fire there? Gail rubbed her lower lip. They'd found a small incendiary device in the homeless man's belongings. The arson team, which fell under or with ETF (depending on your point of view) was still working on that.

Complex cases with unknown motives were always tiring. She sighed and added Sue to new case notes as well. It wasn't enough data to come to a meaningful conclusion yet. Lacing her hands behind her head, Gail leaned back as far as her chair would go and stared at the data, hoping it would magically come to some beautiful conclusion.

Of course it didn't. By the time she went to her late afternoon meeting with the big wigs about her upcoming reorg, she was no further along than she'd been that afternoon. To her surprise, as she went to her car with the intent of picking up Vivian from the Penny, the patrol officer was sitting on the bumper reading from her iPad.

"Aren't I picking you up?"

"Eh, C was there, picking up chicks. I didn't want to screw his game."

Gail shook her head. "You're nice. You must have gotten that from Holly."

"Sure as hell wasn't you," agreed Vivian, smiling. They piled into the car and Vivian tossed her bag in the back. "How did your muckitymuck meeting go?"

"Eh." Gail paused and grinned, realizing she and Vivian made the same sound of disgruntlement. "The post Peck shuffle is interesting. Bumping Traci makes Frankie the ranking Homicide D for my sectors." Technically Swarek should be top, but he'd been tagged in an SIU case for a violent incident with a perp on his watch, which kicked him down a pay grade. Not to mention he was Swarek and less trusted after his divorce from Andy.

Vivian made a face. "Frankie needs a girlfriend. I can't believe she hit on you _and_ Mom!"

"I hit on your mother."

"You married my mother. Frankie just wants to get laid."

Glancing over, Gail smirked. "Is she threatening to set you up again?" Vivian flipped her off. Everyone was trying to help Vivian with her love life. As one of Vivian's virtual (certainly her least virtuous) aunts, Frankie could be a little more heavy handed than the rest. "You know Lisa and Frankie went out for a while."

Vivian grinned. "Yeah, BT told me. Too much bitch factor, though."

"Truth. So why does Frankie need a girl, Monkey?"

"Because she'll drive all your Ds insane, pick fights with Chloe who I swear she has a crush on, and swagger all over like Jagger unless she gets laid regularly."

Gail made a noise and sighed. The kid was right. "Who would have thought the running of departments would depend on Anderson's sex life?"

Her daughter laughed. "Maybe you should introduce her to Wanda?"

"Ew. And they don't get along. Wanda said Franks was too egotistical."

"She is." Vivian smiled. "Luck?"

"Jen? No way, she's in the same department _and_ division. Breakups like that are messy enough."

Now Vivian made a noise. "Fine. Be smart."

Gail grinned. "Impossible to be any other way, kiddo." She pulled up to the house. "Okay. Get Frankie Anderson a girl before promoting her. That gives me ... Until August."

"Why is Steve waiting?"

"The retirement package is better if he makes it to August is all."

Vivian snorted. "It's not like we're hurting for money, Mom."

"Today, no. But never think that will last forever, Viv."

Her daughter's face was thoughtful as she got out of the car. "Is the future always so uncertain?"

"Pretty much." Gail slung an arm around Vivian's shoulder. "But that's why you keep family around." Vivian sighed and leaned in for a brief moment. "Come on. Let's get Holly to help us find a girl for Frankie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends episode one.
> 
> We're back on every-other-Tuesday schedules. See you in two! Leave reviews and let me know how you're liking things. If the ratings go down, there can always be rewrites.


	12. 02.02 Moving Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleaning out the tenements before they're torn down leads to some surprising discoveries. Meanwhile, Vivian meets a mysterious woman and Christian has things to say.

Pounding out mile after mile on the road was way more relaxing than yoga. In that way, Vivian knew she was more like Holly, because Gail actually liked yoga. Gail liked hot box yoga, and the sauna one, and she did it almost every week in a class. She did it all the time at home. Many times, Vivian and Holly had returned from a run to find Gail actually freaking meditating as part of it.

But the feeling of the world zipping by really was relaxing. Far far more relaxing. Vivian's mind was always in a whirl, always thinking about something or someone or her past or her future. The only times she'd ever shut up her brain was on a good, long run. Sadly her mothers were no longer up for the kind of run Vivian needed. Luckily her friends were.

Mostly.

Beside her, Lara was panting as they eased up and stopped for water.

"Damn, Viv, you do marathons?"

"I was on track in school."

It was weird to get along with her rookie class now. She'd never been a cool kid, not even in school, and she had worried that her tenuous grasp of popularity with everyone at Fifteen would wash away when Rich told everyone she was someone important's kid.

That had never happened. Instead, they all gave Rich shit for 'outing' Vivian and moved on. Sure, some of the other divisions treated Viv as an entitled legacy who had her career handed to her, but when they did, Fifteen stood up and told them they had no idea what they were talking about.

With the exceptions of the divisions who were used to Pecks (which was to say, Fifteen, TwentySeven, and ThirtyFour, i.e. the ones Gail had purview over), the general perception of Pecks was that they were still going to be the ones granted favors and picked over others. Which was hardly true, but whatever. And while Vivian had neither Christian nor Olivia to talk to about it, Jenny and Lara and, yeah even Rich, were proving to be pretty awesome people. Not Rich though. There were limits, and he was no Christian. And Lara wasn't Olivia.

That stupid boy. She was so pissed at both of them. Liv for deciding she was into boys and C for thinking that kissing her was a good idea. As soon as Christian wasn't talking to her, she'd feared that wouldn't have anyone in her class. The reality was, again, wildly different.

 _Everyone_ thought Christian was an idiot. Besides the fact that Vivian was a big ol' lesbian (thanks, Rich, for shouting that out at the Penny), kissing someone like that was a dick move. Everyone, every last stinking officer in three divisions who had happened to be at the Penny that disastrous night all told Christian to shut up, suck it up, and apologize when his nose stopped bleeding.

For the first time, Vivian found herself protected by a cadre of friends her own age. It wasn't just the support of Matty and Olivia (stupid Liv), it was Jenny and Lara and even Rich, but also everyone in their class across the force and most people she'd worked with. They had _her_ back.

Okay, so maybe Rich made a 'Team Peck' joke about things, but he didn't mean it like it had been said in the old days. He meant he was on Team Peck, took Vivian's side, and told Christian he was a moron.

And maybe it was in part because of her sergeant. Andy was more than willing to defend Vivian. Andy knew how little support Viv got from the Pecks, how unlikely it was for Gail to actually use nepotism, and how hard it was to be a Peck. After all, Andy came up the ranks with Gail.

Vivian had friends. Even idiots like Rich. And it was a strange feeling, a strange world, and she liked it.

"I hate you, Peck." Lara's complaint interrupted her thoughts.

"I get that a lot," said Vivian and she smiled. Sipping her water, she watched people running by. There were a lot of firemen running around, including a batch from station 451 with a rather cute woman in the mix. "You wanted to do the Toronto 5k," she pointed out.

Her friend sighed. "I am an idiot." Vivian grinned and watched a group run by. "You are _not_ looking at those yummy boys, are you?"

Rolling her eyes, Vivian slapped Lara's shoulder. "I'm not looking at anyone. I'm going to be celibate."

"Ew, that sounds horrible," laughed Lara. They started jogging again, a slower pace. "Do you think you're gay because your Moms are?"

"Do you think you're straight because your parents are straight?"

Lara blinked and glanced at Vivian, surprised. "Shit. What if I am? How can you tell?"

"Hell if I know," sighed Vivian, letting her eyes follow the really fit woman with the firefighters, quite a bit shorter than she was, run by.

"Good," said Lara, firmly. "You've barely looked at anyone in months."

She startled and stumbled. "What?"

And Lara explained, "Since what's her name dumped you by text. But almost before... When the guy ... Died. In front of you."

Vivian had to think for a moment. "You mean the guy who blew his head off? Yeah. That was a great day," she grumbled. "Beth dumped me by text. And I went out with her after that." And Mel, who barely counted.

"That was when you stopped not trying to fit in."

"Really?" Vivian blinked and couldn't figure out what Lara meant.

"Well. Not like you were doing a hot job of it before. I mean, you're not real normal. You like to pretend you're boring so people don't ask about you."

Vivian eyed her friend. "You're going to be a good detective," she sighed.

Lara smiled. "I know. But right now, I'm the good friend."

Friend. Friends talked to each other. "Hey, I had that date after the zoo."

"Yeah, with that teacher. And ...?"

And it had flopped. "She was nice."

"And she totally didn't call you back."

"She texted," muttered Vivian.

Lara nodded as if that was the answer she expected. "And yes, there was that cute nurse you made out with. I remember that." Vivian smirked. She'd gotten caught kissing her at a coffee shop. "Who _also_ dumped you by text. Have you _ever_ had a serious relationship?"

"A couple. Sort of." Vivian frowned. The last two 'serious' ones were ones she knew wouldn't last. "I had a serious girlfriend for a while. At the end of high school. We broke up when she went to Montréal." Vivian sighed. And Liv also pretty much dumped her by text. They'd talked after, but it really was the same.

"Hold the phone... You mean you and Noelle's kid?"

Vivian nodded. "Yeah, senior year thing. I'd had a crush on her for a while."

"But you're friends now."

Shaking her head, Vivian explained, "Fite Nite. She drove me home, right? And she stopped in to say hi to my Moms, only they were asleep. So we hung out for a while and then she kissed me."

Lara frowned. "Okay, why does that sound like a bad thing?"

"Because she bolted, wouldn't talk to me for almost two months. I couldn't figure it out. Night before the guy shot himself, she called me to tell me she's really sorry, it was a mistake, and she's seeing someone. A guy."

And Lara had the grace to wince. "Oh crap. A guy?"

"Yep," she said, popping the P loudly.

"I'm sorry," muttered Lara. She sounded sincere.

The stupid thing was that she wasn't really pissed _at_ Liv. They'd never successfully navigated the waters as a couple for many reasons, not the least of which was Vivian's inability to sleep well if away from home. It was just... A guy hurt a hell of a lot more than a girl. "Stewart Curse," sighed Vivian. "Nine tenths of Mom's ex-girlfriends are straight now."

Lara snorted. "That has to hurt more."

"I guess." She really didn't know. Part of Vivian had always worried that she'd fallen for Liv because she was there and safe and trustworthy. But then Liv had this big secret she hadn't told Vivian for months until boom, she had a guy she was serious about. And she'd nearly cheated on the guy with Viv. That was the essence of their romance. Always she and Olivia were on different wavelengths. Their timing had only been right for that belief period in their senior year.

"Were you in love?"

Vivian hesitated. "I don't think so." Love. She knew what love was. She saw it every day. It was love, the way Gail smiled at Holly in the morning, the way her eyes lit up with delight. And it was love when Holly teased Gail about sports, the way she sighed on the couch. "God, I need to move out."

Laughing, Lara asked, "Are they sappy at home?"

"Not really. They're just... In love. I've walked in on them making out so many times, it's gross."

They finished their lap and Lara fell on the ground, panting. "I think I'm out of shape."

Vivian smirked and watched the same, fit, girl run by. "You're good enough to pass the fitness test."

"You're a good friend," announced Lara. "Even if you're ogling that girl."

While Lara caught her breath, Vivian stretched. She didn't worry much about not fitting in, not anymore. Viv saw the world in a different way than they did for myriad reasons. She knew death, she knew loss, and she knew pain. It made her more of a private person and that came at the cost of close friendships. Even Liv had complained, multiple times, that she was too self-contained. So had other girls.

Leaning over to touch her toes, she heard a strange voice. "Your friend should stretch."

Vivian looked up. It was the fit girl. Up close, she had a ponytail of dark brown hair that kept her hair off her neck. Her skin was tan and warm. The eyes, though, they caught Vivian's attention. They were brown like Holly's, but warmer and brighter without being softer. Someone would have to work hard to have eyes that were as gentle as Holly's. The runner had eyes that reminded Vivian of rich, tilled earth. It made her remember vacations with Grandma Lily.

Oh.

Awesome. Celibate clearly was not about to happen, as her hormones cheerfully announced their presence, and informed Vivian that the girl was hot.

She felt horribly awkward. The other girl tilted her head, expectantly. Right! Words! "She's lucky she made it four miles," said Vivian, trying to be calm and quite sure it was a fail.

"I ran four miles!? I hate you!"

The runner laughed. "You look like you could go more."

"I could," she smiled back. Was the woman hitting on her? Vivian often misread signals, but she was pretty sure the other girl was flirting. And she was definitely sure she was fumbling the whole 'a cute girl is talking to me' moment. "Do you always offer stretching advice to strangers?"

"Just the cute ones. I haven't seen you here before."

Cute? The girl was hitting on her! Thank god her face was already red from running. "Not my usual route. You?"

She smiled back. "Sometimes. Running with the guys." As she gestured at the guys, one of them shouted for 'McGann' to come on. "Speaking of. Maybe I'll see you around again."

"Sure, maybe, McGann, station 451," smiled Vivian. When the woman startled, Vivian pointed at the guys. "The shirts are a giveaway." McGann laughed as she jogged over to her friends.

"Celibate my ass." Lara smirked.

"Shut up."

"That was the most adorable meet-cute ever."

"Shut up!"

She did think about McGann, the cute firefighter, a few times after that. It was the eyes that got her attention and kept them. Brown. Rich. Vivian found herself wondering if they were contacts, they'd been so alive. And the smile too. The hair needed a trim, because it had been shaggy, but the shoulders and the legs were well fit and tanned and ... Fuck. Crushing on random girls never went well.

Lara teased her as they went to parade, shoving her shoulder and taking the seat between Viv and the others. "You should have gotten her number."

"Yeah, maybe." The problem, the part she couldn't share with Lara, was that this McGann woman, no matter how hot she was, was a firefighter. And that meant her family's prejudice would be in full swing.

"Okay, people," announced Andy as she strolled in. "Good news and bad news. Bad news, we're clearing out the old tenements. Good news, we have you guys. Greenhorns, you're going to be supervising the move out."

Vivian bent her head, taking notes, while Rich spoke up, "By ourselves?"

"You don't think you're ready, Hanford?"

She glanced over just in time to see Rich pale. "No! No ma'am! I mean yes ma'am!"

Andy looked ever so frustrated. "Look, we all know we're short since Noelle retired," she said quietly. "We're going to be for a while. I need you guys to step it up, be the cops I know you are." Andy glanced over at the other uniforms. "Moore. You mind babysitting?"

"No problem, Boss," said Duncan, cheerfully.

And Vivian knew how safe the move was in that moment. Andy would never put Gerald in charge otherwise. Her exhale and relaxing did not go unnoticed by Lara, who poked her. "Later," muttered Viv.

"Okay. Assignments are on the board. Go out there, keep 'em moving, keep yourselves safe." Andy rapped the podium with her knuckles. "Peck, come here for a minute."

That was different. "Yes, ma'am." She glanced at the board and saw she was partnered with Christian for the ride. Awesome. He was probably just going to swap out with someone again. "Something wrong, ma'am?"

Andy glanced at the back of the room. "Your Moms' anniversary is this month."

Oh that! "Don't worry, Elaine and Lily are in charge. Fancy swanky thing, black tie, sexy dresses. Didn't you get the invite?" Vivian had been drafted to help address all the cards, and had cheated by using her computer.

She held up the card. "I don't know what to get them. If it was Gail, that's easy. The new Death Domain is out and I know she doesn't have it. Or tequila."

Vivian smirked. "Donate to charity, ma'am, it can't go wrong. Holly loves animals, Gail likes kids. If you pick something for foster kids, they'll love it."

"What are you getting them?"

She hesitated. "I'm going to move out, I think." Her sergeant blinked, surprised, but let her go.

Lara was waiting. "What was that?"

"Nothing work." Vivian shoved her hands in her pockets. "Who are you riding with?"

"Rich," sighed Lara. "Wanna swap?"

Vivian shook her head. "I'd rather cope with C than Officer Douchebag. Provided he doesn't swap again."

Laughing, Lara nodded. "No kidding. Jenny's an upgrade."

"I thought you liked her."

"She's fun," agreed Lara. "But on the days you feel like talking, you're a hell of a lot more interesting." Down the hall, Rich shouted that he was driving. "I gotta go. Tell me what's up with Moore later?"

Promising to do so, Vivian caught Christian's eye and jerked her chin. Lara thought she was interesting? Was that good? Was it good that Christian wasn't swapping shifts or partners? Christian tossed her the keys as they got to the car and Vivian tilted her head. Sometimes, sometimes C was a good guy, the friend you wanted and needed. Most of the time. He hadn't been lately. Four months he had been avoiding her. Now he wasn't. It was weird.

One of the good things about him was that he was still okay with her being quiet. And in turn, he was quiet. It was like old times. They worked peacefully together through the day, making sure everyone was out of the apartments, giving them rides as needed, and by the middle of the day, they were bushed and hungry.

"Want to grab something on the way back?" She leaned on the roof of the car, door open, looking around. They had to go back at lunch anyway, possibly be redeployed, and then there were more people to move after. A full day of awesome police work.

"I was wrong."

His words came out of nowhere.

"Wrong?"

"I was wrong. I do love you, but like Dov loves Gail, y'know? You're my best friend and I was worried and so relieved you were okay but I was just so, so wrong. I shouldn't have ever tried to kiss you."

Shit. Vivian slapped at her camera and stared at Christian, hissing "Turn it off you idiot!" He hesitated, then his eyes went wide as he fumbled off his camera. "Jesus, you are the thickest person I've ever met!"

"Sorry, sorry," grimaced Christian. "I just... I feel like an ass. And everyone thought you were some evil bitch, turning me down, when I was way out of line and I don't even _like_ you like that!" He groaned. "Viv, you're my friend, I was wrong, I am so, so sorry."

Vivian covered her face with both hands. "Okay. Fine. Buy me lunch."

"What? That's it?"

"No, but that's where we start."

* * *

The light from the alarm woke Holly before the sound. It always did. Light was the best way to wake up for her, though there was nothing in the world that could do that for Gail. Just as the alarm sounded, Holly tapped it off and reached over to gently nudge her wife. Who did not move.

Smiling, Holly ran her fingers across the back of Gail's neck and was rewarded with the blonde stirring. Holly never tired of watching Gail slowly come to awareness. Gail was so sweet and young looking in the morning. Innocent. "Honey, wake up," she said softly.

"No." Gail grumbled and hunkered under the sheet.

Holly smiled and kissed the side of Gail's neck. "Yes." She pressed herself closer and felt Gail move. "It's morning. You have to save the world."

"I should've taken a job that got summers off." Gail sighed and shifted around, lying on her back and looking up at Holly sleepily.

"You'd be bored." Holly kissed her cheek and eased out of bed. "Also it's spring. You'd be giving final exam reviews and prepping."

Gail groaned and pulled Holly's pillow over her face. "Can I call in sick?"

There was a knock from outside. "Moms, I'm going for a run. You guys wanna come?"

"I hate you," shouted Gail. But Holly was already pulling on her running tights. "I hate both of you!"

Holly laughed. "Five minutes, Viv."

"Right." The traditional thudding of their daughter's feet on the stairs echoed through the house.

"Why can't we get sweaty in a more fun way?" Gail whinged but let herself be pulled up.

"I think you mean a more naked way."

"Potato. Tomato."

They did all get up and dressed and go for a run, though. Gail grumbled the whole time, informing them they were jocks and idiots.

Unlike Gail, Vivian was in a good mood and told her mothers how Christian apologized and they seemed to be doing better. There was a different lightness to her steps. If Holly didn't know better, she'd think that Vivian had some sort of a girlfriend. Maybe it was just that Christian had apologized. Having a good friend, the only one who shared some of her history, meant a lot more than Vivian liked to let on.

After their mommy/daughter run, Vivian did not go for her normal secondary. Both Holly and Vivian were done with their showers first, which let them decide on a healthier breakfast than Gail was inclined to. And it let Holly play mom.

"So why are you in such a good mood?"

Vivian looked up from her phone. "Why what?"

"You, my mercurial Peck, are smiling and in a good mood. Which is rare and I'd like to see it more."

Her daughter blinked a few times. "I'm just ... I had a couple nice days, that's all, Mom."

Holly tsked softly. "Well. Alright. But if I can help it happen, I want to. That's what moms do, honey."

Smiling, awkwardly, Vivian looked back at her phone. "It's ... Well. I think I have friends, is all. Which I'm really bad at, which is not a secret. But... Y'know, we hang out and do stuff. Like Jenny dragged us dancing, and Lara wants me to help her train for the department 5k." No, she wasn't awkward. She was bashful.

So this was what her daughter was like when she actually tried to connect with people. It had taken her less time than Gail, according to the stories Holly had heard. Unlike Gail, Vivian really wanted friends. The things young Gail had craved were acceptance and love. Vivian wanted the same, but in different ways. Gail needed a home. Vivian had one. They both struggled finding themselves.

That wasn't morning chat, though. That was the sort of thing they all talked about, enjoying a beer or some whiskey, sitting out on the porch. Sometimes, up at the cabin, where it seemed talking about complicated things were easier, they'd watch the stars and voice their fears. Not necessarily as mothers and daughter, but as adults who trusted each other.

No, today, breakfast, was for other conversations.

"Are _you_ going to run in the department 5k?" Holly asked the simple question instead.

"Yeah, that's the plan. I was tossing around the idea of the marathon. You did the city one before, didn't you?"

Gail answered for her. "Five times. Five times she ran it, and she made me do it once."

Smiling, Holly leaned on the kitchen island. "I merely made you an offer you were unwilling to refuse." When Vivian made a face, Holly grinned. "Not that. She turned down that offer when I tried the second time."

"No sex is good enough to make me run a fucking marathon again, Stewart. Bad enough you two assholes make me jog in the morning."

As Gail passed by her to get coffee, Holly remarked, "Your heart and I thank you for coming with."

"Low blow." Gail frowned. Her mother had suffered a heart attack a few years prior, and it set all the Pecks on edge. "Is this half caff?"

"Sorry, Mom. I like having you around too." Vivian shrugged.

Gail scowled. "My blood pressure and cholesterol are just fine, thank you very much. You're taking away my fun."

"You want the donuts, you gotta run," said Holly. She caught Gail's shirt and tugged her closer. "I want a kiss."

"You already denied me my naked exercise." But she leaned in to kiss Holly softly. "I love you, though."

"I know you do." Holly smiled.

"If you two are doing that, I'm outta here." Vivian rinsed her coffee cup out before putting it in the dishwasher. "Love you, Moms."

Holly leaned against Gail as they watched their daughter head out. She spoke softly, "Thank you." Making an inquisitive noise, Gail sipped her coffee. "Saying yes, staying with me, making me grow."

Her wife chuckled. "You know that's not usually something attributed to me."

"Well. The rest of the world is stupid."

"Losers," corrected Gail. "Idiots."

Holly smiled. "That's why I love you, Gail Peck. You see the world uniquely."

" _That_ I've heard before. Come on, how about you drive me to work, and then we can do something tonight?"

"Tomorrow's batting cages. You and the kid should go shooting."

Gail pouted. "You don't want wifey time?"

Holly narrowed her eyes. "Did you solve a case last night?"

"Ugh, please don't remind me. I still have that fucking arson bullshit case. Trace has that gun smuggling case left over from the Hill gang. Chloe's got a pimp problem. Frankie has to get used to running the Ds and she's struggling. I hate people management." Gail put her head down on the counter. "I want to be demoted and just solve crime."

Gently fluffing Gail's hair, Holly smiled. "You're very good at it." Gail groaned. "Anyway, I have some work tonight. I need to finish my paper."

Gail sighed and looked up. "I married a workaholic."

With a smile, Holly kissed her forehead and put their empty cups into the washer. "You love my devotion and dedication to my profession. It's some of my most attractive qualities."

"This is true." Gail smiled softly. "The brains are a turn on."

Still grinning, Holly changed the subject. "Detective Peck, have you noticed that our daughter has been looking at apartments?"

Grunting, Gail straightened up. "I did. I did."

"And?"

"What? I think if she wants to move out, it's okay." Gail sighed and checked her holster. "Leo's moved out."

Holly sighed. "So you want to spoon feed her?"

"I think. I think if she asks, we should offer it. She'll feel safe, it's far enough that we have to call before we go over, and she can grow. Because..." Gail paused and smiled softly at Holly, almost tenderly. "Because you taught me to let go when people need to fly."

Smiling back, Holly walked to the garage door. "I did, huh?"

"You did. See? I told you I always listened to you."

"As long as you're not using your powers for evil," Holly said, teasingly. When Gail pinched her butt, she yelped.

"Nope, just my hands!"

* * *

"How many days is this supposed to take?"

"As long as it takes." Vivian hunched in her jacket. The cold snap of the end of April had sent her running for her coat that morning, much to her annoyance. Vivian greatly preferred to wear short sleeves.

Rich sighed. "Helping people move sucks. They throw out memories."

Surprised, Vivian looked at her partner for the day. "You sound like my Mom." Gail hated people moving. She'd barely disturbed herself to move to their house. And now Vivian was thinking, seriously, about leaving it.

"She's right. I mean, look." Rich gestured at the heap of trash piled up. It had everything from kitchen appliances to what appeared to be a cheap prosthetic arm. "This is where we're actually asking people to leave things they can't take with them. And they do! Then, then we're watching them scrabble over each other's remains. Like rats."

Vivian huffed and looked at the pile of discarded objects. "I can't argue that. It's downright depressing."

"Which is why I want to know how many days I'm stuck on this hellish duty."

And that too made sense. "At a guess, till the end of the week."

Rich groaned. "Fuck my life. This is morbid."

"You should try for the detective rotation," suggested Vivian, watching another family carry boxes out.

"No, I don't want to do D work." Rich looked at the family. "Homicide is way too depressing. Maybe ETF."

Vivian snorted. "You better hit the gym, buddy. That's the most physical job out there." She frowned as she glanced up a floor. "Hey, who checked out 214?"

Following her look, Rich studied the second-floor unit. "Aronson and I did yesterday, why?"

"I don't think anything's changed since yesterday. Come on." She headed for the stairs.

Rich trailed behind. "Why is this all open to the elements? Isn't that stupid for Canada?"

"That's why they have to tear it down. The structural integrity was weakened by having so much exposed. Caused the materials to degrade faster which is a safety issue. The early plans to prevent or slow down the collapse mostly worked, but we've had a couple cold winters. Expansion and contraction being what it is ..." She stopped when Rich tapped her arm. "What?"

"I have _never_ heard you say that much at once."

Vivian sighed. "So I hear." She rapped on the door to 214. "Police. Anyone home?" Silence. She knocked louder. "See anything in the window?"

"Nope." Rich rested a hand by his gun casually. "Kick?"

"You're always so noisy." Vivian tried the doorknob. It was open. "See?" She eased it open. "Hello. We're not here to arrest anyone. This is just a welfare check."

The place was filled with crap, but empty of people. "Jesus, people live like this?"

There was a distinct hoarder vibe to the place. Except… "I have a bad feeling," Vivian said in a low voice. She recognized something. It was the smell. Under the fetid, rancid smell of human filth (but not waste thank god) was an acrid tang.

"Clear the scene," Rich said, his voice equally quiet. When Vivian looked back, she saw he had his gun out. Nodding, Vivian drew her gun and let Rich lead. The man stepped into the living room and around the boxes on the floor. "What's on that wall?"

"Kitchen." She eased her steps to the room and looked in. "Empty."

"Bathroom and bedroom here... Bath's open, empty."

The bedroom door was closed. Rich wiped his palm on his pants and reached for the knob. "Is there any resistance?"

He turned the knob slowly. "No." Rich took a breath and pushed the door in. The greatest fear she had was that there would be a click or a thud and a bomb would go off. As a teen, Sue had told Vivian about how she met Dov, after he'd stepped on a pressure trigger. The story had been riveting to her at the time. Now it felt like a cautionary tale.

But there was no click. There was no thud. There was nothing but a rush of stench of unwashed clothes. Sweat. Worse. "Ugh, I hate organics," she muttered. One of the games she'd played with Holly was 'identify the smell.' This was worse.

"Smells like the guy's lockers."

"Seriously? You are gross."

"Whatever. It's empty. You think they just left all their shit?"

Vivian holstered her gun. "Maybe. If this is how it smells, then I would."

Rich smirked. "Hey, my place smells great."

"Still a lesbian, Rich." She looked around. "Okay. Find out who knows them?"

"I'll call it in."

Three hours later, they were no wiser as to who lived in the unit. Even the landlord just said they paid cash. "This is why the economy sucks," muttered Vivian. "And now we have to pull an extra half shift, loading their crap into the van."

Rich shrugged. "Normally I'm the one bitching about this, Peck. You got a hot date?"

She scoffed. "Helping total strangers move is not my idea of fun either."

They weren't actually doing the work. Lab interns were boxing things up, labeling them, and scanning them for drugs or other dangerous material. And the cops were there to make sure no one came back.

"Just be glad there's no backdoor," said Rich, leaning against the wall.

"You'd miss me, huh?" Vivian grinned. "Are you happy to be back?"

"Oh man, you have no idea. The desk duty was so fucking boring." Rich had been back at work five weeks after being shot, but Andy had kept him chained to a desk the whole time until February. It didn't help that he couldn't pass the fitness test easily.

After his second failure, Vivian had taken pity on him and offered to help him with the rehab. Because there were tricks to running the course. And now, weirdly enough, Rich was an okay guy. For someone who had hit on her mother. "Yeah, but now we have to do it too."

Rich laughed and reached over to shove her shoulder. "Bitch."

She shoved him back. "Ass." A kid laughed at them. When they turned, the girl covered her mouth and looked worried. "Hey," said Vivian, as casually as she could. "Don't tell our bosses we said that, okay?"

The girl's eyes lit up. "You're not allowed to swear?"

"Our boss is her aunt," Rich said, conspiratorially.

Vivian snorted. "Like that's done me any good. I still get assigned with you. I don't think my aunt likes me very much."

Their banter made the girl grin. "Is that how come you're watching Gary's place?"

A name. "Gary? No, we're watching because no one was here and they left all their stuff."

Nodding, the girl looked at the forensic team inside. "He ran 'way. How come they're wearing funny clothes?"

The best thing Vivian could say about Rich was he was great with kids. "Did you ever smell that place?" Rich pinched his nose and the girl grinned. Only Vivian knew he was the youngest of three, with two much older sisters. She'd actually met his sisters at the hospital, coming to visit Rich after his surgery. The sisters teased him that Vivian had carried him out until, at Rich's pleading, Vivian picked one of them up into a fireman carry.

"They don't want to get Gary's stuff on their clothes?" The girl was sharp.

"Actually," said Vivian. "They don't want to get their stuff on Gary's. See, we want to get him his stuff back, but no one knows where he is, so we have to use science to find him."

A hit. The girl's eyes widened. "Like trace evidence? That's so cool!"

Vivian smiled. "I know, right? I just wish it was faster."

Catching on, Rich nodded. "Totally. It's not like TV."

The girl sighed. "That sucks."

"Yep," agreed Rich. "So we gotta stand here, all night, until the place is cleared out."

Nodding, the girl turned to walk down the hall. "I should pack too." But she hesitated.

So Vivian asked the obvious question. "Where are you guys moving to?"

"We got a 'partment!" She bounced a little. "I get my own room and everything!" She babbled for a bit, telling them about the new place, which was not in the best part of town, but definitely an upgrade.

As she talked on and on, a door down the hall opened. "Anna! There you are! Mom's getting worried. Come on!" The taller girl wasn't much older than Anna, maybe a couple years. And yet it was enough to have a little cop fear. "Jesus! Stop talkin' to the five-oh!"

Vivian coughed a laugh. "Sorry, I just haven't heard that for a while."

"Better than po-po," Rich noted, keeping the casual vibe they'd been working with Anna.

"They're lookin' after Gary, that's all," said Anna, whinging.

Her sister scowled. "Mom told us not to hang out with Gary!"

"He's nice." But Anna dragged her feet over to her sister. "They're nice too. They're funny."

The sister looked doubtful. "They're cops," she muttered.

"They're people too."

The sisters vanished behind their door though. "Well, that went well," said Rich softly.

"Give it time. Kids like this, they trust differently." Trust when you didn't have a basis for it was hard. Any time Vivian really wanted to understand why she self-destructed in relationships, she could dial back and point to her childhood. There was no trust in the memories of her parents. None in the memory of the system, except for Anne and Gail and Holly...

Rich nodded and leaned against the wall again. An hour passed by and the boxes in the room slowly became fewer and fewer. "So ... I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're not Einstein either."

"I mean." Rich stopped and looked at her. "You're adopted. It's not rocket surgery."

Biting her tongue on the joke about how she'd performed surgery on a rocket once (with Holly), Vivian sighed. "Yes. That's not a secret, Hanford."

He nodded again. "You were... I mean..." He stalled again.

Vivian sighed. "I was not an infant, if that's what you're asking. I was six." She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't like talking about it." Seeming to understand, Rich said nothing. It did make things tense though. She could tell him something like how they were dead, or how it had been messy. Maybe she could tell him that her parents were assholes who broke her ability to really trust in strangers, and that was why she understood the two girls they'd just seen.

As it turned out, she didn't have to.

"I'll follow your lead on them," said Rich quietly. "You get them."

The Gail in her nature made Vivian want to joke that Rich was only saying that because he'd screwed up the warehouse watch a few months ago. The Holly in her nature made her reply more kindly. Or at least not unkindly. "When they take out the trash, we'll see them."

It took another hour, but they did win out. Anna came back out hauling a bag of trash. Vivian flicked her eyes at Rich and he nodded. "Hey, need a hand?"

Anna looked at him, then her door, and then she smiled shyly. "Thanks. It's hard to do both."

Rich grinned and opened the chute for the trash. "You guys mostly packed up?"

Nodding, Anna pushed the trashbag into the chute, which was eye level for her, and stood on her tiptoes to watch it fall down. "On TV, the CSIs solve things faster if they can narrow down the places to search. Is that real, or is that TV?"

"Real," said Rich, seriously. "The parts about how they figure out where someone might have been, based on the trace elements on their things? Totally real. Our head of forensics is awesome, too. She's made the lab the best in the country, and even better than a lot of labs in the US."

Anna stared up at him. "She?"

Awesome. Vivian grinned and let Rich keep talking. "She," he nodded. "She's my partner's mom."

You couldn't miss the hero worship in Anna's eyes. "Your mom's a CSI?"

"My mom's the CSI's boss. It's true." She turned to the intern passing by. "Isn't it?"

The tech intern, thank god, had been following along. "It's true. Dr. Stewart's why most of us work here."

Anna watched the intern walk away. "How come you're a Peck? And a cop? Is your dad a cop?"

This was not the time to get into the semantics of her parents. "Mom kept her name when they got married because she was already pretty famous in her field." Vivian paused, "And all Pecks are cops."

The girl made a soft 'oh' sound. She studied Vivian's face thoughtfully. "Gary used to give me Smarties."

Smarties? What was it Gail had said about the candies? They were good for low blood sugar after a terrible moment, like a post-adrenal rush. That was Holly, not Gail. Well. It was both. Gail knew they worked and Holly told her exactly why. And Gail loved to give them to tweakers. Meth heads. "Did Gary have a cold a lot?"

Anna's eyes widened. "How'd you know?"

Rich eyed her too. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Because my mom's the best damn forensic pathologist on the planet."

* * *

It was late in the day when a call from the lab came. Not Holly's lab. That would have been too nice. This was the other lab, the trace lab Holly had once worked in and now ruled over with a gentle hand and a wry smile. They loved her. Everyone loved Holly, and Gail couldn't blame them. The fringe benefit was that because Holly was married to Gail, they would often rush jobs for her. There was only one problem right now.

"Peck," she said into the phone. "I don't have any active cases with you guys."

"I know, Inspector. But you asked to be alerted if anything regarding the Summerland Arsons showed up."

Gail sat up straight. "You have my attention, Wayne."

The head of the trace lab was Wayne Davies. He was positively an infant, barely 30, but he was incredibly good at the work. Holly had bragged about snagging him from the LAPD. Privately, Gail wondered why anyone would give up the weather for Toronto, but to each his own. Wayne was a hockey fan.

"It's weird. You know how the old tenements are being torn down?"

"I do."

"Right. A couple of the units were abandoned which I guess is normal. One of the units had a ton of stuff left in it, and since the cops on the scene- Oh, Peck and Hanford. They couldn't find who the unit belonged to, cash only, that kinda thing."

"I can get the details on the why later, Wayne. Give me the what." She paused. "Please."

He cleared his throat. "Right. So Peck said we should check for meth or heroin in the place, based on neighbor testimony. Which we found. But we also found the same accelerants as we did in the coffee shop fire."

Gail blinked a few times. "Seriously? With meth?" The coffee shop had been the last big fire. A Starbucks that had once been a small coffee house, the place had burnt down the first day of spring break.

"Just traces of it. On the bags that held the meth."

Well now wasn't that interesting. "You think he's a middle man?"

Wayne snorted. "I just find the what, ma'am. You figure out the why."

The tenements had been on Shay's long list for locations. "What about the fire in the shopping cart?"

"Harder to tell. There wasn't enough accelerant trace left, but I'd tentatively say they're related. I'll know more when I finish running everything."

There was something in Wayne's tone that was foreboding. "How many days?"

"Guy was a hoarder."

Gail winced. "Don't work 'round the clock, Wayne. Science runs at its own pace."

The man on the phone exhaled. "Thank you. I'll try to get something for you by week end."

"I'll take preliminary if it's enough to get a warrant to search everyone there." They had enough to run a background check, but anything intrusive would need just cause. Things had gotten a lot stricter in recent years.

"Don't worry, we won't screw that up." Wayne's predecessor had, after all.

Thanking him, Gail hung up and eyed her watch. It was getting late. She tapped her watch to find Holly's location and saw her wife was at home. Crap. It was Wednesday. Gail winced and texted Holly, letting her know she was just finishing up.

There was no reply, not even by the time Gail went downstairs and found her daughter just leaving the locker room. "Hey, you're still here." Vivian looked surprised.

"Yeah, some idiot named Peck found meth."

Her daughter smiled. "Some idiot named Peck told me that Smarties are the favorite treat for meth heads."

Gail grinned. "Good job."

They walked to the parking lot together. "Are we going to the batting cages tonight or is it too late?"

Eying her watch again, Gail frowned. "Your mom's phone says she's home, but she hasn't replied to my text."

"Maybe she's working on that head whacker cases still?"

It had been Holly's quiet obsession for almost a quarter of a century, which was sort of stunning when Gail thought about it. Daunting. "Or she fell asleep."

Vivian chuckled. "She wouldn't forget her phone at home. I'll meet you there? I'm beat after a shift and a half."

"Works for me." Gail lingered, watching her daughter ride off on the motorcycle. Slowly, slowly, Vivian was inching out of her shell and settling into who she was going to be. She hung out with people, did things with others, and made friends. While Vivian was still guarded a lot of the time, she seemed to have figured out how to be friends with people.

At the house, Gail somehow managed to beat Vivian home. Her phone held the answer when Vivian texted with what she was picking up from the vegetarian place. Good kid. If Holly was working or asleep, she'd need wrangling and it was late and everyone was probably tired.

"I am going to miss that girl when she moves out," Gail said to herself.

When she opened the door from the garage, she almost laughed. Holly was curled up on the couch, dressed for the batting cages, sound asleep. Snoring. Gail took a photo and then went to put away her gun and badge before trying to wake her wife.

Sitting on the couch, she gently brushed Holly's hair back. "Hey, sweetheart. Wake up."

"Too tired," mumbled Holly.

"I know. Viv's picking up dinner." Gail rubbed Holly's shoulder. "You need to eat something."

One warm brown eye opened to look up at Gail. Holly's glasses were a little askew. "Time?"

"Almost nine." Leaning in, Gail kissed Holly's forehead. "Come on, we're not going out tonight."

Holly yawned and stretched. "Did you go shooting?"

How well her wife knew her. "At lunch. Juice or tea?" Gail got up and headed to the kitchen.

"Juice please."

They had the table set by the time Vivian got home, and dinner was a quiet affair. Knowing how long Vivian had been on her feet, and having been there herself a few times, Gail understood why her daughter was so wiped out. Holly's exhaustion, on the other hand, was a little odd. Was it just overwork?

When they got in bed, Holly didn't even want to read. She just curled up right away. "Hey, you feeling okay, Holly?"

There was a long, low, sigh, from Holly before her reply. "No."

Gail frowned. When Holly was in a funk, it could be tricky to get her to talk. She flicked her light off and lay on her side, looking at the back of Holly's head. "Stuck on a case?"

"No... I mean I don't feel okay, Gail."

It took a minute to realize what she'd said. Holly felt _sick_. "Oh. Did you take anything?"

Holly nodded. "I don't have a fever."

"That's good, I guess." Gail reached over and soothingly rubbed between Holly's shoulders. "We should have a quiet weekend. Get some sleep."

"That sounds nice," agreed Holly. "I'm just ... everything's sore and heavy."

Probably not in her head then. Depression was a nut puncher sometimes, making it hard to tell what was in Holly's head and what was real. Thankfully her doctor wife tended to be very properly descriptive and used different words to describe different ailments.

"Sounds like you're coming down with something," agreed Gail.

"Sucks. I have cool cases." Holly whined in a pitch Gail recognized. Her wife was going to be sick the next day.

She was wrong. Shortly before midnight, Gail woke up overheated. At first she thought it was a hot flash, but then she realized she was only hot on one side. "Aw, hell." Holly was sweating and looked miserable. At least she knew where Holly kept the right meds.

Cajoling Holly into taking them was fairly easy, but actual morning proved Gail's fears were close to the mark. A fever, body aches, and Holly was down for the count. At least she just wanted to sleep, so Gail left her home alone to rest, calling Rodney so he could cover for her.

"Man, Mom really gets nailed when she's sick," remarked Vivian as she kitted up to drive to work.

"She doesn't take being sick very well." Gail could muscle through a cold or even a low grade fever. The few times Vivian had been sick, it was either just annoying or down for the count, like that stomach bug. But Holly... Holly's body rebelled and refused to do anything at all.

"Soup tonight?"

"Yeah. You still on the housing cleanout?"

"Probably for the rest of the week," sighed Vivian. "People have been picking fights and stealing."

"Well, you know what I say."

Her daughter smirked. "Yeah. People suck. See you at work, Mom."

Gail smiled and tossed her shoulder bag into the passenger seat. People did suck. But Holly wasn't people, and neither was her daughter.

* * *

Swearing, Christian rubbed his shin. "I can't believe that little shit kicked me! Why did you let him go?"

"Because his mom will punish him better than we ever could. And it's Thursday. If nothing else happens, we'll be done today." Vivian pulled her phone out and checked the messages. At lunch, Holly had texted to say she felt better but Vivian still worried a little about her mother.

"You are distracted as fuck today."

Vivian looked up. "Mom has a fever. So." She shrugged.

Christian looked a little concerned. "Holly? That sucks."

"Yeah, Mom said she'd be fine home alone, but y'know." Looking back down, Vivian texted Holly asking how she really was.

_Stop asking. Go save the city._

She smiled. Holly was feeling better.

_Some kid kicked C in the shin._

The laughing cat emoji reply made her smile more. Thankfully this wasn't going to be one of Holly's more drawn out recoveries. While her doctorate endowed mother was tractable while sick, Gail had a habit of fussing over her to the point of annoyance. The last time she'd seen her mother's fight, Holly had been irate at Gail's hovering and Gail was pissed that Holly hadn't told them she had the flu.

Parents. What could she do?

"Are you happy living at home?" Christian's question seemed to come out of nowhere. "I mean, your moms are cool but it's got to be a cramp in things."

Things? She eyed him. "You mean dating? Eh, it wouldn't be if..." Vivian paused. Well. It was C. She was supposed to be telling more people. That's what her therapist said. Christian was safe, now that he wasn't being stupid. "I can't sleep at someone else's."

Her friend looked confused for a moment. "Sex or sleep?"

"Sleep."

Christian frowned. "So. Every time you go to a girl's ... What? You go home?" When she nodded he winced. "Well shit. No wonder- oh! Oh man is that why Liv dumped you?"

With a sigh she nodded. "Part of it, yeah."

And her friend looked sympathetic. "Shit. You... God, how'd you survive the academy? Or is it like just someone _else_ _'_ _s_ house? Wild. That's worse than me being in my twenties and still needing a nightlight."

It was surprising. Christian wasn't going to ask. He wasn't going to try and get into why she was fucked up. She shrugged and looked over the cars being loaded up. "It sucks, but it could be worse."

"Sure, but it still sucks."

Vivian studied Christian's face for a moment. He was sorry, but not in that annoying, overbearing way people got when you tried to talk around things like that. No, Christian, the boy with a kidnapper for a father and a nut job for a mother didn't have to wonder why and look at her like she was broken. He saw her the way he felt. Someone who had made it through.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a screaming family, putting their last things in a battered car. "Think they'll feel like we do in a decade?" She jerked her chin over.

Christian shook his head. "Maybe fifteen. If they make it."

"No guarantee."

"Maybe if a Peck shows up." Christian shifted his weight.

"We can be pretty awesome," agreed Vivian.

Her friend nodded. "Think I shoulda taken Diaz?"

Vivian startled. She'd never thought about that before, to be honest. "Pragmatically no. Your mother would have lost her mind, **and** you'd get the shit I get."

"Ugh. Good point." They watched more people leave. "This is fucking depressing."

"Makes me think I should move out, though."

After a moment, C asked, "Can you?"

That was a fair question. Vivian nodded. "I think so." She watched another family shove their belongings into a car. A shitty station wagon. And she knew the family. The little girl and her sister both noticed her. Anna smiled, shyly, while her sister scowled. "I'll be right back," she told her partner and walked over.

The parents froze. "Is something wrong, officer?"

"No, not at all." Vivian tried for an easygoing smile. "I wanted to thank your daughter, Anna."

The mother stared at her youngest in confusion. "Thank?"

"I told her 'bout Gary."

Groaning, the mother reprimanded Anna. "I told you to stay away from him. He's a ..." She stopped and eyed Vivian.

"Yes, ma'am, he was. We're still looking for him. If you know anything, we'd appreciate it." Pulling a card from her pocket, she held it out. The mother hesitated but took it. "Do you guys need anything? Any help?"

The mother shook her head. "No. No. Thank you." The parents were cautious as they got into the car.

Vivian waved, getting return waves from the kids in the back, and smiled. "I hate that they don't trust us."

"Can you blame them?" Christian waved as well.

Cops had earned a bad reputation in a lot of places. Flipping desks with students in them. Shooting unarmed citizens. Illegal arrests. Deaths in custody. The list went on and on for crimes her fellow officers committed in the name of justice. Or power.

"Mom... Gail said a lot of cops are on a power trip."

"I can see that." He sighed. "How do you know them?"

"That little kid was our informant yesterday." Vivian looked up at the second floor. "Hey... Your vision is 20-15, right?" When Christian muttered a yes, she pointed up at the railing. "That tape is undone." Vivian wasn't quite sure.

She didn't have eagle eyes, something she'd learned the hard way on the shooting range. After struggling to shoot accurately with both eyes open, Gail and Elaine had taught her how to focus and memorize the target better. Then they taught her how to do it faster. Adrenaline helped her focus, which wasn't true for everyone, but there was no reason for that to kick in just then. Still. She was pretty sure the tape had been loosened.

Christian frowned and squinted. "It wasn't before?"

Crap. "Dispatch, 4727. Going to check out the meth dealer's place. Possible trespassing."

"4727, copy."

The voice was startlingly new. "Man," said Christian. "I really got used to hearing Tassie."

"Pardon me for not missing her. Come on." They jogged up the stairs and Vivian rested her hand by her gun. The tape was dangling. She checked the seal on the door. "Damn it... Dispatch, seal is breached."

"Copy that, 4727."

"Entering premise. 4711 backup."

Vivian eased the door open and regretted it a second later when someone barreled into her, knocking her flat to the ground.

"Freeze," shouted Christian, his voice hitting a weird note. Scared. C was scared.

And Vivian was on her back, trying to inhale, with some jackass jumping over her and running down the hall. "Chase," she wheezed at her partner, rolling onto her front and pushing herself up.

"But-"

" _Go!_ " And C ran after the kid.

It took Vivian a few moments to gather herself. "Dispatch, 4727. 4711 is in pursuit of unsub trespasser."

"Copy," replied Dispatch. "Description?"

She hadn't even seen him! How was she supposed to describe him? How did she know he was a him? Vivian closed her eyes. This was what Gail had been trying to carefully prep her for. "Five ten." He had been shorter than she was. Young. "He was wearing an army type jacket, olive drab. Smells ... something herbal and unwashed teenaged boy."

There was a laugh over the line. "Knocked you down, huh?"

"Charged me right when I opened the damn door," Vivian grumbled. "I'm fine. C took off after him down the hall." She looked down the hall and could neither see nor hear them. Vivian frowned and leaned over the railing. Where were they?

Her radio crackled. "Dispatch, 4711. Got the little asshole."

Vivian smiled. Thank god for C. "4711, Dispatch. Lock him in your car. 4727, stay on location. Detective Peck will call with instructions."

They both confirmed they'd heard the orders. Vivian was not surprised her phone rang right away. "Peck."

A pause. "Okay that is plain weird." Of course it was Traci Peck (née Nash).

And she was right. "Just a little."

Traci huffed and asked, "You searched the apartment yesterday?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Go over it and see if anything's been touched."

"Copy that, ma'am." Vivian rubbed the back of her head. No bruise.

"Good." There was another pause. Then her aunt Traci asked, "You okay? Dispatch said you took a hit."

"Knocked the wind out of me."

"Yeah? You're not being your mom, right?"

Vivian smiled. "No, I'm not. I'm really fine. Please tell me she doesn't know."

"Probably not. She's busy with an arson."

"I'd rather have this." Vivian closed her eyes for a moment. "I remember most of what we had the lab haul out of here. Can you maybe send me the manifest?"

Traci laughed down the line. "Pushy rookie."

"That wasn't a no, ma'am."

Her aunt made a thoughtful sound. "Sent. Don't fuck it up."

Vivian read the manifest as she walked into the mostly empty apartment. The lab guys had taken almost everything. The almost was that any of the large furniture that didn't have any traces of drugs were left in place to be picked up later Whatever that idiot was after, it was either still in here or he was just looking.

Think.

What would someone come looking for _after_ the cops had been there? It couldn't be obvious. Obvious drugs and money would be found, eventually, unless they were hidden well. So remember. What had the room looked like? She stood in the middle and closed her eyes. Smelly couch. Table. Kitchen table. A chair, leather? No fake leather. Not that it mattered. She had the layout.

Eyes open. The table was left alone. The couch and fake-leather chairs had the cushions tossed aside. Nothing was cut open. Something was missing but not intentionally hidden. It was like one of Elaine's demented games. Think like a criminal. But that didn't seem right. Think like a thief? No. Think like... Think like a Peck.

A Peck would break in for information, not items.

"Fuller... Did you get a name on that moron?"

"Copy, says it's Max."

"Ask him if he's Gary's brother."

"Uh. Detective said not to talk to him."

"Fuller."

There was silence on their radio for a moment. "He didn't answer but he looks like I slapped him."

Bingo. Vivian texted Traci, telling her of the familial relationship. A sibling wasn't much, but it was something.

* * *

"Drugs and arson supplies." Gail tossed her shoulder bag onto the couch in the office.

Her wife looked up, actually dressed in sweats and a comfy shirt. "A volatile mix," mused Holly. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy bun. "I was reading the report."

"You are feeling magically better."

"I am." Holly closed her laptop. "And you are frustrated."

"I don't like when my cases intersect like this. It usually means someone's going to be very, very stupid." And when people were stupid, people died.

Holly was smiling up at her, though, as Gail started to put away her gun and badge. "Not going to brag about your daughter?"

Gail glanced over her shoulder. "Well the fact that I'm proud of her goes without saying." She huffed. "Yes, I told her." All the things Gail had struggled with, growing up Peck, stemmed from never hearing that her parents gave a shit. Self-esteem, self-worth, Peckspecktations. They all went back to being told, directly or not, that her mind and her skills and her talents were not good enough because they didn't match the Peck Mould.

Joke was on them.

The Peck who achieved the most, the Peck who _legitimately_ earned every single prize and accolade, the last Peck standing, was Gail.

And now her daughter.

So every day, Gail tried to make sure Vivian knew how proud Gail was that she was smart. That Gail noticed her success. And that Gail was there to help her survive her failures.

"Good," said Holly, rather simply, smiling. "You're not going to ask how I know?"

"Either you read it in the case notes or Traci called you. If it's Traci, I don't have to tell you how she got creamed by the perp." When Holly rolled her eyes, Gail smirked. "Traci. Right. She's fine."

Holly stood up and held her hands out towards Gail. She didn't need to ask; Gail just knew Holly wanted a hug. Of course Gail stepped in and pulled her close. Her wife made a deep, happy, noise and leaned into Gail's chest. "I know she's fine. She's tough. Took out that girl in hockey."

Tiny Vivian, undersized at twelve, had slammed a fourteen year old into the wall at one of her first hockey games. Gail had panicked when she saw the hit, and again in the next inning- no, period. They called it a period in hockey. Anyway, the next period the older girl came for retaliation. And Vivian, calm as anything, ducked and flipped the girl over her back. Holly and Lisa cheered so loudly, they both were hoarse the next day. After that, Gail had to ask Oliver and her therapist for advice on not freaking out at sports games.

"I think he surprised her with a bum rush." Gail gently rubbed the small of Holly's back. "Going back to work tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I was catching up on my email." Holly was quiet, though.

"How about I make dinner now? You can eat and get some more sleep?"

"Will you read upstairs?"

Generally, neither of them were 'needy' in the way Gail had hated with boys (and apparently a lot of girls were like that too). The first time Holly had been sick around her, she'd just really wanted Gail there. Not to talk to, but to be present. Likely she wanted that now. Gail thought over her work. Everything could wait and she could just think about her cases without needing to use her laptop. "You bet," she said to Holly, kissing her forehead.

They ended up finishing dinner just as Vivian came home, looking grumpy and tired. The rookie cop had apparently spent her afternoon with the arson squad, and had nothing nice to say about the case. It was as long winded as Vivian ever got.

"It's not that I mind," she told them as she heaped a plate full of leftovers. "It was cool to find a hidden stash of arson crap. But who the hell sells arson supplies for drug money and keeps a supply of both in his own damn house?"

"I told you," Gail laughed. "Criminals are morons."

Vivian looked a little disenchanted. "I didn't think they were _that_ stupid."

Holly, who had been quiet through Vivian's rant, smiled. "They always are."

"Truth." Looking at her wife, Gail asked, "Want to hit the sack?"

"Moms, it's eight." But then Vivian looked at Holly. "Oh."

The dark haired doctor smiled. "I'm feeling better, but I have no energy."

"You don't have to listen to me rant, Mom. Now I feel guilty."

"I like hearing you talk about things that excite you."

Surprised, their daughter looked at both of them. "Excited?"

"Yeah," nodded Holly. "You're excited about the arson."

While Vivian looked confused, Gail grinned. "She kind of is. What do you think about arson investigation? We should have some spots opening soon."

Making a face, Vivian took a bite of her food. "Stop being Elaine. I can be just a beat cop forever, if I want to."

"You won't be 'just' anything," said Gail, chastising. But it was an old banter now. Gail didn't really care what Vivian was, as long as she was happy. "So long as you're not a serial killer or a fireman."

"I'll work on that." Vivian grinned.

Holly sounded wistful as she spoke. "I wish you'd stayed in science more. You were very good at it. I know you're a Peck, but I like seeing me in there."

Quickly, Gail caught Vivian's eye and shook her head. The younger Peck nodded and sighed. "Mom, go to bed. I'll clean up."

Without much cajoling, Gail wrangled Holly upstairs and into bed. When sick, or overly worn out, Holly's filter to not speak her mind tended to fade. And Holly still felt that Vivian was, in many ways, Gail's daughter first and hers second. So the next things for Holly to voice out-loud would be that she was sad about Vivian taking so much after Gail. And that might sound like Holly was disappointed in her daughter.

They all knew that wasn't the case, but Gail felt it was better to cut that off at the pass.

As a sleepy Holly watched Gail change for bed, she spoke thoughtfully. "You know. She can do ETF."

"Oh?" Gail frowned and sat on the bed.

"Yeah. The EDU stuff. Cop plus science."

Gail blinked. Explosive Dispersal Unit. Well. If you put it that way. Gail sighed and shook her head. "She will be what she will be, Holly."

"You think she likes it."

"ETF? Yeah, I do. I think she likes the physical stuff, and she was really good with bombs." Freaky good. And the Internet thing. She liked applied technology. Gail leaned over to kiss Holly's forehead. "No rush."

Holly mumbled something and closed her eyes. Gail settled in to read, and was not quite surprised when Holly spoke again. "You were never just a beat cop. You were a thief."

"Thief?" Gail smirked down at the sleepy pathologist. "How's that?"

"Stole my breath. Heart. Muffins." Holly yawned. "Stars."

The last one confused her. "Stars?"

"Yeah." But Holly didn't explain it, slipping into sleep at last.

Gail watched her wife's face relax, loosing the tension of awake, settling into the softness and innocence of sleep. Reaching over, Gail brushed a lock of greying hair away from Holly's face. She still looked like the Holly that had upturned Gail's life twenty some years before. The smile that had changed everything.

"Sleep," she said softly. "I love you."

She knew Holly wouldn't reply, but it didn't matter. They knew.

* * *

"How does _everything_ happen in the middle of the week and Friday is quiet?" Lara stretched her arms up over her head and yawned.

Vivian smiled as she toweled her hair dry. "Just lucky, I guess."

"Luck. Hah. You had the luck. Drugs and arson!"

"And knocked over by a petty thief looking for the list of his brother's deals." Their idiot, Max, hadn't had any useful information, other than his brother was buying drugs with high end arson supplies, and he wanted in on the business since Gary was in the wind. Vivian hadn't known much of anything about arson, save the basics they thought in the academy, so it had been interesting.

Strangely, the lab had gone all over the trace. As far as Vivian could figure, spying on her mothers and Aunt Traci, the accelerant used in a few fires recently matched the fuel sold by a nearby gas station. That implied that Gary was sourcing a firebrand. And Gary and his list were in the wind.

Of course it also ended with Vivian working a desk Friday. Boring. Paperwork was a bore. Still, you had to do it, so she remembered the stories of Uncle Ollie nagging Gail to do hers and knuckled down.

"Earth to Peck. Come in, Peck."

Vivian startled and looked up at Lara. "Sorry. What?"

"Dancing. We need a change from the Penny. Come with us."

Jenny added, helpfully, "No smelly boys."

Smiling, Vivian pulled on her jeans. "You know what... Yeah." When both Lara and Jenny startled, she snarled. "What?"

Lara turned and held a hand out. "Pay up. Fifty bucks. I told you she'd come."

"How the hell... Did you set me up?" But Jenny handed over two twenties and then started rooting for the last ten.

Scowling, Vivian tugged her shirt on. "I don't know if I want to go, now that you bitches are betting on me."

Throwing her arms around Vivian, Lara squeezed. "No! You have to go!" Vivian groaned and leaned into her locker, but Lara didn't let go. "Please come with us!"

The sound of a camera clicked and a familiar voice laughed. "That is history," said McNally. "Peck, go with them before I make it an order."

From the depths of her locker, Vivian growled. "You can't order me on my days off, ma'am."

"Fine, don't make me tell your mother."

Vivian groaned. "I hate you." But she gave up. "Lara, let go, I'm coming."

"Can I ride your motorcycle?"

"If I say yes, will you let go of me?"

Jenny laughed. "What if she gets a girl tonight?"

Vivian snorted. "With my luck? I'll run into an ex who hates me. Of all the shit luck I could inherit from my moms, I really wanted the one where I just sleep with coworkers."

"Be careful what you wish for," warned Andy, leaving them be. "Go have fun, children."

After Andy left, Lara let go asked, "How long have you known the sergeant?"

"Since I was six. She used to give Gail grief for swearing in front of me." Vivian sighed and looked at the mirror hanging in her locker. "I don't know why I care about my hair. The helmet fucks it up."

"I thought you used the helmet as an excuse not to give a shit about your hair." Jenny teased and kicked her locker closed. "Come on. Dance. Have a drink. Hit on a cute girl."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Fine. Fine. Whatever."

She didn't expect to have fun at the club. She'd never been a fun kind of party girl. That was more Gail's thing. Like Holly, Vivian preferred quieter dates and nights in, while the daytime was for adventure and fun. Vivian couldn't remember the last time a day hike with a date had gone well. Still. She had agreed to go and it was fun to dance a little.

Both her friends started to try and point out girls for her, though, which was weird. And she did dance with a couple somewhat cute girls, but they were all a little vapid. Nothing was worse than dull.

"Okay, Viv, so what kind of girl?" Jenny plopped herself at the bar beside Vivian as they got drinks.

"I don't know. I don't have a type, really..."

"Well you like smart girls."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I like girls who can hold a fucking conversation."

"You mean girls who don't think Mussolini is a vegetable," corrected Jenny. The bartender came up and asked for their order. "Vodka sour, two tequilas."

"This is my last shot. I gotta drive home."

"Your moms give you hell for driving drunk?"

"Doesn't everyone's?"

"Okay, fair point." Jenny took the vodka and one tequila, leaving the other for Vivian. "Come on, one more drink." They knocked back the tequila shots, leaving them on the counter, and brought the vodka over to Lara. She was practically on a boy's lap, and shooed them away quickly, after telling them that his friend was single.

His quite predictably male friend. His friend who, of course, was into a hot cop like Jenny, and leered at her.

Jenny at least looked apologetic. "Vivian, do you mind if..."

"No, no, have fun with Thad."

"Chad," said the man.

"Whatever." Vivian shrugged and moved a bit away, only to be startled by hearing her own name.

"So, Vivian, huh?"

Vivian jumped and looked down a little at a face she knew. It was the brown-eyed firefighter. What the actual fuck? McGann, station 451. "McGann. Uh, okay this actually is a surprise."

The woman smiled. "Jamie." She held a hand out and Vivian shook it by reflex. "So you and your friends aren't here stalking me?"

Friends. Vivian glanced over to the table and spotted Lara, watching. Where had her boy gone? Not that it mattered. "Well, my friend might be trying to set me up."

Jamie followed the look. "Oh the jogging partner."

"We're coworkers." Pausing, Vivian figured she ought to say it. After all, cops and firefighters weren't notably friendly. She took a breath to explain they were cops, when someone shouted.

"Hey! McGann, gotta roll!" A tall man with tattoos was shouting from the door.

"Kinda busy, Jesuś."

"No, we gotta go!"

Jamie sighed. "Shitty timing. I'm on shift tomorrow."

"Oh. That, uh, yeah, I'm not sure what that means for a firefighter."

"Means five days at the station. But-" Jamie was cut off by the tall man shouting her name again. "I'm going to kill him," she growled.

"Come on! Cappy called!"

Jamie yanked her phone out of her pocket and swore. "I'm sorry. It's my captain... I've got to run."

Before Vivian could formulate a sentence, Jamie was running out the door. "Well. That went great," she said to herself.

"I've seen worse," Lara said. "But never in person. You're bad at that."

"Screw you. Where's that dude?"

"Oh, he was boring. Hot, but boring." Lara held out a bottle of water. "Wait! That was totally the girl from running!"

"Yes." Vivian sighed. "And I did not get her number."

Lara shook her head. "Maybe you should talk to Rich about how to pick up chicks."

"I would sooner eat my own vomit." But Vivian let Lara drag her to the dance floor again.

At home, a few hours later, her mothers were up. The light in their bedroom was on and their door open. "Hey, I'm not on till the afternoon," announced Vivian, poking her head in. "You weren't waiting up for me, were you?"

Holly looked up from her huge novel. The latest George R.R. Martin one. "You're a grownup, honey," she pointed out, smiling.

"That wasn't a no," smirked Vivian.

Gail had on her reading glasses and studiously kept her eyes down. "She's not a grownup. She's a seven year old who hates showers," she muttered, not looking up from her iPad. "Where were you?"

"Dancing. Met up with some firefighters," Vivian said absently, leaning in the doorway. So they were waiting up a little for her. The word 'firefighters' made Gail look up.

When Gail started to say something, Holly slapped her arm. "Stop it, Peck," she laughed. "Good for you, making new friends outside of work."

"I bet there was a cute girl involved." That time, Holly hit her with the pillow. Laughing, Gail dropped her iPad, pulled Holly's arm and kissed her. "Good night, Monkey. Close the door."

Vivian rolled her eyes and closed the door, retreating to her room.

Her bedroom hadn't changed much in 17 years. She still had the dinosaur border and the same bed and desk in the same places since she'd gotten them. Gail had thought that a kids bed was silly, getting her a full sized one right away. She'd only gotten the queen sized bed when she, Matty, and Olivia had broken the frame of the old one, playing some stupid game in the house. In fact, almost all the furniture was the original, though the mattress was new. The bookcase still had the stickers from when she and Liv were twelve and thought that was cool.

She didn't want them anymore.

Not because she was mad at Liv still (which she was, for many reasons, but mostly for cheating on her own boyfriend). It just felt like an old life she didn't want any more. She wanted something a little new that wasn't too new. Something different. Maybe a move would be it. Maybe a change would push her forward. It was time to move out.

Vivian picked up the photos still on her desk, taken from their various albums to soon find new homes in the multi-photo frames Gail bought for her. Her graduation from the police academy, a photo of her sister, a photo of meeting the King of England, a photo of her mothers. There was a photo of her friends, Liv and Matty, at their high school graduation. Tall (finally) Vivian with her arms around their shoulders. There was the photo of Gail and Holly at the cottage, snuggled on the couch, looking peaceful. There was her first winter at this house.

There were her memories.

And in between all of that, she kept thinking about the firefighter, McGann and her smile. Oh yeah, she was crushing hard on the woman. Vivian closed her eyes and smiled, thinking about the implications of last night, wondering if Jamie would have asked her out or accepted if she'd asked. Wondering what the future was going to be.

* * *

Holly spotted it at breakfast on Monday.

Vivian was lingering over her coffee, zoning out about something."You have a crush on someone," she informed Vivian, amused. The girl had avoided her parents all weekend, going out to play ninja warrior with her friends, and something else she wasn't talking about.

"Oh my god, I need to move out, Mom," groaned Viv, covering her face.

"You can if you want to," said Holly carefully. She wanted to encourage her daughter to grow. She just wasn't always sure how to do it.

Vivian peered between her fingers. "I've been kinda looking."

Holly smiled. "We kinda noticed."

"I think I need help." The admission was rueful. "I don't want to ask you guys for help but I'm failing at this and... And I do want to move out."

"Hear here," muttered Gail from the stairs, pulling on her leather jacket. "Why not the church loft?"

"What?" Viv looked up. "Leo's place?"

"Leo's job is moving him to Texas. Officially," explained Holly, still smirking but handing Gail some coffee in exchange for a kiss. "What's her name?"

Vivian pointed at her bespectacled mother. "No. There's no one, Mom." Then she turned her finger towards Gail. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" Gail looked thoughtful as she sipped the coffee. "I mean, I'd rather you had a roommate, but it's a good age to move out. And it's a great condo. Leo moved in when he was your age."

"You can just give it away?" Vivian was clearly flabbergasted.

Holly laughed. "We own it. Well, she does with Steve. Which technically means me and Traci too. You'd have to pay utilities and maintenance."

"Be better than renting it out to strangers again," muttered Gail. "That was a pain in the ass. Think about it. He's practically moved out, except for cleaning the place, which won't be that hard. Traci made him hire a cleaning service once he was living there by himself."

Vivian looked between her mothers. "No no, seriously Moms. You'd let me rent it?"

"Not that I particularly want you to move out," Holly said slowly. "But I think you want to."

Chewing her lip, Vivian nodded. "I do and I don't."

This wasn't a conversation Holly felt ready for. Much like the time Vivian asked where babies came from, it was presented before she was prepared. Holly hated that. She liked to research and think and present her findings appropriately. But time waited for no one. Holly smiled gently, encouragingly. "Viv, honey. What do you want?"

Her daughter stared at the coffee cup in her hands. "I feel like I'm supposed to want this. And ... And I do. I want to have my own place, figure out how to be without you guys... And I really don't."

"Hell, Viv, everyone feels like that." Gail was practical if nothing else. "But this. This is easier than joining the force. Easier than college. This is just moving across town and having to remember to do your own laundry and clean and shop every week. And then remember to come over and eat with your old moms once in a while." She passed by Vivian and ruffled her hair.

Vivian shied away from the manhandling and laughed. "Okay. I do want to move out. If only to stop having to hear you two have sex."

While Gail laughed, Holly felt a blush creep up her neck. "Sorry," she muttered and hid behind her coffee.

"No," said Vivian firmly. "Moms, never ever apologize for that. Okay?"

"Oh she's just embarrassed," said Gail, dismissively. "Your mother is weirdly puritanical about sex. I mean, considering she likes-"

Holly leaned over the counter and covered Gail's mouth. "Stop," she said firmly. Seriously. While Gail's eyes twinkled, she nodded. "I mean it." Another nod, this one more serious. "I'm not puritanical, I just don't think anyone wants to think about their parents have sex. It's weird."

Her daughter shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I don't care that it's _you_ as much as bringing a girl over is awkward, so right now it's just ... Y'know, oh hey, that sex I'm not having? My moms are."

"Pia didn't mind," Gail pointed out. "The coming over. I liked her. She was very direct."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "She was. I liked her to, but she was always going back to Germany."

Smiling, Holly put her coffee cup away. Wisely, Vivian had only brought Pia over in nights Holly and Gail had been out late. The first time, they found out Pia was there because Vivian came down and grabbed two coffee cups. It had been sort of adorable, the face Gail had made while Vivian had gone back upstairs. It was nearly Chloe levels of delight, something she'd told Gail at the time. And it had only gotten funnier when Vivian mentioned it was not the first time Pia had spent the night. It was only the first time that they'd been home as well.

"I see your point though." Holly shook her head, trying to think how it would be to have had any of her girlfriends hear her parents ... Nope.

The blonde Peck looked thoughtful. "I'd almost wish you had a roommate. But ... Well. I'm fine with it. I'll even help you move."

She didn't mean to, but Holly snorted a laugh out her nose. "Sorry," she laughed, covering her mouth. "You wouldn't have helped us move if your daughter hadn't shamed you." The six year old had just eyed Gail as if she was the world's worst parent.

"Why _do_ you hate moving?" Vivian was smirking.

"I hate people throwing away memories."

As soon as Gail said it, Viv sobered up. She tensed a little. "Mom... The most important memories are right here." She tapped her chest and then her head.

Gail shrugged. "I know. And yet." Finishing her coffee, Gail picked up her jacket. "Anyway. You're not getting rid of memories, kid. You're going to take some photos of us and hang them up, okay?"

The 'us' seemed to relax everyone. "Okay," agreed Vivian. "Can I have a copy of us sleeping? The one grandma took at the cottage?"

"Yes." Gail smiled. "Take a nap before your shift, okay? I'm off to save the world and figure out where we're putting ETFs squads."

Holly didn't miss the sharpening of Vivian's gaze on that comment. Looked like Gail was right. Their daughter was interested in ETF. "I think my day cutting up dead bodies will be more fun." She kissed Vivian's forehead, picked up her bag, and followed Gail to the garage.

To her surprise, Gail was standing by her car. "So?"

"So?"

"Viv. Moving out."

Rolling her eyes, Holly opened her SUV's door. "You already told her you were for it."

"I know, but ..." Gail walked around and leaned against Holly's doorframe. "It's empty now. I can call painters and have it ready by the end of next week."

That was fast. But considering how quickly they'd gone from engaged to married, Holly somewhat expected it. "Do it," said Holly firmly, buckling up. "And get the plumbing checked out."

Gail nodded and leaned in to kiss her. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Don't think you're dumping packing on me, Peck," smiled Holly. "Have a good day at work, dear."

"I want a better kiss." Leaning in again, Gail kissed her again. "Go cut up dead things."

Holly rolled her eyes. "You're a pain in the ass and I love you." But she was smiling as she pulled out for another day at work.

* * *

Gail carried the last box into the loft and put it on the kitchen counter. Somehow she'd talked Holly into letting her buy a whole mess of new cookware, which meant Vivian inherited most of the old ones. The part that would fit anyway. Pots and pans. A set of dishes. Silverware. All the things Vivian needed to make a home.

It had been one week from conception to move in. Gail had underestimated the time it would take to get the place cleaned, painted, and sorted. Much to her surprise, Leo had left the place in good standing. And Steve had no issues when Gail told him she wanted to rent it out to Vivian, so the paperwork had been simple.

So here she was, unpacking cookware in her daughter's first apartment.

"Mom!" Vivian's laughter echoed down the hall.

"Look, child, this was your idea!" Holly was laughing too.

Smiling, Gail opened the box to put the pots away. They'd had the whole place scrubbed and repainted, and shoved the boxes Leo had left behind into storage at Traci and Steve's place. Vivian had bought herself some new furniture, a bed and dresser and desk, but the rest was a mishmash.

The couch was something Leo had bought. The television was Steve and Traci's old one. The table was from when Andy and Nick moved in together. Oliver's eldest, the annoyingly artistic Izzy had brought the artwork. Well. Painted it. The cookware was the least Gail and Holly could do.

"You're supposed to compensate people who help you move." Holly was giggling to much though.

"Hah! I have to pay rent, Mom!" That had been Holly's demand. Vivian would pay a fair rent and the money would go into a savings account. Once in a while, their family acted like they were well off. Holly had no school debt, Gail had her inheritance, and Vivian had a trust fund too. It was odd to realize they were wealthy.

Gail put the last pan away and broke down the box, putting that in the pile. "You two are supposed to be putting a bed together!"

"Mom is a shitty lesbian, Mom!"

"Shut up! Hexagonal wrenches are the devil's invention!"

"You're a scientist! You don't believe in the devil!"

And they broke into laughter again. If Gail hadn't known better, she would think her wife and daughter were drunk. "I'm ordering pizza, you idiots."

"Veggie special, please."

"No olives, honey."

"For crap's sake, it's not like I haven't been ordering for you two for almost twenty years!" Also she had a pizza order saved on the delivery app. All Gail had to do was put in the new address.

It was at least thirty minutes out so Gail went to see how the bed building was going. They had the headboard and footboard together, as well as the sides. The interior frame was laid out, and the bed was still in its box. Vivian was laughing to the point of tears at something Holly had done, and Holly was sucking the side of her hand.

Everyone dealt with change their own way. Holly was shoving in as many good memories as possible. She'd done the same when the move to California was on the table. Gail stepped back, letting them have their moment, her fingers trailing on the wall. It didn't feel like Bill's anymore. That was good. But it didn't feel like Vivian's yet either.

Gail paused and grinned. She could fix that. They'd put the leftover paint in a hall closet. There was white and blue and an odd grey that they used for trim. The blue would work. All she needed now was a box knife and some cardboard.

Ten minutes later, forgotten craft skills from when Vivian was a child paid off. Gail had a small dinosaur stencil and the paint to make it work. She carefully put a small dinosaur at the top of the stairs to Vivian's room, and another on the door. The third one, by the nightstand, caught the attention of the others.

"Really, Mom?" Vivian shoved at the bed and the crossbeam clicked into place. "Dinosaurs?"

"Robot dinosaurs," corrected Gail, smiling. "Because this is your home."

"In a very odd Gail way, that makes perfect sense." Holly took the stencil and studied it. "One more." She held a hand out for the brush and took them to the ensuite bathroom, putting one by the light switch.

Vivian sighed. "I'm twenty-four and I have robot dinosaurs in my room. Are you trying to shoot my love life in the ass?"

Grinning, Gail helped fit the beams on the bed together. "I think girls will not notice the dinosaurs the first time. Maybe not the second if you're doing it right. And then when they do, you can say your mom did it. And they'll ask you about your mom and you'll say you have two and suddenly you, my monkey, you will have conversation."

"I hate when you make sense." Vivian tossed the slats onto the bed. She sighed. "What if I can't sleep?"

"Then you come back and crawl in bed with me and your mom," said Gail simply.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Holly lingered by a box labeled 'photos.'

"God, why are you even asking, Mom?" Vivian scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

Holly opened the box and took out a photo, framed, of a girl. At first Gail didn't recognize it. But then. Then she took in the similarities to the girl she'd raised. That was Kimberly. That was Vivian's sister. Gail glanced at Vivian, who just nodded. "Dresser?" Asked Holly.

"Yeah. But put us there too?" As Holly put the photo of Vivian at graduation on the dresser as well, Vivian walked over to the mattress. "Help me get this up, Mom."

They hefted the mattress out of its box and, still wrapped into place. A few deft cuts later and a bed unfurled itself onto the frame, puffing up in less than 60 seconds.

"This is good." Gail nodded firmly and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Come here." When Vivian sat beside her, Gail reached up to pull her daughter's head against her own. "You're a million times more mature than I was at your age. And Holly's folks, as cool as they are, made her sell her motorcycle. You are capable and dependable, and totally ready for this."

"Dov said I was courageous. When he cut me loose."

Gail smiled. "I'm loyal. Your mom would be reliable."

There was a click of a camera and they looked to see Holly holding her phone up. "Also opportunistic." The nerd smiled. "Get off the bed. Sheets and your quilt will make this home."

"Did you buy me Star Wars sheets?"

Holly smiled. "No. But I brought a pillow case for you."

They quickly made the bed just before the pizza arrived. Sitting on the couch, which Vivian said she wanted to replace, they watched a movie on Netflix, as if it was any other night. But. After the food there were hugs, and Vivian walked them to the car (ostensibly to throw out some now empty boxes) and Holly gleaned one more big hug before they drove off.

It was Holly who sniffled first. "No. You can't cry in the car," said Gail firmly. "If you start, I'll cry, and I'm driving."

"Sorry."

Gail sighed and rubbed at one eye. "This is a good thing."

Holly blew her nose. "I know. It just feels sudden. One week and my kid moves out."

It did feel sudden. "Suddenly, slowly, and then all at once. Things fall into place."

With a deep sigh, Holly looked in the mirror. "I'm glad." Gail made a noise to indicate confusion and Holly conveniently went on. "I'm glad we adopted. I'm glad we had a child. It feels ... It feels fulfilling in a weird way to be letting her go. Like we did things right."

"We did," said Gail firmly. "We raised a good kid. We taught her how to be a good person. And we are good parents. We are _great_ parents."

"So you think she'll be okay?"

"I think she'll be miserable tonight. And then in a week it'll be normal. So when she comes over for Thursday dinner, she will tell us how weird it is to be on her own, but how cool it is."

Her wife was quiet for a few blocks. "Yeah. Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

"Okay, I think you're right?"

Gail smiled. "And that is as it should be, Stewart. I'm awesome." Without a pause, she added. "And so are you."

Holly sighed again, deeply, but more content and calm. "Yeah. I am."

The new normal would be okay.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now Vivian has moved out on her own. Just in time for the 20th wedding anniversary. That's what's next. See you in two weeks for a party!


	13. 02.03 For Better, For Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After thirty years, a long cold case is solved and another investigation is given new life. But can Fifteen survive the news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just before Gail and Holly's twentieth anniversary, a body is found in the woods solves a thirty year old cold case, and has personal ramifications for them all.
> 
> It's the return of someone's favorite case...

"It's May, right?"

Vivian blinked at Rich. "Yes. It's May."

"So why is it cold?" He had on long sleeves and looked like he wished he had a jacket on.

Glancing at her arms, Vivian had on short sleeves and was actually enjoying the spring sun on her skin. It was cold, though, a fact Lily had commented on that morning when gardening. Vivian had stopped by to say hello to her grandparents, having missed them the night before with work and Brian going bed early, thanks to sleeping pills. He hated traveling. Smiling, Vivian pointed out the truth. "It's relative." The first cold snap, after a long summer, was the worst. By the second, she was generally used to it.

"Speaking of relative. Why is Fuller living with you?"

"C? He needed a place to stay and I kinda like having someone around." She shrugged.

Rich looked skeptical. "He kissed you."

"I broke his nose. We're good."

It was more complicated than that, she knew, but. Christian hadn't even asked her about it. Coming to the station early a few days before, Vivian caught him sleeping in his truck. When she pressed, he explained his landlord skipped town and everyone was evicted by the bank. Since C was sending money back to his mother, he didn't have enough yet for a deposit on a new place.

Naturally Vivian invited him to crash on her couch. That's what friends did. Right? It was Christian, regretting the kiss, who had balked. After all, he'd kissed her. But he'd apologized, and been sincere and honest about it. He knew it was stupid. And she forgave him, because no one was so rich as to throw away friends, as Holly would say. All she had to check was that she could take on a roommate (the lawyer said yes) and that was that. Christian took the guest room.

She didn't say any of that, though, as her phone rang. "Peck."

It was Dov. "Hey, kid, why the fuck are you at work?"

"Because recruitment is at an all time low?"

Her uncle scoffed. "The party is Friday!"

"And? It's Monday. Jesus, Moms are at work!"

"They're just avoiding your grandmothers."

"So am I." Elaine had gone a little psycho on the planning and Lily wasn't any better. They'd been waiting two decades to throw a gala for their girls, and they would not be denied. Gail had taken to muttering that Vivian should elope if she ever got married, and Gail would not hold it against her. "This is why I'm never getting married."

"Yeah, well I have to wear a tux, so shut up."

"Did you call to bitch about that?"

"No, I called to remind you that the playlist is your responsibility."

Vivian frowned. "Why are you... Is Elaine in your office?"

There was a pause before his answer. "Not anymore."

"Jesus, remind me to thank McNally for shoving me on park patrol."

"That's _Sgt._ McNally. And yeah, no shit."

"I'll send it to you after shift. I have it on my laptop."

"Thank you, kid. Remember, there's a for-fun shooting competition Friday morning."

While Vivian had her doubts at the 'for fun' part, she grinned. "And a home run contest after." Those small events had been the 'bachelorette' parties for her mothers. The stacked timing had been so Vivian could attend both.

"Right! See you!" And Dov hung up.

As Vivian shoved her phone away, she noticed Rich was eying her. "What?"

"What's all that about?"

"My folks' anniversary." She stretched her arms up over her head and yawned.

"You're not going?"

"I don't think I can get out of it." Vivian shrugged. "It's formal, too."

Rich wrinkled his face up. "For the anniversary?"

"They eloped the first time."

"Shotgun wedding?"

Vivian chuckled. "No." She paused and remembered what her therapist had said. Be a little more outgoing. "Actually it's-"

"Thank god you're here!" Two filthy teenagers came running up. "We're sorry!"

Sharing a look with Rich, Vivian studied their clothes. She asked them, "What's going on?" Rich frowned and looked between the kids.

"We were running."

"Okay," Rich said with a sigh. "And then what?"

"Chrissy's a little freaked out," said the boy.

"Uh, I'm a _lot_ freaked out!"

"- We were just joking around."

" _You_ were joking."

The teenaged boy looked at Vivian beseechingly. "She was running away from me, - and I chased her down there, and-"

The girl cut in, pointed off the trail. "We were running, and I tripped -"

"And she tripped, and she fell into that."

That? Vivian let Rich talk to them, stepping off the path and peering at the disturbance in the soil. The trail was new here. Five years ago, there had been a storm so bad it uprooted much of the park. Vivian recalled the change to a 10K she'd been training for. She looked back over her shoulder. The original trail was where a creek now ran.

But Chrissy, the girl, went on. "- And I fell into the puddle! And I landed on top of it. - And it was in my hair, and - "

Rich cut in. "Landed on top of what?"

The girl was not calm. "It was all in my hair!"

"Landed on top of what?" Rich was frustrated.

Vivian stepped into the brush and blinked. "Hey, Hanford..."

"What is it?"

The body was bones. Not too greasy, all things considered. Bits of an anorak covered the torso. The jacket actually looked well made. Not the high end expensive crap, but the stuff that worked. Huh. Old.

Vivian cleared her throat and looked at her partner. "Someone who's been here for a while."

* * *

Ducking under the tape line, Holly was struck by a sense of déjà vu. A body that was bones in the woods. A Peck watching the tape line. A pregnant feeling of cold rain in the air. She shook her head. "Hello," smiled Holly at the taller officer Peck. "Aren't you cold without your coat?"

"No, ma'am." Vivian rolled her eyes a little.

"And this isn't a setup?"

There was a blank look on Vivian's face for a moment. "Oh, God, no. No, for real there's a body down there. The femur was not intact, though. Someone broke her leg."

"Her?" Holly startled.

"Yeah, we got a partial ID from her wallet." Vivian flipped open her notes. "Something Mills. Said female. She'd be almost 60. We haven't run her yet, since the car's up there. But after you release the scene, we're going to check out her last known. The driver's license is really rotten. Half the numbers are missing."

"You're assuming the ID is the body." When Vivian sighed she looked just like Gail in that moment when someone burst her little detective bubble. Holly was hard pressed not to laugh. "It'll give us a start at least," Holly said, as a peace offering.

Still, even though Vivian was clearly a little miffed she kept a professional mien on. "Height roughly matches the ID and long bone deterioration matches examples from bodies left in shallow graves for over twenty-five years. Looks just like Longham's study."

Holly smiled. "Now that is better, Officer Peck. I trust you didn't compromise medical jurisprudence."

Vivian's partner, Rich the Abercrombie look-alike, snorted. "Please, Super Science Peck? I thought she was just puking up what she read for her presentation." Vivian's presentation had been on medical jurisprudence, much to Holly's amusement. She'd snuck in the back to watch and found it oddly familiar.

"Yeah what was yours on again, Hanford?" Vivian smiled one of Gail's more dangerous smiles. "The benefit of uniforms?"

Rich sneered at her, but they seemed to be having fun. "Uniformity in attire presents a face of relatable authority."

"Cult studies 101," Vivian drawled. "And at least my topic has been relatable to our work."

"I bet you stole the idea from your mom's papers-" Rich froze and, wide eyed, stared at Holly. "Ma'am, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, uh, imply you'd have anything to do with- I mean, I was just goofing and... Uh."

Holly smiled thinly. "Actually, to my surprise, Peck here hadn't actually read any of my medical journals or papers until the last six months." She gave Vivian a sly wink and her daughter smirked a little. "I'm not sure where I went wrong with her, to be honest."

Leaving the officers to banter, which they seemed to enjoy, Holly stepped across the line.

It had been a long time since she'd been in this part of the park. There had been a few more cases since her eventful meeting with the sarcastic Gail Peck, but mostly closer to the parking lots. The cases on this side of the park were few and far between. It wasn't the pretty part of the park.

"Anything interesting yet?"

Her field assistant, Ben, looked up. "Not really, except damn this woman was prepared."

"You ID'd the gender?"

"Based on the hips and the clothes. I'm pretty confident," Ben said. "But check this out. See how the parka has barely deteriorated? It's military grade."

Holly winced as she squatted, feeling her age. Her knees were not what they once were and the sharp pain was annoying. "Think she's military?"

"Or military adjacent."

Pulling on her gloves, Holly couldn't shake a bad feeling she got as she looked at the bones. Not that Holly really believed in vibes or woo woo shit, but after spending two decades knowing Celery Shaw, spending all that time with her because of her god-son Jerry (currently sixteen and graduating high school early, planning to study actual rocket science and work for the space program), Holly knew when to trust her instincts and listen to her subconscious.

Right now, her back brain was ringing all sorts of bells. There was something about the body, the way it was dressed, that was familiar. Military adjacent. Female. A little older than Holly (how had she gotten to be almost sixty!?). "Hey, Ben. What did the ID say?"

"Name was pretty much unreadable. I think I can use the ink lifting trick though, back at the lab. Right now, all I can make out is a B and a A in the first name."

B and A. B and A. Mills. Holly shook her head. "Prioritize that, will you? I have a bad feeling about this one."

"Sure thing." Ben went back to his work and Holly carefully lifted the leg bone. Broken. Rather brutally too. Who broke a femur? They were incredibly hard to break in the first place. Why would someone do that? Rage?

She sighed and reached for the skull. In an instant, her heart raced and her face heated up. Practiced fingers checked the skull again. "Ben... The left femur is broken. But is all of it there?" Holly put the skull down and looked back at the legs. "Are they both there?"

"Uh... Well that's fucking weird. The right femur is missing."

"Sorry .. What?" She stared at Ben. She'd heard the words but couldn't believe them.

"Missing. I've got knife marks on the hip and ... I guess this is the knee. Yeah, knee and tibia."

"Jesus Christ," whispered Holly. "Someone must have butchered her here." To kill someone, break their head open, and then rip them apart to get at their bones... Just when Holly had started to think her head basher case was annoyingly weird, it went into serial killer levels of disturbing.

"This is a crap case to pick up today," Ben noted.

"A bit, yeah." Holly stood up. "Officers, did you call homicide?"

Vivian spoke up. "Yes, ma'am. Zettel is sending over Connors."

She wanted to ask for Traci, but her sister in law had moved up in the world. That was as it should be. The status quo had to change to make room for new people like Vivian and Abercrombie. And Connors was good. Gail didn't like her, since she'd tried to take Chloe's locker her first day, a million years ago, but Gail was a hard sell on anyone. The Connors woman was methodical and, after years of application, stopped doing only what people told her to do.

Holly turned her attention back to the body. A semi shallow grave. Enough that it survived, say, twenty years without discovery. It was all about the location. Wasn't that why Robbie Robbins had been found ten years later? Thirty was a drop in the bucket compared to some.

It wasn't until she started the autopsy, a few hours later, that everything clicked into place. The location, the clothes, the name, and now the pins in the woman's wrist.

It wouldn't have been visible, probably, just a scar, but it reminded Holly of a story and a pleasantly drunk man on her couch, laughing with Gail about stupid things and exes and relationships. And a story about how camping with his then girlfriend had ended with her helping carry him to an ER, only for them to find that she too had broken a bone. They had matching scars from the adventure.

He had one from ankle surgery, she had one from wrist surgery. Oh god. Holly carefully picked up the wrist bone and looked at the pin. The style was right for the era. She felt a little cold. B. Mills. Pins. She wanted so much to be wrong.

"What's that?" Rich, who no longer puked in autopsy, leaned over, startling Holly.

"Metal pins," explained Connors. "They can use them to ID the body." The young detective eyed Holly. "Everything okay, Doc? You're usually lesson-central."

Holly sighed. "Oh." She looked over at the rookies (were they still rookies when their ties were cut? she'd have to ask Gail) and jiggled her head. "Sorry, sometimes I get distracted."

Her daughter smiled a little. "Did they always stamp numbers on pins?"

That was a good leading question. "No, but Gerhard Küntscher was working in 1939, in World War II, when he started doing this with intramedullary nails. That's when it's inside the bone."

Rich winced. "That sounds painful."

"It can be. The alternative is usually worse." Holly grinned a little. "Before that we had Kirchner wires, by Martin Kirchner back at the turn of the century. Er, the previous one. 1909." Shaking her head, Holly added, "Those can be removed. I don't really like them, myself. Anyway. Even in the 1980s we didn't really label all the pins and screws as well as we might have. This plate, though, that's going to be easy enough to identify. Especially if the surgery was local."

Flipping her memo book open, Vivian read for a moment. "Probably. We're waiting to see if the lab can get an exact address, because the drivers license deteriorated. But the weird thing was those notebooks. They're all mucky and nasty, but the paper didn't really degrade."

Connors spoke up, "It happens with some paper. We experimented with waterproof ink and higher quality paper when I was a rookie, but it didn't last."

"That's like the story of how the US space program spent millions of dollars trying to find a pen that wrote in zero-G. And then they asked the Russians what they used." Vivian was smirking a little as she told the story.

Her partner took the bait. "What did they use?"

"Pencil."

Even Holly had to smile and laugh a little. She'd told that to Vivian years ago and they knew it wasn't true at all. The space pen was phenomenal though, and Vivian was actually using one at work right now, twirling it between her fingers before she made a note of something.

"Besides the plate," said Connors, "What else can you tell us about the body?"

"Female, fully grown. I estimate she was in her mid to late twenties based on bone development and deterioration. Trace is going over her clothes, or what was left of them. I concur with the initial assessment that she's been there since the 1990s or early 2000s though." The more Holly confirmed, the more she felt sick to her stomach. Oh please no...

"Long time to not be found." Rich sounded skeptical.

Vivian did not. "Not a popular part of the park until the last couple years. Hell, I wouldn't go there alone at night."

"So why was she there at all?"

"And where is her leg bone?" Vivian pointed at the right leg. "Femur's missing?"

"Wasn't there." Holly sighed and rubbed her forehead in her wrist. "It's not misplaced, and we have the dogs looking for it now." She hesitated. "I speculate, based on the evidence, that it was removed by the perpetrator shortly after death."

All three cops looked stunned. "Okay. That is officially the creepiest thing," said Rich. He looked queasy.

"Sink," said Vivian, stepping back.

Rich twitched and then ran, vomiting. "Sorry." Holly couldn't blame him. It was nauseating.

Before she could reply, her computer dinged and Holly looked up at the report. The pin had been identified conclusively. Holly read the results and then frowned. She read it a second time. Then she compared the numbers herself. But it was what it seemed to be. The numbers did not lie. Evidence did not lie. "Officer Peck," she said softly, surprising all three cops. "Please call Inspector Peck— Gail right now."

"Uh, okay, ma'am." Without a question of why, Vivian pulled out her phone. Not even Connors dared to speak up. "What do I tell her?"

"Tell her …" Holly sighed and pushed her glasses up with her wrist again, swallowing the sickness she felt. "Tell her I believe we've found Bethany Mills."

* * *

Waiting for the DNA to be confirmed was the longest hours of her life. But Gail waited quietly until Holly called to tell her it was a match. Then Gail called Janet, John's girlfriend, and asked her to come by the station. And then, finally, she opened her door into the bullpen. "Hey. John."

Her former partner looked up from his desk. "I'm still deadlocked on the arson."

"Yeah. This is … not that." She gestured for him to come over and, curiously, John did. "You should sit down."

John blinked. "Okay, you never say that, Gail."

That was true. "Well. Today is a first. Ah. We— The lab has a positive ID on a body they found in the woods this morning." When John looked blankly at her, Gail added, "It's a match. For Bethany."

In the last twenty years, she knew John well. Maybe better than her own brother. She knew how much he took to heart the pain of his missing fiancé. She knew how it ate him still, almost thirty years later, to not know what happened to the woman he'd loved. The raw agony on his face was hard to stomach. Gail wanted to deflect it with her usual brand of bitter sarcasm, but this wasn't the place. John fell into a seat on the couch, years sucked out of him right in front of her.

"How long…?"

"Looks like she died shortly after she went missing."

John closed his eyes and exhaled. "Shit." He was deflating before her eyes.

Gail sat on the edge of her desk. "I called Janet. Didn't tell her why, but I think you need a ride home."

The man nodded. "Thank you." John rubbed his face with both hands. "Shit. Who did the autopsy?"

"Holly."

He looked surprised. "Oh. She wouldn't... Yeah. She wouldn't make a mistake."

Gail shook her head gently. "No. Not for this." Any other pathologist and Gail would have questioned the results. Maybe even pushed back on the case. But this was Holly. While Holly could and did make mistakes, she had gotten the plates ID'd before the bone work. She had taken her time and run the tests herself, not just letting the lab run them. She was certain. It was John's long missing fiancé.

"Fuck," muttered John. "I don't… God. I should call her father."

Even though it had been years, John still spoke with the Mills family. They'd never blamed him for Bethany's disappearance, and while at times their relationship had been estranged, they were forever bound by the loss. "I can do that," Gail offered. Calling the families was her least favorite aspect of her job. She regularly made John do it.

John shook his head. "No. No. I should call him. Todd's a friend." Haunted, John looked up. "Will you ... "

He didn't say, but Gail knew. Would she work the case? Would she, herself, take the case. "Yes." Connors would have to deal, but Gail had no qualms throwing her weight around on this one.

Nodding, John didn't say anything else. He sat in confused silence until Gail's watch buzzed to tell her that Janet was downstairs. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Vivian brought her up, letting the cook into Gail's office. "I'm sorry," Vivian said to John.

Again, John nodded. "Wait outside please," said Gail to her daughter. "John, stay here as long as you need, okay?" And another nod. Gail squeezed his shoulder and stepped out of her office.

Standing sentinel by her door, Vivian was silent but curious. The same could not be said of the rest of her staff. "Is it true?" Derek Mayhew, the first detective appointed after Gail and John, spoke up from his desk. "It's ..."

Gail sighed. "Okay. Yes. John's ... The body in the woods is of John's fiancé, Bethany Mills. It's an old, open, cold case in ThirtyFour. Call in Anderson, she'll be our liaison but I'm taking this one. We'll need to loop in the cold case squad at the big building."

There was a murmur in the room. She hadn't named a name or pointed at anyone to make the call on purpose. Moments like these were when you found who was next for leadership. Mayhew picked up his phone. "This is Det. Mayhew, Major Crimes. I need to speak with Sgt. Petrovitch in cold cases."

A moment later, another detective, a young woman named Trujillo, picked up her phone and called for Frankie Anderson. Pedro grabbed the electronic whiteboard and set it up on the wall. They fell into action like the well oiled machine she'd built.

It was a relief.

This was a room of people who were willing to do what it took for their brother in blue. This was why Gail stayed a cop. The force was the only place she'd been safe, before Holly at least. And here, on the third floor, Gail had built for herself and Toronto a place where they were all safe together.

The rest of her officers went to clear case loads to give those three the freedom to work John's case. It was just as it should be. "Come on, junior."

Following her to a conference room, Vivian looked confused. "Why am I here?"

"Because I want the firsthand report. Sit. Tell me."

Vivian sat and pulled out her memo book. She opened it, but didn't actually read as she recited her morning. From the couple arguing in the park to how she saw the bones and how they were arranged. She was sure that the body was laid there on purpose, left to be ID'd and staged, but it had fallen to ruin following an unluckily timed storm. "After the autopsy, I checked into the park history. There was a storm back in 2006 that tore it up, just like the one we had a couple years back. They totally redid all the trails and stuff."

Vaguely Gail remembered that storm. 2006. She'd not yet been a police officer. Back then, Gail was young and in college maybe? Maybe she'd just moved back from Europe? It was after Nick, that was certain. "So the maps?"

Her daughter smirked and flipped her memo book to the right pages. Vivian's ability to sketch was something that had shown up in college, probably directly related to dating Pia. Before that, Gail remembered being worried that the child didn't draw like everyone else. Her peers drew. Houses, families, things like that. Vivian just said she didn't want to draw anything and curled up with a book instead.

But there, in the memo book, were three accurate sketches of the park from two years before the first storm, how it was after, and then what it was like now. Vivian had labeled, in a neat hand she must have learned from Elaine, because God knew the rest of them didn't give a shit, where the body would have been buried in each location.

The body. How horrible it was to think of her friend's dead fiancé as 'the body.' Gail sighed at herself and flipped between the maps. "They had the old maps available?"

"No." As Gail looked up, Vivian looked smug. "They're still looking for the old maps. I used Google's TARDIS."

Gail laughed softly. One April Fools Day, Google had joked about how the TARDIS stood for 'time and rotational displacement in space' and applied it to their maps. For twenty-four hours, you could look at the world using Google Maps' satellite and street views for specific days going back for as long as they'd had maps. The only reason it stuck around was that someone in New York spotted a murder on one, reported it, and a cold case was solved. "Too bad they didn't do the heat maps back then."

"Global Warming mapping didn't help. I checked, but I guess ... " Vivian paused. "I guess she was too decomposed." She chewed her lower lip.

"It's always this weird when it's family," Gail said quietly.

"Why are we keeping it in house now? You always said that if you were too close to the case, you kept off."

The last time that had happened, it was a dead man in Lisa and Kate's condo. Turned out to be the maintenance man, garden variety heart attack, but two high priced professionals made it something the mayor wanted Gail's team on. Irony. She joked about how she'd always wanted to see Lisa behind bars again, which Kate had not known about.

But for the most part, that wasn't a problem. "Bethany is before I knew John. Before he worked at Fifteen. He was investigated and cleared over her disappearance years ago. And he's a cop. There really isn't a 'safe' way to dig into this, but we're the highest rated for internal investigations."

Vivian nodded. "It's just... He's family. What if he did it?"

Gail's gut knew John didn't. She sighed. "You know... A long time ago, a bomb went off in evidence here. Wasn't a bomb, really, but we didn't know that. What we knew was the last person to go into evidence was Steve. And he used Oliver's keycard. And he put a box in, that was at the epicenter of the explosion."

Eyes wide, Vivian asked the obvious. "But Uncle Steve didn't do that. Did he?"

"What if he did? What if I told you I covered it up, me and Frankie, and we made it look like an accident?"

Vivian looked slapped. Like the world just ripped itself out from under her. "But..."

Shaking her head, Gail closed the memo book. "I've already looked at the world where someone I love might be evil. Might do evil. I know the evil that men do, Viv. If John turns out to be one... I'd rather _we_ stop him." Gail knew, firsthand, what an evil man looked like. She looked it in the eye and lost to it once. She'd seen the look in someone who gave up and someone who survived. And she never once saw a thing except survival in John.

Vivian swallowed and nodded. "They cut her leg off."

"I haven't read the whole autopsy. Peri or post mortem?"

"Post. Mom- Dr. Stewart said the leg was removed after she had been dead a while. They took one of her femur's though. That's creepy, right?"

"Entirely. Head bashed in, missing limbs. Reeks of serial killer." Gail stopped abruptly and stared into the distance. "Oh."

"Yeah, she's looking at that." Vivian scratched the back of her head, just like Gail and Steve did. "That is... That would be an insane coincidence."

"Not really. Every few years Holly thinks she's making headway on the case." The head-basher case had caused Holly some sleepless nights over the decades.

"But you just assigned John to help."

Gail pursed her lips. "At least that makes it unlikely he did it."

Matching the face, Vivian snorted. "Okay, fine. Now what?"

"Now. I'm going to autopsy to check on the results and see the body. You go get wonder boy Abercrombie and be our feet. Whatever Trujillo and Mayhew want, you do. You're their minions for the case."

Vivian frowned. "Because we found the body?"

"And only that." Gail smiled. "Don't go get an inflated head there."

"Good." Vivian grinned back. "Still miss me?"

"I do," admitted Gail. "Not as much since I see you every day. I heard Christian sleeps on your couch?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "He sleeps in the spare room. His landlord got arrested for tax evasion."

"Yikes. Remind me not to recommend him for D."

"Lara's applying, I helped her." Vivian shoved her memo book back into her pocket. "She'll be good."

Gail smiled. "You okay?"

"Is that Mom or Inspector asking?"

"Mom. I'm pretty shitty at this whole not momming you at work thing, though."

"Yeah, you kinda are." Vivian grinned. "I'm okay, Mom."

"Good." Gail jerked her chin. "Go solve crime." With a snappy salute, Vivian went back to the bullpen and right up to Mayhew, saying she'd been assigned to the case. As she went to her car, Gail texted Andy to tell her that the case was in-unit, and she was stealing Hanford and Peck.

At least she could stack the deck in her favor.

* * *

"Lucy, I'm home!"

Vivian looked up as Christian bumped the door open. "Dude, you know that show is like a hundred years old."

Her accidental roommate looked shocked. "No way."

"1951, loser. Dishes are you tonight."

Christian did the math, counting on his fingers. "No. No way, that's not 100 yet."

"I said _like_." She went back to chopping vegetables. "Anyway. I'm making dinner, you don't have to eat."

Holding up his hands, Christian backpedaled. "Lucy never cooked. I'll be good, I swear."

"Liar."

"Man, why are you even here? Aren't you going to hang with Drs. Stewart?"

Vivian shook her head. "Moms had a rough day, so my grandparents have gone to dinner. Together. Just the three of them." She rolled her eyes. "Go shower. You reek." Christian saluted and hauled his gear into his room. Vivian heard the shower turn on.

It was weirdly nice having Christian around as a roommate. After he explained he'd been wrong and how he'd misplaced his feelings, things got better. Vivian had dated her best friend. She understood the ways your head and heart could get easily confused and project what wasn't there. Feelings of love and romance were not the same as friendship and love.

Still. When she'd asked him to move in, it hadn't been an easy choice. It was a complicated situation. If it was Olivia, would it be better or worse? Worse. Definitely worse. Olivia was complicated in the wrong ways right now. She had a boyfriend, she was in another country, and she had moved on. So should Vivian.

"So, here's my real question," said Christian, walking out of his room with only a towel on. "We are young, attractive, twenty somethings. Why are we home?"

"Because I have to work and, as everyone knows, I kill the life of the party. Also thanks for making sure I'm gay, can you please put pants on?"

Christian sighed. "You, Vivian Peck, need to have more fun. What about the cute firefighter?"

"Didn't get her number. Haven't seen her at the club in four weeks." And in truth, she _had_ looked for McGann, Jamie, station 451. The woman was difficult to run into on purpose and she happened to work at the same station Shay did, which meant she couldn't just show up without Pecks finding out.

"You're not trying. She's a firefighter. Isn't your aunt a captain? Can't she help?"

"Shay, cousin, no. She's a Peck." And Pecks, in general, did not like firefighters. Not even their own family. Gail was somewhat more indifferent about it, but Vivian couldn't always tell what was Gail ribbing for fun and what was actually a sticking point. Her mothers weren't racists, but Gail was certainly elitist. Once she'd pointed out that Gail was really like Lisa in that way, and Gail had been vociferously unhappy about it. And the last thing she wanted was to ask Shay, who would tell Holly or (worse) Gail, about the cute firefighter. Especially since Shay was the captain of station 451. Fuck.

Looking thoughtful, Christian stole a slice of red pepper. "You think she'll care?" She was clearly Gail in that moment.

"Dunno. Not really in a rush to find out." Vivian sighed. "Anyway. Doesn't really matter. It was just nice to have someone interested in me."

"Dude, you're blind." Christian shook his head. "Lots of girls are into you. Guys too, not that you care. But they all think you're some kind of ice princess."

"Excellent, my carefully cultivated 'don't ask me about my personal life' is working." She smiled and tossed the vegetables into the pan. "Speaking of personal shit, are you sleeping any better?"

With a loud sigh, Christian went to the laundry machine. "Yes. Thank you."

When they'd spent a week in summer at the cottage, Olivia and Vivian sharing her room and Matty and Christian in Steve's, the scream from Christian had woken up the house. Gail had burst in to the boys' room and was there for the nine year old. She'd taken Christian out to the dock to walk and relax, sitting with him for hours. Of the kids, Vivian knew what had happened but not why. Night terrors were something she'd been familiar with after all.

But all she told their friends was that it was a bad dream. Even when she'd figured out that he was the baby who'd been kidnapped years ago. The stories from Andy and Chloe made sense all of the sudden. But that was his secret and she had hers and that was fine.

And he got the point. If her ghosts sat too close to make casual dating a thing, well. His kept him from getting serious. C was probably always going to have trust and control issues.

"Anyway, I'm serious about the work thing. I caught the cold case. We're supposed to be up to speed on the whole history by morning, and then we have to walk the route that they think she took. Figure out why she ended up in the park."

Christian scrunched up his face, taking his unfolded, but clean, laundry to his room. "We means you and Rich? Please tell me you're not cooking for two for him."

"Nah, cooking is like meditation." Gail had mentioned it shut up the voice in her head that badgered her self esteem. When Vivian had gotten older, and past the stage where she wanted to imitate what her adopted mothers did in order to feel more like them, she found that cooking was calming.

Her roommate came back out, in jeans and a green shirt. "Is it really John's ... Uh..."

"Fiancé? Yeah. DNA was solid."

Christian shuddered. "Jesus. Thirty years and you had to find her."

That part was weird. "I thought about how that was creepy all afternoon."

After work had been her regular therapy appointment, which was Vivian's other reason for cooking. Her brain needed downtime after an hour and a half with her doctor. When she'd explained that to Christian, that she needed the break once a month, he'd been willing to accommodate as best he could. So today, after work, he went to play basketball with the guys and she sat down on a couch and talked about things.

Her moms always said she didn't have to keep going. Vivian felt like she needed to, though. Sometimes her head was a confusing mess of memories and thoughts and feelings. Reflecting on how she'd found her uncle's dead fiancé, Vivian was walking into a night fraught with uncomfortable dreams.

"Did Gail know her?"

"No. It was before they met." It was before Gail was a cop even. She forgot, sometimes, that John was older. John was Steve's age. He'd known and worked with Frankie before coming to Fifteen, though, and joked that he could have just waited sixteen years and work for Gail anyway.

With a sigh, Christian nodded. "Do you need help?"

"Probably. But I'm going to lock myself in my room after dinner and become one with the files."

"Lucky you."

As promised, she locked herself in her room and spread out the files on her floor. Perching crosslegged on the bed, Vivian stared at them. This was how Holly did things. Look down. Find patterns. She'd already done the Gail thing and read them front to back. But Vivian wasn't Gail and didn't have that fucking annoying recall (seriously, she'd learned never to say something off the cuff to Gail if she didn't want to hear it back later before she was ten).

Okay. So what did she know? Bethany Mills had come home at a little after three on a Tuesday. It was cold and wet, and she'd been at university. John hadn't expected her home until later, and was mid-decoration of their shitty apartment. He was proposing. Bethany came in, her best friend with her, and John stupidly just held out the ring. She said yes.

Four days later, she said she needed to think and was going to her friends, but she loved him. The friend, Sarah Shiffman, said that Bethany came over and talked about how she was having second thoughts. Not about John, just about marriage. Bethany loved John, but worried they were rushing into marriage because her parents wanted it. Then she said she was going home to talk to John...

Bethany Mills never made it home.

They searched the obvious path home from Shiffman's, as well as the non-obvious. They searched the paths John said that Bethany liked. She was an outdoorsy person, after all. She loved hiking and camping. That explained why Bethany was found in the park.

Vivian groaned and rubbed her face, flopping back on the bed. "I hate this."

Of all the things Vivian wanted, being a detective in homicide was clearly not going to be one. Digging into motives and thoughts and ideas was not fun. And neither was death. Homicide came too late. Guns and Gangs worked with losers. Undercover... Well that could be fun, she had to admit.

Picking up her phone from her nightstand, she texted Holly.

_How do you deal with always working the end?_

Her mother didn't reply right away. Vivian sighed and sat up. "Okay, Peck. What happened next? Goes for a walk in the park to clear her head?" She tried to picture having second thoughts like that and failed. Not that she'd ever had first thoughts about marriage or anything like it, but even the story of how Elaine and Bill had gotten married did not include doubts.

What was she doubting about marriage? The long term commitment? They'd read Bethany's Facebook account and found nothing useful there. She changed her status to engaged, posted a photo of John and her, flaunting the ring, and then ... Gone. Her mothers had never run away like that. Well. Except for the fight at the Penny, but that wasn't after five years of dating.

Her phone buzzed.

_It's never easy. But it's better than dealing with the people while they hurt._

Vivian sighed. She wasn't that much like Holly. No more or less than like Gail, at least.

_I don't like coming in this late. I feel like I can't do anything._

_You can find the truth. Give people closure. Answers._

_Does it help?_

_Me or them?_

_Both?_

Her phone rang. "You okay, honey?"

Vivian flopped back on her bed. "No. I can't figure out why someone would ... Vanish. Why did she leave John?"

"This is really more of a Gail question," said Holly slowly.

"Mom hates people, Mom. How the hell does she get motive?"

Holly made a noise. "Oh. I see." Her mother laughed in an unfunny way. "Okay. You know your Mom and I broke up once."

"Sure, Aunt Lisa told me about that."

"And you know why?"

That gave Vivian pause. "Mostly? Mom's feelings were hurt and you didn't back her up when Lisa was a bitch, and Mom was kinda immature about how she handled it?"

Holly chuckled. "I wasn't much better. I was too dismissive of Lisa, and forgot how it felt to be the new lesbian on the block. We were both insecure and unsure of ourselves. I was in love with a straight girl-" Vivian's laugh cut her off. "Shush. Your mother was, for all practical purposes, straight until she met me. And yes, that worried the hell out of me. So when Lisa said I should get in and get out before anyone got hurt, I seriously thought about it."

What? Vivian's eyes widened. "You thought about breaking up with Mom?"

"Before I broke her heart, or she broke mine. Of course, it was too late, but how could I know that?" Holly sighed. "Point is when you're young, you worry about things that grown up you thinks is stupid."

Interesting thought. "I know why Mom hates marriage. Did you?"

"Oh. Not really. I just grew up in a world where lesbians couldn't get married. So I never thought it was a possibility. By the time it was, I had been saying no for so long, it was a paradigm shift."

And by contrast, for Vivian's whole life, marriage had been legal for homosexual and heterosexual couples. "Huh. Well that sure isn't why Bethany wasn't sure about marriage."

"No, probably not," agreed Holly. She could hear the smile. "Anyway, as your mother explained it, you're not supposed to solve the case."

"Not trying to. I'm supposed to retrace Bethany's steps, go where she went. Figure out how she ended up where we found her. And ... It's really hard. I can't understand why."

Holly hesitated. "Honey, why did you text me and not Gail?"

The way Holly asked, Vivian knew what she meant. It wasn't her mother being dismissive of her questions, nor was it trying to pass a buck. Holly was trying to get Vivian to think about why she wanted to ask Holly about a case and not Gail, who already knew more about the motives. Clearly she wasn't asking about motive and criminal behaviors.

Vivian gnawed her lower lip. "Okay. So... It's a people thing. Mom hates people. She gets criminals but vics that aren't kids, she's not super sympathetic."

With a soft laugh, Holly agreed. "That is entirely true."

Vivian took a deep breath. "You're not a people doctor because you feel for them. And it hurts too much. So ... I kinda thought ... It felt like a you conversation?"

Her mother made a noise of understanding. "Okay. You should just keep thinking of that. Why it felt like me. And try to get some sleep. You'll be on your feet all day."

"Yeah." Vivian smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

"Any time, sweetie."

Hanging up, Vivian stretched across her bed and stared at the ceiling. Why did she call her mother? Why Holly? Did Bethany feel like Holly? Kind of. She was sporty enough. What had she been wearing? Rolling over, Vivian scrambled to the end of the bed and grabbed her tablet. Modern notes, modern device. The recovery report had her notes as well as a full catalogue of her personal items.

Shoes, high end cross trainers. Normal jeans (Guess?). Remnants of the shirt and sweater were cotton and wool. It matched the photos Vivian had seen. Bethany was practical. She had a parka, appropriate given the weather, gloves, and notebooks.

Those were being logged into evidence now, but were heavily degraded due to the elements. That they were recoverable at all astounded Vivian. Actually, that bordered on unbelievable... She tapped the information on the notes. A full spec analysis was being done, but the quick tests showed it to be non permeable paper.

Who the fuck used non permeable paper?

* * *

"RiteRain field books," sang Holly, proudly. "R-I-T-E."

The collection of cops (two Pecks, Hanford, and someone named Mayhew) stared at her. Gail's lips curved into a smirk. "RiteRain? Two Rs? Who the hell came up with that?"

"A company called Pierson, Ericsonn, and Lief. They were military contractors back in the 70s for the US and Canada. Before that they were working with the Fischer company." Holly stopped and grinned, waiting for enlightenment to dawn.

It hit her daughter first. "Oh!" She fumbled and pulled her own memo book out, unclipping her personal pen. A Fischer Space Pen. "They made non-permeable paper for military grade field notes, so it could withstand extreme weather and not lose data!" Vivian turned to Rich, "Old school tough books."

Rich frowned. "She had waterproof notebooks? Who the fuck does that?"

"The daughter of an army Colonel," said Gail softly. "Col. Todd Mills, fought in Afghanistan twice. Actually knows Constable Collins." Gail rubbed her chin. "How are your lab rats at getting the data from the notebooks?"

Holly raised a finger. "Amazing, but it's time consuming. Apparently no one's ever tried to recover the contents after his many years of exposure. I had to call the company this morning and they sent me an expert."

While patient, Gail gave her a look asking Holly to summarize. "ETA?"

"I estimate at least three days for everything." Before any of the cops could protest, Holly quickly added. "So! I prioritized finding the most recent information first and had them concentrate on that. I know. I'm awesome."

Gail's hands moved, signing 'nerd' quickly. "Thank you." She smiled. "Okay. Hanford and Peck, retrace her steps. Mayhew, stay at the lab. Anything Dr. Stewart or her minions need, you get. Pronto."

There was a chorus of "yes, ma'am"'s from the other cops and they departed. Vivian gave her mothers a quick side-look, a slight widening of her eyes. Rolling her eyes at Vivian, Gail lingered. "You didn't mention anything about the leg bone."

Holly winced. "That's a different kettle of fish. I don't have the other end of the marks to compare it to, and condyles aren't generally known to be identical or even mirror images. Even identical twins have differing ones, which makes sense when you think of growth as subjective and not predetermined." When Gail looked confused, she amended. "The knobby bits on the end of your bones. Condyles." Holly picked up a pen and drew on her whiteboard. "Here's the femur. Someone sliced through the muscles and tendons on Bethany's hip and knee joints, based on the nicks on the remaining bone."

"That was in your autopsy report." Gail didn't sound accusatory or annoyed. She was just stating the facts.

"Right. But this goes back to the other case. The damage on Bethany's skull was indented irregularly, or so I'd thought. It matches the same kind of damage I've seen in the other similar head bashing attacks."

"You mean by the knobby bits on legs?"

"Precisely. This one, the one closest to the other knee, is called the medial femoral condyle. The outer one is the femoral. Obviously different shapes."

Dryly, Gail agreed. "Obviously."

Holly smirked. "Hush. The wound on Bethany's head shows the distinct shape of a femoral condyle. You can see here..." She flipped open her files and tapped the skull X-ray. "It has the curve here."

Leaning over, Gail squinted and then put her glasses on. "It looks bigger than her own knobby bits. What's the size range?"

"That one is a horse's leg."

Gail's head snapped up, glasses slipping down her nose. "What the actual fuck? You mean _her_ leg is the one that they used to bash people's heads in?"

"Evidence suggests it. Can't tell for sure without a sample, but I measured the size of her remaining femur and it's not inconsistent with the damage on six other attacks."

"I hate when you say it like that," snarled Gail.

Holly beamed. "You're adorable when you wear your reading glasses."

Gail shook her head and tucked the glasses into a pocket. "Not inconsistent means you need ... an exemplar?"

"I'd rather have the horse bone, frankly. We managed to use the impressions and scans from all the injuries to come up with a pretty good model."

"Ooooh. Did you get to use the 3D printer?" Gail was as gleeful as a child.

So was Holly. "I did! They made a quarter sized model as a trial. Wanna come to the hospital and see it with me?" It would take too long and cost too much to make a full sized model that would actually work (one she could use to make actual, full force impressions with), more was the pity. This was her proof of concept.

Gail's phone beeped. "I do, but ... I need to check on the other end of this. Swarek is interviewing John in half an hour."

"Swarek?" Even though she didn't work with him much, and even though it had been a number of years since their social circles had intersected, Holly still did not like Sam Swarek. The fact that he bothered young Vivian for reasons she'd not been able to explain was enough.

"Limited choices," sighed Gail. "John's like me. Find me someone who doesn't know him. Swarek's high ranking enough, reliable ... Well, reliable enough." Gail made a face. "Anyway. I got IA to clear him. He's been outside Fifteen long enough that he's an outsider. He was in Fifteen long enough that he knows us. It's about as perfect as I can get."

Holly scowled. "But you're supervising?"

"Well. Something good has to come out of me outranking that son of a bitch." Leaning in, Gail kissed her cheek lightly. "Thank you. For the lab stuff. It helps."

"I'll text you if I get anything from the bones."

"You're the expert, Dr. Stewart!"

Watching her wife leave, Holly smiled. They had tried so hard to keep personal and professional separate. It was never going to work since, for both of them, their jobs were a huge part of their lives. After some years of struggle, Holly had simply asked Elaine how she'd made it work with Bill. After all, they'd been in love once. And regardless, there were a million Pecks around.

Her mother-in-law's advice was to accept that the borders would be crossed. Try to carve time out where they didn't let work intrude on their relationships, and be honest with each other when they felt it was too much. Oh. Speaking of personal and professional intersecting... Holly picked up her phone and tapped Elaine's number.

Elaine spoke right away. "If it's about Ms. Mills, I've already heard from Steven."

"Sorry," Holly said and winced.

"Let me know by tomorrow what you think the status is. We can postpone the party, but Gail would cheerfully tell me it'll take a week to get out of it. You, sweetheart, will be honest."

It was funny. Holly couldn't remember when Elaine had started calling her sweetheart. Maybe it had been when Gail went missing. She'd only realized it much later. It wasn't until the time that Vivian had dislocated her shoulder falling off a gymnastic something or another, doing a trick she'd been expressly forbidden from attempting without supervision, and Holly had lost her mind shouting at her daughter. That was the day Elaine had hauled both Gail and Holly out of the room and sat them down until they calmed.

Once they were willing to listen, she explained how teenagers did things, trying to find their limits, trying to see who they were and what they could do. And the terror they were feels was normal. Then Elaine went and explained to Vivian that her mothers were screaming because they were scared and they loved her. And her strange, smart, daughter, a little loopy on the muscle relaxants needed to fix her shoulder, had snorted. She'd sounded just like Holly being dismissive over stupid explanations of this she knew. Vivian had said that was obvious. Of course her mothers were crazy but she loved them too.

So now, of course Holly was going to be honest with her mother-in-law. She owed a lot to Elaine. "I don't think we'll solve it unless someone has a genius moment." Holly paused. "You remember that unsolved case with the people bashed in the head and left for dead by cars?"

Elaine snorted. "Of course. That's been going on since before I was an officer." Then she paused. "Oh dear. But Ms. Mills was found by a tree?"

"Yeah, that part is weird. But one femur is missing, and her other is broken. Looks like the perp managed to fracture it while removing, so my supposition is that he broke it to cover it up."

"That seems stupid. You might notice the other one missing."

"Perhaps they're hoping we think the other was also broken and misplaced over the years due to erosion and animals."

Elaine made a noise. "Lucky them that the smartest pathologist Toronto has had in fifty years happened upon their case."

For the first time in years, Holly blushed over the praise. And then she deflected. "Who did you have fifty years ago?"

"Walter Reese."

"He is quite legendary," admitted Holly. He'd been one of her idols. "Did you work with him?"

"I did. He lived up to the legend. Though I suspect in another fifty years, your name will be spoken with similarly hallowed phrases."

"See, now you're just sucking up, Elaine."

There was an impishness to the reply. "Can you blame me? I can't curry favor with my children so I have to use you and Vivian."

"Annnd now we're back to honesty," teased Holly.

"Honestly, do you think you'll be able to take your vacation?"

Holly sighed and looked at the files on her desk. "Honestly. Yes. Either we'll have an answer of some type by Friday morning or Gail will be threatening people and the world will thank you for making her take a long weekend."

"I often found a long weekend helpful. Bill and I used to go to the cottage for that."

Blushing, Holly could not admit the same. "That's a good idea."

Elaine was clever, though. She had two children and Gail's sense of humor was certainly related. So was her cavalier attitude towards sex. "Gail was started up at the cabin," announced Elaine, blithely.

After twenty years, Holly was used to it. "I thought she was the accident."

"She was. Bill was about to go undercover, so we went to the cottage. Al was babysitting Steve."

Holly shook her head. "As delightful it may be to think about how my wife was conceived at the cottage," she said dryly, "I'd like to put my due diligence on my case."

Her mother-in-law laughed. "If I don't hear from you, I'll see you Friday at six PM. Please remind Gail she promised to wear a dress."

"No problem there." Holly loved Gail in a dress. "She picked out a nice red one."

"Thank you, dear. Solve crime. Be amazing. I'll handle everything else."

"Will do." She hung up and laughed at the normal farewell a person got from Elaine. All this time and she still wasn't terribly affectionate.

Looking at the files, Holly turned her mind back to work. Why was this the only case without a car?

* * *

The match Gail eventually found was unexpected. Not the injury but the circumstances surrounding it. "Found your vehicle, Doc," Gail said into her phone.

Her wife snorted. "Gail, I told you there isn't a single death via head injury case that time frame in any database."

"You looked the wrong way. I, on the other hand, looked for all crimes involving cars, Vespas, and bicycles based on this awesome theory the best doctor in the nation had. And what we have is a survivor."

She could hear Holly's muttered curse. "Are you shitting me?"

"Nope! And young Peck had a theory I'm letting her run down."

Holly snorted again. "You know, honey. I get why you call me by my title at work, but calling our daughter 'Young Peck' is not working for me."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Well excuse me for not having Oliver's talent for nicknames."

"I told you to buy that book of Dad Jokes when we adopted," teased Holly.

"You're the one listed as her father, nerd," Gail sassed right back. She grinned. Bantering like this was a familiar comfort. "Don't you want to hear how brilliant our child is?"

Holly laughed softly. "Fine. What genius did our girl do?"

"She took my list of all car, scooter, motorcycle, and bicycle related crimes in a four mile radius for the day Bethany went missing, handily cross referenced it with all hospital records of head injuries, and came up with four possible victims."

"So far this sounds like you did the genius."

"Doesn't it? Except junior saw a pattern we all missed. The make of car."

Holly cursed down the line. "Are you kidding me? The last car we found was a damn Barracuda! What pattern could their be?"

"Remember your theory about multiple killers?" Gail beamed and tapped enter, sending the information to her wife. "Little asshole matched up some cars to killings, which gave her an idea of exactly which one of the fifteen possible people was the victim. Finds a kid who was mugged on his Vespa, which she matched up to another crime a week before on the same make and model of scooter. _Then_ she tells Mayhew that obviously the situation had to be Bethany saw the attack in progress, tried to intervene, ran, got hit, went down, and was killed."

Her wife was silent for a while. "Does her theory explain why the femur was taken?"

"She thinks the original horse bone broke in the tussle. Which matches your data that it wasn't used in the last thirty years." Gail had gone over that herself, multiple times.

"Now .. That is interesting. The bones would be weakened by repeated uses. I wonder how many attacks before it fractured. We can test that. And if the bone shattered or other broke on impact with Bethany's skull then the damage would be more shallow... Okay, I'll call you back! Love you."

"Love you to, nerd. Remember to eat lunch."

"You too. Bye." A jubilant Holly hung up.

Gail shook her head. Giving Holly a bone to gnaw, literally, would keep her busy for hours. And it may have been what they needed to find some answers. "It was pretty clever," she said to herself.

Fresh eyes were often a godsend to a case. Her daughter, who claimed to have no inclination to detective work, had a grasp of human understanding that gave her insight. Rage, misdirected anger, was something Vivian internalized at a young age. It wasn't that Vivian _couldn't_ be a good detective, it was that she probably didn't want to spend her days mired in that kind of activity. Even if Vivian had never verbalized the feeling in those words, Gail understood it now.

The knock at her door caught her attention. "Come on in, Swarek."

"That's creepy."

"I work on it." She kicked her chair around, facing the door. "Thank you. For ..." Gail waved a hand.

Swarek leaned in the doorway and nodded. "Welcome. It's ... You know I can't do much for you guys. But I can do that." He meant Fifteen and Gail knew it.

"You won't hear it from them, but it's appreciated."

"Yeah." He scratched his chin and looked awkward. There was clearly something on his mind. Gail looked up at him and waited. Maybe she could put off conversations about McNally for an hour. "Is Steve really retiring?"

Okay. Not what she expected. "Summer. Yeah." Gail leaned back and looked up at Sam. "He was in your class?"

"Yeah. Noelle was the year behind us. It's weird to ... We're all going." Sam looked uncomfortable. "John was in between us." Sam gestured between themselves. "And John's already thinkin' he'll retire. It's funny. Y'know?"

The math jumped into Gail's head. Frankie was also in their class and, like McNally, a few years younger than the Peck she'd graduated with. Similarly, Sam was younger than Steve, though by less. Frankie had never gone to college. Sam had done two years. It threw you off. She thought of all those people as being her age because they hung out and worked together.

"Yeah. It is." She sighed. "John keeps saying he'll retire because of age. Because Viv's a cop. Because his mom died." She looked past Sam at John's desk. "But he's still here."

"And you?" Sam tilted his head. "You're still here."

"Nowhere else to be."

Swarek laughed. "That ain't true. Maybe it was when you were a rook. Maybe when you were younger and stupid..." He smirked. "Remember when we sat and chatted in my truck because everyone hated you?"

Gail blinked and laughed. "Right and McNally was sure we were screwing, and hated me more. She thought I slept with Callaghan too." Rolling her eyes, Gail propped her feet up in her desk. "Good times."

"They hated me too."

"You dumped the perky girl guide," pointed out Gail. "And do not blame me on the divorce fallout."

"Never would." Sam looked around the office. "Point is... The building, three whole divisions, they fucking jumped because you needed them. Me included."

Gail frowned. "Only person I asked for a favor was you."

"I know. That don't count since I owed you." When Gail frowned more he smiled. "Ollie told me about the surgeon. The heart guy."

The air sucked out of Gail. "I'm going to kill him."

But Sam laughed. "Y'know I'm the only one you have to ask. Everyone else, they see you doing the right thing. Day in, day out, you fought back and kept on. And now? You do something and everybody sees someone who didn't let the shit of being a Peck, nearly getting killed, taking her folks to the cleaners over corruption, getting her brother cleared on bomb charges... They see you never let anyone's opinion of you, good or bad, stop you from doing right."

She stared at him. "That sounds damn opportunistic of me, Sam."

"Yeah? Makes you sound like the kinda cop I want to have my back." He jerked his chin at her.

It was uncomfortable. Gail frowned. "I'm not sure where you're going."

Sam looked up. "Yeah. I know." He sighed. "Congratulations. You and the doc. Twenty. I... It's funny as hell, you being the success story, the one who got it right. But. I'm real proud that I get to say, when folks ask me if I know Inspector Peck, that I cut her tie off when she was a rook." Sam smiled the annoying smile he had, the smarmy one that Andy liked and Gail hated. He pushed off the door frame. "I'm real glad I got to work with you as long as I did, Peck."

Stunned, Gail could only nod and watch Sam leave.

If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was going to eat his gun.

It took her a long time to realize that was the only present Sam Swarek could give to her. To the woman who forcibly destroyed his first marriage and directed him to his second. To the woman who'd never, publicly, taken one side or the other in the Division when he left. To the woman who quietly found him a safe place somewhere else.

This was his thanks, sincere and honest, for letting a fuck up have a chance.

She sighed and pulled her phone out as she headed home that night.

_You're a total dick, Swarek._

_You're welcome, Peck._

Gail smirked and shook her head. "Asshole."

* * *

While Vivian had the heart of the case, Christian, Lara, and Jenny were on dog detail. She'd made the map for them, detailing out what she determined the most likely path was for Bethany, leaving her friend's house, the passing of a mugging gone wrong, and the probable route through the woods. Because Bethany would have run.

And while Jenny teased her about the map, Lara had been impressed. She'd wanted to know where Vivian had learned that particular skill. Sgt. McNally had been impressed too, letting her know it would go in her review. In a good way. How stupid. Just because she could draw a straight line.

"Hey, I know you're annoyed, but can you not kill us?" Rich had his hand braced on the frame of the car.

"I have the record high for the driving course," snapped Vivian.

"I know. But I don't want to puke before we interview Mr. Cage."

Vivian glanced over and sighed, slowing down. "Sorry."

"All good. Didn't know you had moods, Peck."

She shot Rich a look. "Seriously?"

Her partner smiled. "I mean, you have a major chip on your shoulder. Which, having met your relatives, I totally get."

"Do you even have a point?"

"I do, I do. It's this. You are in a bad mood and I don't know why. You figured out an awesome theory that the Ds and the lab loves. You made a killer map. You're kinda godlike now. So why the mood?"

Vivian frowned and pulled up at the light. "Rich. What makes you think we're going to solve this case?"

"Uh. By your parents anniversary?"

"No, I mean ever. It's been twenty two years that my Mom, Dr. Stewart, has been looking into this case. Two-two. There's no way it's getting solved just because we found the dead body of my _other_ mom's partner."

"Come on," said Rich, disagreeing. "You don't think now is the time we're heroes and solve it?"

"I think my family's about to have the most fucked up, schadenfreudian weekend possible." She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay, take it this way. You think this guy's really going to remember anything about who hit him on the head that long ago?"

There was a weird, abnormal silence from Rich. "I don't think I'll forget Bobby's face," he said quietly.

Vivian winced. "You know, I'm a fucking expert at shoving my feet in my mouth," she told Rich, apologetically.

"Yeah, ya are." He shook his head. "It's weird what you remember."

On the tip of her tongue, Vivian had the words 'I know.' And they died on her lips. She sighed. Not that she really wanted to tell Rich, but it was interesting to see that barrier was still there. "What do you remember?"

"I don't remember it hurting. I mean, it did in the hospital."

"You sure complained a lot like it hurt."

"The smoke hurt. The shot... No. I think my brain just said fuck it and stopped processing." He shrugged. "You ever break a bone?"

"Does my nose count?"

"Really?" Rich laughed. "That's all? With all that monkey shit you do?"

"I've been lucky." She'd sprained, pulled, tweaked, bent, bruised, dislocated, and otherwise banged herself to hell, but Vivian had managed not to break anything. The closest was the time the kid on her soccer team laid her out flat and Gail flipped out, thinking Vivian had been knocked out. Or the time she'd taken a field hockey ball to the small of her back and been in agony for a week. Even the dislocated shoulder was normal-gymnastics related. The vault was a mother fucker, and also something she'd not supposed to have been doing without a coach.

"How have you never broken a bone?"

"Had my appendix out? And I dislocated my shoulder." She shrugged. "I did get shot in the vest. That hurt."

The radio squawked, interrupting them. "1507, Dispatch. I have an update from the lab for you."

Rich leaned over and picked up the handset. "Dispatch, 1507. Hanford. What's up?"

"Dr. Stewart says 'bone chips.'"

Vivian laughed and slapped the steering wheel. "Awesome."

A little confused, Rich eyed her but replied. "Copy that, Dispatch." He then asked Vivian for clarification. "Wanna explain that one?"

"She found bone chips from the horse femur in the remains."

"Oh! So you were right?"

Vivian shrugged. "It was logical..."

"Why didn't she text?"

"She probably can't find her phone right now." Vivian shrugged. "Or she knows we're en route." Actually they were nearly done. Vivian pulled up to the residence and frowned at the sign. Bedford Health. Why did she know that name? Cage had lived here for eight years. He was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury, but it wasn't centered in the communication regions. Simply put, Cage didn't talk because he didn't want to, or he had a block.

As they walked inside, a cantankerous, ancient, man shouted at her. "Peck!" Both Rich and Vivian startled. The man was pointing at her. "You're the sarcastic blonde's kid!"

"Seriously?" Rich stifled a laugh.

"Hush." But that reminded Vivian and she turned to the manager. "Did you guys get robbed like twenty years ago?"

The manager, a tired man, nodded. "We did... Mr. Peterson, please don't offend the police officers."

"I can't offend that one! She'll just roll her eyes. Look, Maryanne, it's her."

Rich was still nearly laughing. "How..."

"They had a tour bus robbed. It's ... Uh. I met them at a funeral like a decade ago." She was a little surprised to see some of them were still alive. "It's okay, sir. Is Mr. Cage ready?"

"Almost." The manager looked lost.

"Why don't you get him? We can wait here."

The manager, relived, hustled off. "Sorry," said the old man. "The management are puppies. Come here, little Peck."

Rich gave up and laughed. Vivian elbowed him and walked over. "I'm really sorry, sir, but... I don't remember you."

"Pish posh, you were what, twelve? And all of us old guys look the same" He beamed. "Archie. I'm the one who got Oliver the suit."

Viviana eyes widened. "Oh! Wow. I don't think I knew your name, sir."

"It's _Archie_ , please."

Grinning, Vivian nodded. "Archie."

"Look at you, Officer Peck. You must make your moms proud."

"I try," said Vivian with a shrug. "Oliver's still married, by the way."

"I was going to ask." The old man laughed. "Let's send him a salfie!" Vivian obliged, taking a photo and sending it to Ollie, grinning. "Why are you here? Someone get robbed again?"

"Nah, we have to talk to Mr. Cage about something that happened a long time ago."

Rich looked panicked. "Hey! We can't tell 'em about that!"

The collected elderly folk laughed. "Who are we going to tell?"

Someone else joked, "Don't tell Carole! She tweets everything!"

Vivian smirked. "Rich it's cool."

Archie eyed Rich and then asked, conspiratorially, "Is he a rules guy."

"The last time he wasn't, it was a messy thing," replied Vivian. "And he has a point. I can't give you details."

Waving a hand, Archie leaned in. "You won't get any from Cagey. He got whalloped in the noggin when he was your age." Archie rapped his head. "Can't say shit."

" _Doesn't_ say anything," corrected another little old man. "He can talk. Remember when Martin stole his cupcake?"

As Archie made a noise of understanding, Vivian felt excited. Jackson Cage had been hit in the head. They knew that. But a man who didn't talk _much_ unless he was angry meant he was a man of passion. He was possibly a man stuck in the past. She listened as the residents told them about how Cage was a man of few, if any, words. Mostly he growled and snarled.

The manager came back in and explained that Cage was in his office, so they went in and took seats across from him. "Hello, Mr. Cage," said Rich, smiling.

Jackson Cage looked away and said nothing.

After a moment of hesitation, Rich went on. "We were hoping you'd talk to us about the mugging, by your Vespa -"

The man made a snarl noise.

Vivian eyed the manager, who was biting his thumbnail. Rich gently tried to speak again, asking about the incident, but Cage kept snarling. This wasn't working. When there was a pause in the 'conversation,' Vivian spoke up. "We found her."

Suddenly Cage locked eyes with Vivian. "Her."

"Yes. The person who hit you, we think they killed her-"

"Him."

She blinked. "Him. It was a he?"

Cage nodded. "Him."

Surprised, Rich took a deep breath. "Mr. Cage, do you remember what he looked like?"

And Cage nodded. A feeling of heaviness filled the room. Foreboding? No, it was the feeling of possibly knowing an answer. "Can you ... Can you describe him?" Vivian hated asking.

Cage shook his head. "No." He frowned at himself. "No. No." He clenched his fists and pounded them on his knees. Angry, he was angry and frustrated at his inabilities.

Oh yeah. Vivian understood that. She frowned, thinking, while the manager tried to calm Jackson down. Rich shared their frustration. "Crap I wish it was just sign language or something."

Vivian stared at her partner. Or something. How could they help people who couldn't communicate like the average person? Simply by giving them another form of expression. "Or something. Rich, you're a genius!" Vivian's outburst caught everyone by surprise. "Jackson. Can you help us find him?"

Now the man looked pained. "How?"

"Can you use a computer?"

* * *

Everyone was staring at the face projected on Gail's wall. Three detectives were there with two patrol officers, in addition to Gail and Holly and Rodney. Once they'd gotten an ID, Gail called an all hands in her office. Holly crossed her arms and frowned. "I don't like this," she said quietly.

"I hate it," said Gail.

"I expected it," said Vivian from the back.

Because the kid had said, vocally, she did not expect this to be a neat ending. It was a circular ending. The poor injured man, crippled and unable to speak, had been given new life when Vivian plunked him at the computer app to create sketches. After demonstrating how it worked, he had no problem in generating a face for them. He'd been delighted and happy to use the computer, something no one had had the genius to try with him before. Delighted at the change in his world, even if he couldn't find words to write any more than he could to speak, the man found joy in making pictures.

That wasn't the problem.

The problem was the face he'd found was one Holly knew.

After all, she'd performed his autopsy.

Almost as on, Gail and Vivian reached up to scratch the back of their heads. They seemed to be oblivious to the other. "Okay," said Gail slowly. "Our suspected killer is Gene Evans. Gene was killed next a stupid Miata."

"Popular street racing car," said Rich Hanford, lurking by Vivian. Holly found it amusing that he was visibly nervous to be in a room with all these people.

Of course Vivian was nonplussed. She'd known most of them for years. "Wasn't the first guy into horses and bicycles?"

"Gene was into scooters. Horses were his work." Gail sucked on her lower lip. "Classic scooters. So. You two are splitting up. Peck and Collins you go work with search and find me the leg bone. Human, horse, I want one. Hanford, you and Volk are on hipster detail. Find me classic vespas and some trace of Mr. Evans."

Holly smiled. It was nice to get to see her wife at work. "Rodney happens to love cars, so he's got that end of the case," explained Holly, gesturing at her Medical Director. "The bones is all me, though. I'm working on a model of horse femur, based on the damage from the various victims."

Gail grinned her saucy, super detective look. It always made Holly flush a little, and it did now. "Computer models?"

"Yes," Holly said, nodding and hoping no one noticed she found her wife that attractive while at work. "I scanned in all the x-rays. Since we already had them segregated by type, it was easier to sort out the models. It's new, though. The existing work of cgi modeling based on injuries is usually done with more consistent weapons, like bats. This is the first time anyone has tried it with bones." The night before, Gail had joked that Holly was creating a new field of study. She wasn't wrong.

Their jock of a daughter mused aloud. "If it were me, I'd have a handle on them." Everyone stared at the rookie cop. "What? Come on, you know how batters have those stupid rituals? They have to put their hands in the perfect spots? Well... I'd wrap one end as the handle, the one with the smaller bones-"

"They're using the condyle end, the knee adjacent part, to hit with," interrupted Holly, curious at the idea.

Vivian nodded. "Yeah, cause the hip bit broke. Right? She had degenerative hip thing? Osteo-something?"

"Osteonecrosis, avascular necrosis due to damaged veins from birth." It was a medical fact none of her family, nor John, had known, until her body was found. Bethany had complained about her hips most of her life, but now they knew why. "She would have needed hip replacement by forty."

"So! Since one leg broke on removal, I would have hacked off that end. Cut off the ball, sand it down, wrap it in leather or bat tape, something to keep it from losing my grip when I sweat. Cause murder's hard work, right?" Vivian mimed swinging. "Speed up the swing too, like choking up on a bat."

The look Holly got from Gail clearly implied she felt Vivian's sports knowledge was all Holly's fault. "Right," said Gail slowly. "Go chase your bone, then."

Clearly knowing the dismissal for what it was, Vivian smirked and tugged Rich out of the office. A heartbeat after the door closed, Rodney snorted a laugh. "I'm sorry, but she is totally your guys's kid."

"Don't make me hurt you, Rodney," threatened Gail. "Shoo. You too, Mayhew. Get Trujillo up to speed, I want you sharing the load. And Connors, you did good."

The others filed out, but Holly remained by the screen. "Are we calling it?"

"Eh, as much as it is unsatisfying, yes. We have the killer. We have motive and means and opportunity. We don't have the weapon and we don't know why Gene was whacking people on the head." Gail sighed and tapped her wireless keyboard, shutting down the display.

"At least we have some leads," offered Holly, soothingly. Frustrated Gail was difficult to work with. Case frustrated Gail could be impossible.

The blonde nodded. Newly re-blonded. That Gail had taken time to get her hair fixed was both amusing and depressing. If there had been any good information, Gail would have put it off and worked down to the wire. There wasn't much to gnaw on here, and Gail had taken the break to try and think it through. "Not enough. I'm going over to John's to break it down though."

"Need company?"

Gail sighed loudly. "Want, yes. But he doesn't need you and me, Holly. He might just get mad."

Holly frowned. "Mad? At us? Why would..." And it hit her. They were what John never got. They were the happy ever after. "Right. Then. I will see you at home?"

Nodding, Gail looked at the closed door and then held her hands out. It was a silent request for what Gail needed just then. Holly smiled and stepped into Gail's arms, letting her wife squeeze her tight for a moment. "I am really, really, fucking lucky, Holly," whispered Gail.

She squeezed back. "Me too." The kiss was brief, nearly chaste, and Holly let herself out while Gail slid back into Detective Inspector mode, her face easing into the calm, quietness.

It was fairly late when Gail got home that night, but Holly waited up. In hand was takeout from the Vietnamese noodle restaurant. They sat on the couch, as was their routine, Gail's feet in her lap, with a movie on. This time it was _The Name of the Rose_ , a movie which Gail enjoyed as much as the book, though for different reasons she said.

They'd seen it a hundred times. They knew the scenes. So neither minded chatting over the plot. Holly asked how John was and Gail explained he, and Janet, were weirdly okay. It was tough, but John said he felt better having an answer. A partial closure. Because Jackson Cage had been able to communicate enough to explain that yes, a woman who looked like Bethany had tried to help him, punched Gene Evans right in the nose.

And while they didn't have all the answers, they had a lot more information. Gene worked with houses, had a butchering knife, took out a man by his Vespa, was punched by Bethany, ran after her and... Died a hero, in terror and pain.

Holly wisely did not mention that.

She rubbed Gail's feet for a while, until Gail scooted around and tugged her into the easy cuddle they loved. Holly smiled as Gail's arms wrapped around her waist. It was safe and comfortable and warm there, in the noodle arms that Gail made fun of. Taking Gail's hand, Holly ran her thumb over the ring. She felt the smile as Gail's lips touched the side of her neck.

There didn't need to say anything to know they loved each other. It was funny. In the beginning, saying it and expressing it was so hard and so important. And now, now they'd found that place where they could just be and they didn't have to worry about the other doubting anything. They were who they were.

By the time the movie was over, Gail was all but asleep, still holding Holly, so they went to bed in the quiet house that, yes, was starting to feel too big.

The alarm went off at the normal time, five thirty AM, and Holly groaned. A pale arm snaked over her and slapped at the nightstand, futilely, until Gail growled. "Hey, Siri! Shut up!"

To Holly's surprise, her smart watch beeped and the alarm stopped. "Holy crow," she said, laughing.

"That actually works?! Fuck!" Gail pressed her face into Holly's back. "God. I hate mornings."

Holly laughed again and rolled over to face her wife. "Good morning, Mrs. Inspector Peck," she said softly.

Gail's eyes, scrunched closed in defiance of the alarm, popped open. The bright blue eyes that sucked Holly in so many times before sparkled in the morning light. "Good morning, Mrs. Doctor Stewart." She grinned wildly, broadly, in that all encompassing way that broke Holly's heart years ago. When Gail smiled that way, that freely, Holly wanted to surrender the world to her wife.

Especially today. Today was the actual anniversary.

Sure, they were going to work because it was Thursday and work needed doing. They had a case to close, or as much of close as could be hand. And they always went to work on their anniversary if it was a weekday. As a child, Vivian had been confused until Gail explained they'd married on their lunch break.

Which was why their tradition was to go to lunch and sit in the park together. Some years it was just fifteen or thirty minutes and then Holly was back to elbows deep in a body, or Gail was off to corner some criminal. But that was their time, their moment. It didn't need to be a huge party with a hundred people faking their deep feelings. It was thirty minutes, maybe an hour, of time with the most amazing person in her life.

And she knew Gail felt the same way. The look in those eyes, the twinkle and the smile, told Holly that Gail loved her strange, off beat, behavior. The blue eyes crinkled, more wrinkles now than twenty years ago, and Gail propped her head up on her hand. "Wanna be late to work?" Her gaze swept Holly's form appreciatively.

"Hmmm no." Somehow Holly managed to keep her face deadpan, even as Gail looked flabbergasted. "But I will trade my run for some alternative cardio."

The malicious smirk her wife was known for danced across Gail's face. "You are such a shit, Holly."

Grinning back, Holly reached for Gail's nightie and tugged her closer. "You like it when I'm a shit," she replied, pitching her voice low and as sultry as possible. Generally an easier feat in the morning.

Gail's reply was a half hum, half growl of appreciation, before she started to kiss Holly's neck. Sighing happily, Holly tilted her head to give Gail more access. "God your skin is amazing," said Gail, lips ruffling the hairs that had fallen out of Holly's night braid. Her free hand was already up and under Holly's shirt, gently scratching her stomach.

"Your hand is pretty amazing," said Holly, as Gail's hand slowly, tortuously, moved up her ribs.

"My hand has ideas of its own."

"Did you or your hand have something specific in mind this morning?"

And Holly's phone rang. "I will shoot your phone, Stewart," Gail groaned. "It's our kid, she can wait."

It was probably just Vivian calling to wish them happy anniversary. But it was also crap early and Vivian never called early without a reason. Reluctantly, Holly leaned away and picked up her phone. "Dr. Stewart," she answered, hoping her voice didn't sound too much like someone wanting to get laid.

"Hey, Moms. Three things, then go have sex." Behind Vivian was a male voice of outrage and horror. Interesting. That was either Christian or Nick, from the tone. "One, dogs found the horse bone at three am. Tell Mom I secured the scene and called Trujillo."

Gail's hand had not stopped its traversal of Holly's stomach, and Holly reached down to grab the fingers before they got to her breasts. "Thanks, Viv," said Gail, loudly enough to be heard.

"Welcome. Second bit is happy anniversary. Third is Lily is insane. I gotta go, Officer Collins is being a ding dong."

"He's good at that. Bye, kid." Gail slipped her hand out of Holly's shirt and hung up the phone for her.

"Rude," laughed Holly, tossing the phone back on her nightstand.

Instead of replying, Gail pushed herself up and sat on Holly's hips. She arched her eyebrows and very, very slowly lifted her nightie up. Gail bit her lip coyly and Holly felt herself melt into a puddle then and there.

They were not, in the end, late to work. Though it was a near thing.

* * *

There were two cops in a conference room. Gail saw Nick on the couch, curled on his side, his back to the door, and Gail could see his bald spot. In the chair, long legs stuck out and crossed at the ankles, arms tucked over each other, Vivian was apparently resting. Not sleeping though, as an eye opened when Gail stepped inside. Even though the kid had powered through a double, she still didn't sleep outside the home even if that home was her own.

Gail doubted Viv had even seen her place since Wednesday at the ass crack of dawn. It was still weird, getting used to not having Vivian at the house. It felt too big, too empty, and too lonely. That first week without her had been hard. Gail had been in a constant state of anxiety. Finally, after a serious talk with her therapist and with Elaine, Gail had done something she felt unthinkable. She tracked her daughter.

Of course Gail told Vivian what she was doing, but still. She did it. Just to make sure. And Vivian, bless her heart, would text Gail to let her know where she was. It helped. It helped a lot.

Time for some smiles. Holding a finger to her lips, Gail stepped over to Nick on the couch and peeked. Asleep. Gail grinned and shouted. "Oi!"

Nick bolted to his feet, clearly panicked. "God damn it, Gail!"

With a yawn and a stretch, Vivian stood up. "Coffee?" She seemed to care less about Nick's behavior and Gail grinned. That was her kid.

"Yes." Gail held out the to go tray and Vivian eagerly took the cup with a V. "We made some headway. Gene Evans real name was Heinrich Haan. He was a groom at a horse taxi company."

Vivian perked up. "Horse bone!"

"Yes. Sadly they cremate horses, so Holly can't compare it to anything. But!" Gail grinned. "They fired Mr. Haan for theft."

"Bone theft?" Nick was incredulous.

And yet he was right. "Bone theft. They caught him at the crematorium. I just got back from that. Crematorium was paid off to not file charges. Accountants are looking into the money now, but it looks like it was laundered well. Still. Someone is funding people with a taste in cars and bones."

Vivian looked thoughtful. "Two people used the horse bone. So Haan was the second killer?"

"They're the Dread Pirate Roberts of the criminal world," Gail said, amused. "But for once, we actually have a thread to follow. Who was Heinrich Hann? Who paid to cover him up? Who taught him how to kill? I have a theory it was one of the rich asshats who kept horses in the city. A love of horses to cars follows."

Nodding, her daughter asked, "So now what?"

"Now you two go the hell home and sleep. Nick, shave and put on that tux. Viv, I don't actually care if you shave, but Mom said she dropped off a, quote, 'stunning outfit' at your place on Monday, and if you don't wear it, _she_ might cry. And don't forget brunch with everyone tomorrow."

Both officers looked a little sad. "We don't get to help any more?" Nick looked actually annoyed.

"No. Abercrombie and Volk are going to do some leg work and see if they can find anything, but this is back to the Ds. Come on, cold cases rarely need foot patrol, and we're calling Bethany's case solved."

With a slight scowl, Vivian nodded. "I guess..." She sighed. "It feels half baked."

"I know. But hey, bright side is there's going to be another sting next month, and your name is on the list." Gail tapped Vivian's name tag. Enlightenment dawned on the younger Peck's face while Nick laughed. "Don't mind ding dong Collins. He never got to be a hooker." On that note, Gail took a muffin out of the bag, leaving the rest with the two officers, and returned to her office.

The case was closed, in as much as they could close it for Bethany. While John would be back at work the next week, he was now officially off the head-bashing cases. Gail sighed and typed up her notes, transferring the brunt of the case to herself and assigning John the off and on arsons. He was damned good at the long cold cases, but this was one he couldn't touch.

Losing her best asset like this was painful in an unexpected way. It was the first time in years, if ever, that Gail had hurt for someone else. Someone besides herself, her wife, and her kid. Not that Gail didn't have sympathy for her friends. When John's mother had died, she felt sorry for him. She'd wondered if it was harder or easier than dealing with her father's death.

But this death... It wasn't like they'd all thought Bethany had been dead for years anyway. The difference was that they knew. Now they had incontrovertible proof that the woman John had loved and lost was dead. And now the weight of her death would sit on John forever. Was that better or worse than the weight of the unknown?

It wrapped around Gail too, the painful facts of her death. And the pain she'd watched carve itself into his face was hers too.

Awesome. It only took her fifty years to figure out how to have empathy for people. How to feel their agony and understand their pain. The stupid shit her Peck family, the asshole ones she never liked anyway, had demanded Elaine try to force into Gail. Ugh. She covered her face.

"You look like ass, little sister."

"Fuck you too, Ginger."

Steve laughed and Gail heard the door close. "Mom wanted me to make sure you went home before two."

Gail didn't look up. "God forbid I have bags under my eyes."

"I think she was more worried about you showing up in jeans and boots."

Now she looked up. "I look hot as fuck in jeans and boots, brother."

"You're my sister. So ew."

She sighed and studied Steve's face. "What was it like? When it was me?" He looked perplexed. "When you got back from undercover with Frankie and found out the hoopla about a kidnapped cop was me?"

Steve's face shuttered closed. That affable, goofy brother she loved just shut down. "What? Why are you asking me this?"

"Because... Because I just solved the death of my partner's fiancé. This woman he loved so damn much it's screwed him up for thirty fucking years, Steven. And ... And it feels like someone is cutting me open and I've gotta know if this is normal."

Her brother sighed and sat down on the couch. "I wanted to punch Dad. When they told me. It was like all the air in my lungs was sucked out and I tried to see this world where I didn't have you keeping me honest. And ... It scared the shit out of me, Gail."

Gail nodded, thinking that sounded right. "You know. I feel bad for people. When they lose family and friends. But it never _hurt_ before. Except Sophie."

He didn't look surprised. "What did Oliver tell you back then?"

"He said it got me. Broke the skin. And everything was gonna hurt a little more." She exhaled loudly. "Thing was... It didn't. I mean, I was aware more but it didn't hurt like this. This... This aches. Like when my ankle hurts in winter?"

"Well. John's family."

Gail snorted. "Didn't hurt like this when you got stabbed."

And he laughed. "I hope not! You knew I'd be fine!"

She smiled. "Family?"

"Sure. Remember, you gotta be close as family to your partner. And you and John, it's almost as long as you and Holls."

"Please don't call her that, her name is Holly."

Steve smiled. "Come on. Close up. Go home. Shower. Get sexy. I'll pick you and Mrs. Doctor Stewart up. Because I am still more scared of Mom than you."

With a sigh, Gail closed up her laptop and followed the orders of Herr Peck.

* * *

She didn't mind that Steve made her give the speech. Vivian was pretty sure he'd skip out of it, since he hated public speaking nearly as much as Gail did. With that in mind, she'd written a short speech weeks ago, and talked about how she appreciated the little ways her moms showed how they loved each other.

It had made both Gail and Holly cry a little.

"Peckling! Where are your parents?"

"Making out in the coat closet, Uncle Ollie." She grinned and hugged the man she'd only seen in passing that night.

Oliver squeezed her back. "Funny girl. Good speech."

"Thanks."

Holding her upper arms, Oliver looked her up and down. "Moved out too."

She nodded. "That was my present."

Her uncle grinned. "They raised you good." Oliver squeezed her upper arms and went off, saying he was looking for her moms.

Vivian watched him wander off and picked up a bottle of champagne. It took her exactly three minutes to find her mothers, sitting on a couch in the coat closet, sharing a near empty bottle. "Knock knock," she said, kicking the door more closed behind her.

"Thank god, we're almost out." Gail scooted over, leaving enough room for Vivian to sit down between them.

She hesitated before giving in to the glowers of both mothers, and sat between them, immediately getting hugged. "Oh god, if you're going to get all sappy, I'm telling Elaine where you are."

Holly kissed her cheek. "She brought us the first bottle."

Taking the bottle from Vivian, Gail poured three flutes. "We're only allowed to hide out as long as the booze lasts. You, my dear sweet daughter, bought us another half-hour."

"I think Elaine'll figure it out," said Vivian, laughing. But she took the glass and tinked her's against her mothers' and sipped the bubbly.

They could just hear the music. Vivian sighed and leaned her head onto Holly's shoulder, slouching down so she'd fit, and Holly wrapped an arm around her shoulders. On her other side, Gail leaned against Vivian, reaching over her to touch Holly's thigh. It was, certainly, not a romantic moment. But for three people who had limits with their ability to deal with crowds, it was a hell of a lot nicer.

"Is John still out there?" Gail refilled the glasses.

Vivian shook her head. "No. When you guys skipped out, he said goodnight." She frowned. "Is he really gonna be okay?"

Snorting, Gail downed half her glass. "I'm the last person to ask, mini me."

Holly sighed. "Don't be an ass, Gail."

"I'm deflecting and avoiding my feelings," whinged Gail. "It's bad enough I'm stuck at a party. I don't want to suffer empathy for John all night." When Holly's silence reigned, Gail noted, "Janet looked okay."

"She's good for him," Vivian said softly. "I hope he's okay. I like John."

"You did not like him when you met him," Gail remarked.

Vivian snorted. "He was a man with a gun. I think the only one I did like was Oliver."

"Which is why I knew you were a genius." Gail squeezed Vivian for a second. "I think we did okay with you."

"God knows how."

"It was a nice speech," said Holly, thoughtfully. "I liked the part about how we got cats out of trees."

"Yeah, finally figured that metaphor out, huh?" Gail laughed at them and sipped her champagne.

Vivian smiled. "Last year." She closed her eyes. "Do you miss me yet?"

"I miss your turn to cook and do dishes," said Gail seriously. Holly flicked at Gail's hair, laughing. "I got used to you being around, Viv. House feels too big."

"Makes me wish we'd gotten you as a baby," Holly said wistfully. "I wouldn't have minded an extra few years."

"Please! Can you see Gail with a baby? Crying and fussing and no sleep?" Vivian laughed and poked Gail's leg as her blonde mother spluttered indignantly. "I think... I think just like you two met at the right time, you met me at the right time. When I needed you."

Her mothers squeezed her close. They were still hugging like that when Elaine came in with a bottle of Martinelli's. "Thank god you're still here." Elaine pulled over and chair and fell into it, kicking her shoes off. "We have half an hour."

"Is Steve dancing yet?"

"Almost. Holly, dear. Your father is drunk."

Holly winced. "Is he dancing the Macarena or singing Eagles songs yet?" When Elaine shook her head, Holly looked relieved. "Thank god. He's where I get my singing voice."

Vivian giggled. "Where did Gail get hers?"

"Grandma Antonia. She was a drunk bitch, but she had pipes." Gail sighed and sat up. "Switch with me, junior."

Obliging, Vivian got up but she took the champagne with her. "I can go wrangle grandpa," she offered.

Gail snuggled herself right up against Holly, smiling. "In a minute. How are you getting home?"

"That was the only booze I've had all night, Mom. I'm good to drive home."

Nodding, Gail turned to her mother. "Staying here, Mom?"

"God no," laughed Elaine. "Gordo is driving. And don't worry, we're taking your parents out to brunch, Holly, dear."

"Thank you," sighed Holly. "I feel bad I can't take more time off."

"They understand," Elaine said.

"Where is Gordo?" Vivian looked around, wondering about her grandmother's boyfriend. He was not Elaine's first boyfriend in the last eight years, but of them all, Gordo was Vivian's personal favorite.

Elaine flushed a little. "He's dancing with Traci, Celery, and Lily and anyone else. The man has the stamina of a college student."

There was a pause and Gail and Vivian cracked up. "Don't let him get worn out, Mom," teased Gail.

Even Holly laughed at that. They teased Elaine a little more until, finally, it was time to go back out into the crowd. "Okay, I'm going to rescue Toronto from my dad," sighed Holly. She kissed Gail and stood up.

With a sigh, Gail watched Holly and then Elaine leave. "What're you waiting on, Viv?"

"You. Elaine wanted me to help keep you in line." She smiled as her mother flipped her off and got ready to go.

But Gail paused at the door. "There are a million ways to save I love you, kid," Gail said quietly. "Be safe. Watch your back. Wear your seatbelt." She looked at Vivian, eye to eye thanks to the heels. "But I love you, Viv. Thank you. For the speech and helping Elaine and everything."

Vivian looked at her shoes and smiled. "I love you too, Mom."

Smiling, Gail kissed her cheek. "Good. Now I'm going to dance with your Mom and go to a hotel room where we can annoy the shit out of our neighbors."

Vivian followed Gail out, grinning. She wouldn't have her moms be any other way.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it's worth, John would rather have the whole answer too, but having any answer at all is helpful. He will be okay.
> 
> Let me know how many Kleenexes were used and 'Damn you, Chappy!'s were uttered. The reviews let me know how the story is working for you readers. They also bring sunshine to cloudy days, and encourage me.


	14. 02.04 Hearts and Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Covert ops as hookers aren't all fun and games when someone is burned to death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter attempts to address some uncomfortable subjects, including the misrepresentation of transsexuals. Yes, it's offensive. It's got characters making comments you may not agree with. They're intended to be imperfect, in order to tell a story that is real. This was posted November 2016, but was written closer to 2014. I apologize for those who are offended, and I hope my ability to write and show people doing the wrong thing has gotten better since then.
> 
> Now it's time for a little romance and a little undercover work. It's time for our rookies to enjoy the least comfortable undercover role. No, not the scavenger hunt. It's time for hookers.

Gail coughed as she read Chloe's list. "Really? I woulda picked Fuller."

"He's not clean cut enough to sell. Too hearty and wholesome."

"That worked for Chris."

"Sure, but Chris was more ... I don't know. There was something about him that made you believe he would do drugs."

Gail sighed. "That would be because he got hooked on coke. Twice." Chloe startled, clearly not expecting that little revelation. At this point in all their lives, it hardly mattered to keep the secret. Chris died clean. "Dov can tell you about it."

The other detective nodded. "Well. That's that. I think Hanford will be fine." Gail nodded her acceptance. "And just so we're clear, I'm not sold on young Peck either. She looks too athletic."

That was frustrating. Gail sighed, trying to think of how to keep her daughter on the list, but was failing. "Too healthy and honest. Love her, but yeah."

Chloe sighed. "You know what sucks is she'd probably be pretty good at it. She wouldn't be stupid."

"You mean Andy." Gail smirked at the memory and sipped her coffee. Andy had really only been good undercover when Sam or Nick was her partner. Gail expected her partners to hold their own. Andy needed a hand back then.

"I mean Wes. He got in a car with someone."

Gail nearly laughed her coffee out her nose and had to grab kleenex. "Are you shitting me? That's UC 101! No touching, no cars!" She blew her nose. "Jesus, why did you marry him?"

Rolling her eyes, Chloe turned the page. "Desperation and tequila."

"Ahhhh, right. A potent mix." They both chuckled. "Well. There is the other option. For covers." She arched her eyebrows at Chloe.

After a moment, Chloe looked amused. "You think she can do it?"

"I think she can better than Hanford, and no I'm not just saying it because she's my kid."

The tiny redhead sighed. "Your wife will either kill me or laugh so hard she cries."

Gail smirked. "From my perspective, it's a win win."

"You, Gail Peck, are a total shit." Chloe ran a hand through her hair. "Do we tell them about all of it?"

"No, we don't." Gail tabbed through the report. "They're still rooks. They work best when you give them the information for what they can do."

Chloe quirked a smile. "Is that what Oliver taught you?"

"Noelle, but close enough. The problem with them is they can be ... They can be innovative in the wrong way." Gail sipped her coffee. "McNally."

Even Chloe found the humor there. "She will never live that story down. Not once."

"Nope. We tell it at the academy, names changed. She also gets her Duncan fuck-up story. Of course, so does he. I'm the cautionary tale about being kidnapped."

Chloe, who had not known her then, just looked sad. "I'm how to get hated by an entire division."

In a way, that was why Gail liked Chloe as much as she did. There was no attempt to ignore the mistakes they made. Chloe didn't treat her differently for being held hostage. This was just the Gail that Chloe knew, and she accepted Gail for what she was.

"I don't think everyone here hates you. Yet," said Gail, flippantly.

With a smirk, Chloe flipped her off. "You're jealous."

"Of you and dork king? Hah!"

"True, you did marry the nerd queen." Chloe was grinning. "And you two raised a pretty amazing kid. I'll see if I can get her in, but she's got to play it right. She does anything like that hero shit she pulled in high school..." Trailing off, Chloe was incredibly serious.

Gail winced. "God. I don't know where she got that." Vivian had done it in college as well and Gail had tried her best to steer the girl away from it. But if someone dropped Vivian in front of downtrodden people in pain, then she wanted to save them. Protect them. Hurt the other guys enough to keep them away.

"I don't think it's because of you and your bitter, jaded, attack the the world view, if that helps."

It did. A little. "Well. We all have our problems. I mean, why the hell are you a cop?"

"I like helping people," said Chloe, wistfully. "And I always thought uncle Frank was so cool and nice and ..." She sighed. "Even after I got shot, my parents never asked me to stop. They get it. The sacrifice."

Yeah. Gail understood that. "Well. Can I say I'm ... I'm glad you got the clot thing fixed?" Chloe's smile was like a million watt sun. It was brilliant and warmed even Gail's crusty heart. Gail rolled her eyes. "You know what, I take it back, Chloe. Forget it, I wish that stupid clot had killed you."

But she knew Chloe knew the Gail under the venom and bite. They had been friends for two decades now. "Thank you for introducing me to your cousin."

Her cousin the thoracic surgeon. "I notice you're not thanking me for introducing you to Lisa." Lisa had cleaned up the scar tissue.

Now Chloe rolled her eyes. "Gail, no one in their right mind would thank anyone, not even Holly, for introducing them to Lisa."

Gail shrugged, not arguing the sentiment. "You've got John back up to speed on the arsons?" While John was out for a few weeks on bereavement, Chloe had picked up his serial arson case. It wasn't her bailiwick but John was family. Without even being asked, Chloe just stepped up and helped out.

"Yup! He left me the undercover plan and is talking to Captain Peck... That's weird, by the way. Captain?"

"I made Inspector first," drawled Gail, amused. There was a shift to Chloe's face. Aha! "You applying?"

The tiny woman nodded. "Talked it over with Dov. It takes me off the streets for good. Maybe it'll help our Chris."

Gail nodded back. Chris had been nothing but problematic. While Vivian had been perfectly willing to pick him up and talk to Chris, she had flat out refused to tell any of them what was going on. "He's not using," Gail said softly. That had to be the truth. Vivian would have said something.

"I know. But something's going on. Maybe I should have been around more. Not haring off undercover every few months." Chloe sighed, despondent.

"True, but you wouldn't be a member of the order if you weren't so damn good at that."

Chloe laughed. "Wow. Two compliments from Gail Peck in one day? Am I gonna die now?"

"Technically the first wasn't a compliment," snarled Gail, but she grinned. "Look. Just ask Viv if she thinks it'll help. She's incurably honest. I think she got that from Holly."

Nodding, Chloe stood up. "After I ask her to pull off a cover story that is equally hilarious and offensive." She shook her head. "Remind me why I work with you?"

"Because I'm awesome and a fucking success story," Gail said, beaming dangerously.

Chloe's laugh trailed her out the door.

* * *

Of course Jenny was excited. "This shift is gonna rock!" She bounced on her feet. "We get to work a major op! Undercover!"

Vivian checked her uniform. "Practicing the cover story already, Jenny? You're supposed to be pretend druggies."

Lara laughed at them both. "Is this even an op? A John sweep?"

The buoyant mood could not be denied and Jenny threw her arms around Vivian and Lara's shoulders as they walked out to the hall. "Is it an operation? Yes, it is. Will we be dressed in uniform? No, we will not."

"No, you get to be dressed like hookers," groaned Vivian.

"We," said Lara, happily.

" _You_ will. No way will I get to do this."

"What?" Jenny was stunned. "Why not?"

With a deep sigh, Vivian wriggled free and stood in front of her classmates, arms akimbo. "Look at me. I'm over six feet tall, I look like a fucking jock, I've got short hair, and I pretty much scream cop. Or lumberjane. I _don_ _'_ _t_ look like a coked out hooker who needs a little dough."

Her friends studied her for a while. "She has a point," said Lara, sadly.

"She does. Crap. So what will you end up doing?"

"Sitting in the van with the cover team. I won't even get to be backup." It didn't matter that Gail had mentioned her name was on the list. The reality was, Peck or not, she'd not be anyone's pick for a hooker. Vivian shoved her hands into her pockets and sighed, walking into Parade.

The room was filled promptly, only Vivian slouching deeply in her seat. Andy, in her starched white shirt, wrinkled her nose. "Who the hell is wearing the sex cologne?" She squinted at the room. "Desmond, for fuck's sake, shower. Again."

Most everyone laughed. Chloe smiled. "Okay! You kids know what today is." She tapped the wall and the underpass showed up on a map. "The hookers will be here and here. Rent boys here. The cover team will be here, by the mini mart. We will have coffee for you when your covers are blown. Backup will be also undercover."

Andy picked up the explanations. "We can't wire you, so you'll have earpieces. We can talk to you, you can't talk to us. It's a secure band, so we will keep the chatter to a minimum. You'll each have a different signal, don't get confused." Andy paused and tipped her head to Chloe, grinning.

"We'll be using Volk, Hanford, Peck, and Aronson." What the fuck? Vivian stared and Chloe smirked right back at her. "Peck, run the drill."

Was this a joke? They were asking her to go undercover? She didn't look the part! Gail did. Andy did... Well. Mostly. Andy looked too clean cut. She'd seen the photos from Noelle. When Chloe coughed, Vivian sat up straight. "Well, we need the John to offer money for a sex-related act. In that moment he, or she, is arrestable, so we give the signal, cover team moves in and makes the collar."

"Good," nodded Chloe. "Peck and Hanford, you're with me. Volk and Aronson, you're with Santiago. Remember. Do not let anyone touch you. Do not get in any vehicle. Do not go anywhere your cover team can't see you. And no matter what happens, you stick to your story. Let's go."

Vivian, confused, got up and followed Rich and Chloe. "Ma'am, me?"

"Yes, you, Peck. You're both druggies."

Rich eyed Vivian. "But ... Er. Ma'am. If I'm a rent boy-"

"Hanford, zip it. Here's your outfit." Chloe handed him a bag. "There are options. Pick what fits. You too, Peck." Reflexively, she took the bag. "The necklines are non-negotiable. Change. Meet me back here in thirty."

"What the hell, Viv?" He gaped at her.

Vivian shared a look with Rich. "I have no fucking idea..."

"Dude, it's UC. Christian was livid he can't do it."

"He doesn't look slutty enough," Vivian said, a little confused. She ignored his protests and went back to the locker room. Jenny was zipping up thigh high boots. Lara had on torn jeans.

"What I don't get is what sex acts am I supposed to offer in pants?" Lara looked at her jeans and frowned.

Vivian sighed. "Blow jobs. Hand jobs. Lots of stuff doesn't involve penis and vagina."

Jenny chuckled. "She's got you there, Lara." The shortest of the three, Jenny had on a mini skirt and a tight tank. "What do you think? Do I look more desperate in this or the blue?" She held up a blue crop top.

Unzipping her bag, Vivian studied the choices. "The blue is more desperate. The tank is more professional. Harder to stain."

Both her friends made disgusted faces. "Do you spend family dinners talking about this shit?" Jenny threw the blue shirt back in her bag.

Vivian smirked. "No, Holly outlawed cop-talk at the table when I was eight." She turned to her potential outfits and stared. "What the actual fuck..." The clothes were definitely hooker wear. But they were not the sort that would make her look less butch.

"Uh. You're gonna look real ... " Lara stopped.

"Mannish," offered Jenny.

The lightbulb went on for all three of them at once, or near enough as to make no difference. "Oh," muttered Vivian. A female hooker who looked mannish. "Christ. Well _that_ is going to offend someone."

"Uh, news flash, Viv. We're pretending to be desperate, drug addicted, women who sell their bodies. We're already pretty fucking offensive to anyone's family values."

With a sigh, Vivian pulled off her uniform shirt. Before the appointed half hour, she was in the hall where Chloe was waiting and listening to Christian argue he'd be a better rent boy. Her roommate pointed as soon as Vivian walked in. "Look! Viv, if you had to bang one of us, pay us for sexual favors, who would you pick?"

"You guys forget I'm queer or something?" She frowned and held out her wig. "Someone help me with this?"

"It's a simple question, Peck," laughed Chloe, who had apparently heard enough. "Who's the better rentboy? Hanford or Fuller?"

Vivian sighed. A year ago she'd have said Christian. Today's answer was different. "Rich is. You're too fit in the wrong way, C."

Christian scowled. "Oh like you're any better! What hooker looks like you?" He stopped and eyed her up and down. The dress was too tight in a couple places, it actually emphasized her shoulders, and the shoes were interesting, to say the least. "Aren't you supposed to be playing _down_ the butch? Or are we looking for Janes and Johns?"

"Don't be a dick, C," snarled Vivian.

Taking the wig, Chloe pointed Vivian at a chair. "She looks fine. She'll be posted with Hanford on the other side of the overpass."

She stayed still as Chloe pinned the wig into place. "But, ma'am, that wig looks hella fake." Christian was clearly not getting it.

Chloe ignored him. "Do you want help with the voice?"

"No, ma'am," replied Vivian, resignedly. "You know, this really is all kinds of offensive. If this was a movie-"

"It's not, Peck. And frankly we don't have anyone else at Fifteen who fits the bill as well as you. Brooke already said you'd do." Chloe clapped her shoulders. "Lemme hear it."

She nodded. So that was that. Vivian inhaled deeply and exhaled, relaxing her shoulders. "Hello, officer," she said in her best drag queen voice. It really was offensive on so, so many levels.

It was also worth it to see Christian's eyes widen. "Oh my god."

"Good. You guys buy that?" Both men nodded. "Congrats, you are a transsexual rentboy, Peck."

Vivian sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Somehow she just knew that this was all Gail's fault.

* * *

The photo was equal parts horrifying and hilarious. Her daughter stood well over six feet tall in the boots. She looked a little scraggly in less than flattering makeup, a cheap dress, and a wig. Holly snickered a laugh and texted Gail back.

_I want photos of hooker Gail._

Her wife replied with a case number which Holly promptly tapped in to her laptop. There was Gail, rookie, not even cut loose, with short blonde hair (not as short as she wore it now), trashy makeup, and sloppy clothes. She stood next to Andy McNally, both looking rather skeevy and slutty and untrustworthy. Well. Gail did. Andy looked incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.

_You look adorably trashy. When are you coming home?_

_Ten minutes. I_ _'_ _m at the drug store getting your meds._

Holly swore. She had enough left for the week, but Gail hated when she ran low. So did Holly, and she'd meant to pick her pills up. And totally forgot.

She shoved her laptop, and her brilliant proposal about creating a 3D model of almost an entire femur, based solely on the skull impressions, away and hustled to the kitchen. Dinner should probably be on her. It wasn't going to speed up the approval for funding.

Of course, Holly was still staring at their fridge when Gail got there. "So sad. The great doctor is stumped on dinner."

"Screw you," Holly grumbled. But she leaned into Gail as the blonde took hold of her waist. The warm hands gripped gently, firmly, holding her in place while Gail leaned into Holly's back. "Hi. Not staying out all night, watching our kid?"

"Mm mm," said Gail, kissing Holly's neck. "I have minions. Besides, she'd be self conscious if her mom was watching her try to talk some Johns into offering to pay her for sexual favors."

There was that. "She doesn't really look convincing, you know. She'd make a better dominatrix."

Gail laughed. "I'll remember that for next time. This time, Viv's playing a guy."

Holly stiffened. "What?"

"She's pretending to be a transsexual rentboy."

That took a moment to sink in. "Our daughter is pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman."

"I know, it's very _Victor/Victoria_. Salmon, beef, or vegetarian?"

"Beef. Don't change the subject. Having Viv pretend to be a transsexual is really offensive."

Gail sighed and put her forehead on Holly's shoulder. "Holly. Its voluntary. She could say no."

Holly snorted and picked up the beef. "No, she can't. She's a cop. She has a responsibility to do this."

Letting go, Gail leaned on the counter, her expression closed. "Holly. What part is offensive?"

She blinked. "What?"

"To you. What part has your goat. Because dressing up fresh faced rooks as hookers is kinda always offensive. And having some of them pretend to be gay is offensive. Abercrombie is a rentboy, by the way. And yeah, having one pretend to be transgender is offensive and opportunistic and... We're teaching them to lie, to be other people. They have to be able to see the evil and we need to know who can hide with it."

It wasn't something they talked about much. Holly honestly didn't want to know what happened when Gail had been undercover, and that work had ended years ago. Even when it was Gail's job, it was like interrogation. Gail didn't want Holly to see the seedy part of the job of a cop. Twenty years, Gail had kept that part of her career, her life, as far away from Holly as possible.

And now maybe it was time to change that unspoken policy.

Holly slid the meat over. "It bothers me because it's taking advantage of a situation and a disenfranchised group of people. And thirty years ago, it was playing lesbian and ... I don't like my life being someone's play acting."

Her wife nodded. "Okay. I get that. But that isn't what this is at all." Gail tossed the meat into a bowl and ran hot water. "We are taking advantage of the reality of the world. The world sucks, parents kick gay kids out, they have no money and no means and they turn to sex because it's easy. We can't stop _that_." Gail's voice softened. "That's what could have happened, Holly. To Viv."

Scowling, Holly got out some spices for the meat. "No. You don't play that one, Gail. This has nothing to do with protecting our kid."

"No. It doesn't. But she has to know that." Gail shrugged. "Look, this is her job. She has to learn to be someone else. That's what we do. We stop being Gail the wife. We have to be Gail the car thief, or the anti-royalist, or the hooker... Or the call girl. Because being those things lets us know. How to find out who needs us, who's lying, who's afraid."

It made sense, in a way. It seemed exploitative in many others. "You're using her, though. Because of all your rookies, she knows exactly what the worst is."

Gail shrugged again. "Yeah. So does Carrie over in ThirtyTwo. And there's a guy down at Eight. They're doing the same thing, more or less. And they know why we picked them for that."

Holly eyed her wife. "Don't you feel bad?"

"What? Using kids as bait? Making them see the seedy underbelly of Toronto? Introducing them to the pain? Yes and no. Cumin."

"I was thinking the H&P, for burgers. And don't you feel bad about this? It's creepy."

"That works." Gail pulled out the sauce and buns. "Okay. Yes it makes me feel bad. I hate that we're taking advantage of a situation like this. That we can get better results asking kids to pose as transsexuals. But I would rather get the abusive assholes off the streets. Should I light the grill?"

"Only if it stopped raining." Holly watched Gail get the stovetop grill out and marveled for a moment at their ability to transition comfortably between topics. "Okay. So you're exploitative."

Gail rolled her eyes. "That can't possibly be news. I take advantage of people all the time, sweetheart."

Holly smirked. "I meant the institutionalized aspect. Wasn't really expecting that."

"Well. We have to brainwash people. You don't think we come by this naturally." Gail leaned on the counter. "I'm going to lock my gear up, okay?"

"Please. And make a salad when you get back down."

Grumbling about rabbit food, Gail stomped upstairs, leaving Holly to think. If the situation was different, say hiring a straight actor to play gay or a cisgendered one to play trans, Holly would have been irate. She was often loudly vocal about that sort of thing. So was Vivian, who hated television for betraying her even since she was a pre-teen. But that was not at all the same as this.

This was work. This was the dirty work of being a cop. Worse than murder was watching people you couldn't save walk away. Worse than death was life and it's stark reality. Surviving came at a cost, a price, and they were trying to scrub the green and innocence off the rookies. Force them to survive.

Holly sighed and found a bag of Gail's cheese puffs, crumbling them up in place of breadcrumbs. "Gail! How come Oliver is so innocent still?"

"He's blessed," Gail said from the stairs. "Celery says his soul is immutable or something blah blah hippy bullshit. I don't know."

"Glad to see you're still listening."

Gail smirked and sniffed the bowl, going to the spice cabinet again. "He was bribed once. Oliver. Him and Steve."

"What?" Holly would have dropped the food she held, were it not in the bowl.

"Yeah, his old house, the one Zoe has. Irish mob fixed his roof." Gail was so laconic about it, it was stunning. She went on as she spiced the meat. "Ollie was a baby. A rookie. It was before they swapped him to Fifteen and he worked under Mom. Him and Uncle Al were at TwentySeven then. Al asked him to change the prints on file for a tweaker. Ollie did it. Didn't think twice, because hey, Al's on the up and up."

Holly felt a little ill. "But..."

"Nah, it was all above board. Al was guns and gangs. He was building a rapport with the mob to take 'em down. Didn't happen till I was seventeen though. So that was years, right? Ollie never asked. Not once." Gail looked up. "Oliver trusts beyond reason. Got him results like nobody else."

But that didn't help Holly feel better. "And Steve?"

"Yeah, same kinda thing. Obviously not his roof. Steve's always been an apartment guy. But it's this thing we do, these tests. What kind of cop are you."

Holly studied Gail's face as her wife started making the salad. "What was your test?"

Gail shook her head. "I took the fall for a guy who brought a gun into lockup. Mom stole credit for a perp from my dad. We test folks in different ways."

Stepping away from the counter, Holly sighed. "I feel positively sick. I think I was happier not knowing."

Her wife sighed. "My point, Holly. We have to do things that are questionable."

"So our child pretending to be an MTF is a drop in the bucket?"

"Yes, but it's also for a good reason. Get the sickos who prey on those kids off the street. Slip some cards to the kids. Maybe get them some help."

Holly shook her head and washed her hands. "I'm going to think about this."

"Sure." Gail took the patties and started to cook them up. "We still cook like Viv's here," she said abruptly. "I know you all call me a garbage pail, but the kid eats!"

She stared at Gail for a moment and then laughed. "We're watching the basketball game tonight, Peck."

"Sure." And Gail smiled at her. Holly swatted Gail's ass and leaned back to watch her wife cook.

Nothing Gail had said changed Holly's viewpoint on her wife. Gail was still the same Gail. Loyal and moral and reliable. It maybe changed how Holly thought about police in general. But it wasn't something to be answered in a day. That was okay. She had all the time in the world with Gail to sort it all out.

* * *

"Seventeen for the first night isn't bad," said Gail, studying the board.

Nick smirked. "I never did this. I feel cheated somehow."

As deadpan as possible, Gail said, "If we need a bear, I'll make sure to call you."

Beside them, John snorted. "No fire, though. Damn." That was his case, the fires. "Can you move 'em to the other spot? By the schools?"

Gail nodded. "That was the plan. I think they should switch up the pairs. Volk and Hanford by the library there. Aronson and Peck right by the park. There's good crossover there."

"That works for me." John sipped his coffee. "You checked the stats for how each ... Ah. Each kind of hookers are popular in each area?"

While Gail scoffed, Nick was a little astonished. "Do you still memorize that shit?"

"Not a choice, Collins." She sighed. "And yes." Gail scratched the back of her head. "When did Andy get in last night?"

"Just before I left for shift."

It was still too soon to call her or Chloe. Gail frowned and pulled out her phone, emailing them both about her suggestions and the reasonings. "Well. You're in charge of the day shift, Collins. Don't fuck up."

Nick looked a little queasy. He wasn't the leader. He'd never been a leader, never wanted to be one. He was a good soldier, a good man in a crisis, and someone who took orders well. Never once had Nick been a good leader. He knew it. But like Gail and Andy, he was getting up there in years. While Andy had spent the last dozen years trying her hand in almost every department, Nick had been stalwart and dependable as a TO.

Even though Gail felt the job suited him, she knew it was time for Nick to step up and see if he could be more than just the one thing. Not to mention it was partly her fault he was a cop. There was some guilt and responsibility in there for her. Then again, he remained in uniform because he felt it was the only thing that kept him in check properly.

John patted his shoulder. "You did fine at Parade."

"Is it wrong to be a patrol cop all my life?" Nick looked worried and doubtful.

Shaking her head, Gail tossed back the last of her coffee. "Not if its what you want, Nicholas. Don't settle."

She left the boys on that cautionary note, Nick presiding over the sergeants desk for the day, and texted Holly to let her know Vivian had done alright the night before.

_One more night as a hooker?_

_At least._

Gail's own adventure had been cut short by Andy, who as it turned out was more reliable with a partner than without. Gail did better playing pretend alone, which made perfect sense when she reflected on her upbringing. And Vivian... It was too soon to tell. But at least Gail had a small comfort in knowing her kid wouldn't be pretending to be a call girl any time soon. No, Vivian was more likely to go undercover in a girl gang, or a fight club, or something physical.

Maybe that was a part of her own shield. Gail used sarcasm and bite. Vivian had quietly made sure she could protect herself. Still, the kid said she didn't have any memories of her father hitting her, just her mother. It was probably enough to have set up her subconscious.

Not for the first time, Gail wished Vivian's therapist would tell her what the girl talked about in session. But private session was private. They hadn't done a family session, the three of them, since Vivian was a teenager and asked if they could stop. She still went to her own appointments, once a month at least, but what she talked about was her own business, as it should be.

Just as she walked into her office, Gail's desk phone rang. "Peck," she said, tapping the speaker button.

"Hi, Gail. It's Rodney." Not that she hadn't recognized his voice. Gail smiled at the phone. "I found trace of horses and horse gear on the Haan killings. So that's a confirmed lock."

Gail fist pumped the sky silently. "Gravy, Rodney. You are the man."

"You'll like this better. One of the early Cadillac killings matches the same trace. And it fits Holly's timeline."

He was right. Gail liked that a hell of a lot better. Link one in the chain was forged. Well. Link two. Haan was the second killer. "Did you find any on the older killings?"

"Not yet. I don't think I will, just based on degradation of samples. I'm checking the oldest of the Haan cases, though. I want to see if I can find something in them that doesn't fit, and use that to step back to the older cases. Find a thread."

Gail sat down and put her feet up. "I wish I could tell you I've made any similar headway," she sighed.

"Nothing more? Not even with a name?"

"Not even with three names, one alias, and another possible. Pretty much all I know for sure is he liked scooters and killing people."

Rodney sighed. "I wish I could tell you he wanted ones with a specific brand of oil or something."

Laughing, Gail understood. "Instead he just likes blue ones. Awesome. The database on that is ..." She'd been unable to narrow it down. "Oh and whitewall tyres, but that means fuck all."

"Anyone can paint a scooter blue and get whitewalls."

"Exactly. I can't even call and ask if anyone painted a scoot thirty years ago." She'd tired. And been scoffed at. Now she was making her rookie D do that work.

The laugh from Rodney was heartening. "Right. I'll check for paint flecks?"

"Nah, we have the paint information in the reports, weirdly enough. What I need is inspiration."

"Man, I don't envy you, Gail. Good luck. I'll call if I get anything."

"Same here, Rodney. Thanks." She hung up and tapped her keyboard, bringing up the case notes.

This case was not one Gail had ever really put a great deal of thought into. Serial killings were not her forte. She did better with delving into the motives of groups. Why would mobsters do a thing? Why did a group of unrelated people do that? It wasn't until the current year that Holly had identified that the killings were a group and a serial to boot. Suddenly there it was, in Gail's wheelhouse.

She stared at the lists of victims. One survivor, attacked by Haan. Haan had been killed by a leg none Holly was reasonably sure belonged to Bethany Mills. Gail grimaced.

They'd gone to Bethany's funeral, all of them. Pretty much everyone from Fifteen, but also everyone from John's old unit in Missing Persons. Even Vivian had come, in her dress blues for the first time. And now John was back at work. Gail glanced out to the main bullpen, where John and Trujillo were going over notes, probably for the arson.

If Holly had been the victim of a crime, if Holly had died, Gail wasn't sure she'd ever be able to come back to work.

But for John, this was finally closure on questions of thirty some years. He finally knew the answers. Bethany died being exactly the woman he'd fallen in love with. At long last, John was at peace. And weirdly, his threats of retirement were gone. Gail expected Janet to move in with him next. It was as if, finally, the chains that kept him from committing, from saying things were forever, were gone.

She sighed and rubbed her face.

What kept a thing going on forever anyway? Why had she managed to make things work, to finally get it right with Holly, when she'd epically failed with everyone else? Why would someone train another to kill? Who killed Haan and why? Did his death relate to the chain of killings? Were they related? Where was the thread, as Rodney would ask?

And then she stared. When she ordered the deaths by dates, there was overlap. Even with Haan, his killings with the horse femur overlapped his mentor with a tire iron. No, what had John theorized? A crank. But the final death with the crank was a woman. And the next death, via the femur, was an older man.

"No... They kill themselves?"

Gail pulled up the death of Mr. Jamison Rhodes.

"Okay, Mr. Rhodes. Talk to me. How did you die."

* * *

The dress was slightly better the second night. More comfortable at least. At least until she had to run.

"Fire!" That was the scream from Crystal, the young hooker they'd 'befriended' that night. She'd run away from home for one reason or another and started hooking to pay the bills. The drugs came later. Vivian had thought she was getting in good when Crystal mentioned a flop house nearby and asked if Viv had a place to stay. It was about the only time that a name like Vivian was useful undercover. It tended to sound fake.

But now Crystal was screaming and running. Vivian caught her by the arms. "Woah, Crystal. What's on fire?"

"The house! It's on fire! We gotta go!"

Holding her firm, Vivian asked, "Is anyone in there?" The pause was telling. She shook Crystal. "Crystal! Who's in there?"

"Dancer and his john!"

Vivian didn't really think about it. She ran, hooker boots and all, right at the fire. "Two people are still in there!" She knew that Chloe and the crew couldn't hear her, but she hoped the shout was loud enough. Vivian skidded a little as she rounded the corner, and drove her shoulder right into the door of the flop house.

Barely a house. A shack. The door flew in as she hit it, and Vivian had a moment where the Holly in her head screamed at her for not checking the door first. It was the Gail in her head who was winning today. If she hadn't felt the heat too much before plowing in then Vivian was sure she wasn't in mortal danger.

The fire did not surge.

Call it dumb luck.

Vivian coughed and covered her mouth, looking around. There was Dancer, cowering, and a man in a suit sans jacket. The latter was not moving.

"Come on! Get the hell out of here!"

Dancer looked up, panicked. "I can't move him!"

Decisions like this were easy. "Leave him! Come on, Dancer!" Vivian held a hand out. The second Dancer took it, she hauled him out. It was getting hot really fast. She was not dressed for this.

"Peck, here!" That was Henderson, one of Chloe's minions.

"There's another guy in there!"

"I got him! Get this guy to the cars."

No time to argue. Vivian dragged Dancer to where Lara had Crystal sitting on the bumper of a cop car. She was babbling. "How the hell can you be cops!?" Crystal stared at Vivian, confused.

Vivian sighed and pulled the wig off. "Well I blew our cover. Dancer, sit. Do we have more blankets?"

One was dumped on her shoulders first. "You did the right thing, Peck. Gonna be a long night, though."

She looked behind her at a familiar face. "Mac, aren't you a little old for night shift?"

MacKenzie Maclean smirked. "I know, right?" The EMT was a little younger than Gail, though not by much. "What the hell are you wearing?"

The two actual hookers were staring. "He- she- ..." Dancer stopped. "I am so fucking confused."

Taking pity, Vivian explained. "She. Officer Peck. Mac, Dancer's on heroin and Crystal's on meth. I know it's ironic. He had a fix two hours ago, but I think anything they're on got adrenalined out of them."

Mac nodded. "I can always count on you for charging into burning buildings and a good recap. Tobias?" The other EMT nodded and sat with the two hookers and a pair of uniformed cops. "Breathe for me."

No point to argue. Vivian let Mac check her lungs. Once cleared, Henderson took her place with Mac. He looked worse for wear. "You cleared Peck?"

Again, Mac nodded. "This one behaves. You follow her lead and I'll fix your arm."

There was a nasty burn on Henderson's arm. He sighed. "You, Peck, you and Volk are going to the station with these guys. Once you've gotten statements, Price wants you back."

"Back?"

"Yeah, the guy never got out. Congrats. We got hookers, drugs, arson, and probably homicide."

Vivian sighed. It was going to be a damn long night.

It was going to be a long day. She wished she could nap, but instead grabbed and shower, changed into her uniform, and pounded back coffee to kick her ass awake enough. She'd never seen the sunrise from this part of the city. Vivian turned to watch the firemen pick through the flophouse and the john's car.

"What the heck are you looking at?" Rich, still dressed like a rentboy, frowned.

"Sunrise. It's kinda pretty." She sipped her coffee. "Why are you still wearing sex cologne?"

"I just finished trying to wheedle info from the other guys." He sighed. "Which would help if we knew his name."

Vivian shook her head. "They only got the fire under control a coffee ago." Her cohort laughed at her description. "They don't know the license plate?"

The man snorted. "I don't know why I'm shocked at their lack of self preservation."

Smirking, Vivian clapped his shoulder. "I'll go ask the firefighters." Technically that was her job. Or as Chloe had pointed out, she was a Peck and her cousin was a firefighter, so she ought to use the Peck nepotism.

"Have fun. I'm gonna go back to the station and de-scent myself."

She tossed back the last of the coffee and walked over to the firefighters. Station 451. Vivian considered the odds. It was Toronto and she was a Peck. It was small. When a tall firefighter without his jacket on eyed Vivian, she blinked. He spoke first, asking, "Peck?"

"Real common in policing. We have one in every Division." She shrugged. "Yes, we're all related. Yes, Captain Peck in your station."

The man looked surprised. "Must be distant... I mean, she's blonde."

"And pale? Yeah." Vivian smiled. "How's the fire sorted?"

Clearly happier to go back to work, the man nodded. "Mostly out. Still smoking in places."

Vivian sighed. "Not safe enough to go in. And ... Did you get the guy out?"

"Crispy as fuck, but the building isn't safe to go in yet and get his ID. You guys have luck on the car?"

"Unless his name really is Tanya, it ain't his."

The man laughed. "No kidding. Well. You know, in this day and age, maybe."

Given Vivian had spent the first half of her night pretending to be a transsexual, yeah. "Glad you guys stopped the fire from spreading. That coulda been a mess for the overpass."

"Ah, no shit. We still gotta have a structural engineer out here."

Vivian made a face that must have been funny, since he laughed. "Man, I just wanna ID."

"You look kinda wiped."

Jerking her chin at the small crowd gathering, she explained. "We were here on a sting op." The crowd wasn't a good thing. Vivian studied them almost absently, looking for anyone suspicious.

"Man, so this was in the middle of your double?"

She nodded. "No time for a nap either." Not that she would have been able to.

He nodded back. "Well, listen, I gotta break in one of the others on the whole dealing with cops thing. You mind if I tap out?"

"My scintillating conversation ain't much?" Vivian kept her voice as flat and boring as possible, and the man laughed. "Yeah, I don't care. You hose monkeys are all the same."

"Donut Hoarder." But he was smiling as he trotted off.

A familiar voice spoke up. "Making friends?"

Her best friend, Christian, held two coffee cups. Vivian tossed her empty coffee into the trash. "C, I swear I will marry you if one of those is for me."

A cup was held out. "No marriage needed. You look beat."

"It was the shoes," she deadpanned.

Christian laughed. "You know you're crazy, running into buildings like that."

"Someone had to. Lara had Crystal."

Rolling his eyes, Christian pointed out the obvious. "Your family is gonna flip."

"Why's that?" The voice was one Vivian knew and she half turned to see the new fireman. Firefighter. The sooty, smiling face was the one she'd seen running and at the club. "Oh..." Jamie McGann trailed off, her eyes wide.

"They're all cops too," said Vivian, thanking every being imaginable that she wasn't a pale Peck. Her skin, tan and ruddy in general, didn't show the blush too much. She hoped. Jamie, equally dark (if not more) looked flustered. Yeah, it showed.

Christian made a noise. "I'm gonna do tape patrol. Look for suspicious persons." He gave Vivian a sly wink before scooting off.

They stood in silence for a moment. "Well this is weird," said Jamie at length. "Peck... The Cap said all her relatives were cops. Didn't realize she meant _all_."

"Ah. Yeah. Yeah." All the words that Vivian relied on when chatting with perps or her coworkers took a hike. Suddenly she felt awkward and gawky. Like the goofy kid who found Holly's old bespectacled bear toque and wore it while running around Vancouver with her Stewart cousins.

It was time to face the facts. Vivian was shy around girls she liked.

"So. You ran into the building?" Jamie was smirking

"At," corrected Vivian. "At. I caved in the door but it was too hot to go in."

"Nice job. Getting the one guy out. And you actually made the fire cool off."

That wasn't something she'd consciously done. The back of her brain though, it knew how that stuff worked. "Back drafts. Sure."

Jamie's eyes lit up. "You're not just saying that because you saw the movie, right?"

"Movie? No, no, my mom's a doctor. Scientist." Vivian forcefully bit her tongue for a heartbeat. "She's the chief medical examiner. So you know, science." Waving her left hand by her face, Vivian hoped she didn't sound as stupid as she felt she did.

The smile on Jamie's face gave her a little hope. "A smart cop, huh?"

"I have a degree and everything."

Jamie grinned. "So. This is probably the worst place and time. But..." The firefighter paused. "You get that I'm flirting, right?"

Her face felt insanely hot. "Yes. Yes I did. Do."

And her radio squawked. "Peck. When can forensics get at the body?"

She sighed and arched her eyebrows at Jamie. "Sorry. That was my sarge."

"Right. Tell her cool down is about halfway there. If the metal holds, we can get him out by lunch. Right now, they're worried about the structural integrity holding up."

Vivian made a face. "No offense, I've been here since nine last night." She thumbed her radio. "4727. It'll be 4 hours, give or take. They don't want it crashing on anyone's head."

"Copy. Go watch the line. See if anyone stands out from last night."

"Copy, Sarge." Vivian resisted the urge to rub her face. "Thank you, McGann."

The smile on Jamie's face was a little odd. "Sure. Last night?"

"We had a sting op." Vivian hesitated. "Are you... Staying around?"

Jamie tilted her head. "Until you get the body, yeah." Vivian nodded, trying to figure how to say she wanted to, perhaps, they could meet up. Or talk. Or exchange numbers. "Go look for evil people. I'll come find you when the scene is cooled."

That worked. Vivian exhaled. "Yeah. Um. Yes. Yes, that's ... Thank you."

Ears burning, Vivian walked back to the tape line. "She's cute," announced Christian.

"Shut up, C," muttered Vivian.

"She's checking you out still. Get her number?"

"We're at work." Vivian gestured between herself and Christian. "We. Are at work."

"That would be a no."

She wanted to punch Christian, but Vivian's eyes were drawn to a skinny, sniffling, man. "C. Remember Max?" Her partner made a confused noise. "Max Cortez. Brother of the arson supplier?" Christian said he did but sounded lost. Clearing her throat, Vivian shouted. "Hey! Gary!"

Gary Cortez looked up at her. "Oh. Shit!"

He took off running. Vivian didn't even think. She sprinted after. Gary skidded, throwing a trash can into her way. Clearing the hurdle easily, Vivian rounded the corner. "Why do they have to run?" It was, she'd learned, one of Gail's laments as a beat cop. But Gail had a knack to cut them off and save herself the exercise and Vivian did not. She had legs.

Exhausted or not, Vivian was going to catch that idiot.

* * *

The text was short.

_No batting cages. Dinner maybe._

Holly snorted and texted back, telling Vivian to sleep and order in. She'd heard from forensics about how Vivian had collared a guy, literally yanking him by his collar, and thus arrested the arson supplier. From Gail, she knew that he was, alas, only the supplier who had wanted to see what trouble his wares had caused.

And Holly? Well she had a dead body. Actually Wanda had a dead body. Holly was just there to peek. "That is one Kentucky Fried Felon," Holly said as she looked at the body. It was possible she'd lived with Gail for too long.

"Is hiring a hooker a felony?"

"If the prostitute is under 18, yes. Otherwise it depends. They were just trying to get them on communication."

Wanda shook her head. "Your family is weird."

"Hah, you've only met the Pecks, too." Holly felt her own side of the family, spread out over Canada, was even weirder in their own way. Her mother's sister had finally moved out of Toronto, after years of threats about the weather... To Quebec City. Her father's family roamed up and down the Pacific Coast, like a nomadic herd of scientists. Now that her nieces and nephews were grown, they'd moved into marine biology, solar energy, and the two Vancouver cops who were totally in love with Gail.

With a wry smirk, Wanda cut into the body. "If you think she's normal, I'm a little scared."

"I never said Gail was normal. Or Vivian." Holly sat on the handy stool, feeling a little old. "You read my notes on the other victims?"

"I did. And I agree, all but the last two, this fellow included, seem to be accidental. Test runs."

That was their working theory. Someone who lighting fires and the early victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They couldn't discern actual motive, that was Gail's bailiwick. John's. This was his case.

Holly pulled her phone out and texted John.

_Looks like murder._

His reply made her laugh.

_Smells like Teen Spirit?_

There was a reason John and Gail got along so well. The next text said he was on his way. "Sgt. Simmons will be here soon."

"Stick around? God knows I could use your brain on this." Wanda sighed. "I'm good, you know."

Holly tilted her head. "Good?"

"Yeah. I like being a pathologist. But I'm shit at people wrangling, I have zero political sense, and I'm not really into being in charge."

Smiling, Holly leaned back in the stool. "Lucky for you Rodney said he'd quit if I made you his second."

Wanda smirked. "Lucky for everyone. Rodney's going to be the next Medical Examiner."

Ah. That's where this was going. "Unlikely. I have a feeling he'll retire around the time I do." Holly loved her job too much to consider quitting any time soon. "Maybe I'll step down to half hours. Semi-retire. Maybe not."

"Not even when you're sixty-five?"

One of the things she'd always liked about Wanda was how direct she was. "That's a few years out. He's only three years behind me." And the odds were that Rodney would retire before Holly. That was just how it felt. "Wanna try for Medical Director?"

"We losing our Québécois?"

"Not a secret. She's looking for a replacement."

Wanda nodded and stretched. "Ivan."

Holly made a face. "What about Alice?"

"She's about as good as I am with people."

"Ugh. Jane?"

"Too new." Wanda narrowed her eyes. "You don't want Ivan because he's a guy?"

"No." Holly grimaced. "I don't like him that much. We don't get on."

Wanda smirked. "That was so British of you. Wow." Then she said, firmly, "Ben."

"Ben? Head of field units Ben?" Holly blinked and realized that Wanda had a point. "Ben... Shit." While Wanda smirked, Holly pointed out something amusing. "Your claims at being shit with people pales in comparison to your talent for personnel selection."

For a moment, Wanda looked panicked. Then she laughed. "You can keep me around for that."

"That is entirely possible." Holly leaned forward. "So. What do we know?"

"Caucasian male, under thirty. There was trace in his arm, the needle was still there." Wanda made a face. "That's ... You know I get weed and cocaine, smoking things, sure. But needles?"

"You're a doctor," Holly said with a laugh.

"I know, right?" Wanda shook her head and got out the carcass scissors. "This reminds me of last Thanksgiving. My dad tried to cook a turkey in the grill."

Holly frowned. "Isn't ham traditional for Thanksgiving?" Gail had done a roasted pork loin that had been so good, there had been no leftovers.

"Dad did college in the States." Wanda cracked the breastbone and peered. "He was pretty healthy for a dead guy. And under twenty-five... Actually I think he may be around twenty. Look at his development here."

Getting up, Holly took a look at the body. While not an exact science, the relative sizing of various internal organs had been gaining use as a benchmark for age. Combined with bone density and teeth, they'd been getting closer and closer to true. "The IDs all burnt up," Holly said morosely.

Wanda looked smug. "Stand back. We'll try science!"

It was impossible for Holly not to smile.

* * *

The hands on her shoulders slackened their grip and the woman below her exhaled a long, low, breathy laugh. Making herself comfortable along side her wife, Gail felt smug. "I take it back," sighed Holly, eyes still closed and lips curved into a careless smile. "I'm not mad the batting cages are closed."

Smirking, Gail kissed Holly's shoulder and hopped out of bed. Only one thing on the planet would get her out of bed that soon after sex, and it was their dinner in the oven. "I think I had a suitable alternative, since you still won't go shooting with me."

Holly whinged. "I hate guns. It feels so invasive and percussive."

"Not things you usually mind when I'm doing them." Gail turned on the shower and heard the loud groan as Holly's mind caught up with the joke.

"You are not funny, Gail!"

"I am goddamned hilarious!" She stepped into the steaming water. "And the timer hasn't gone off."

There was the sound of shuffling in the bedroom. "You know I hate it when you time sex around cooking." Holly's complaint was halfhearted. More than once she'd admitted to being impressed by the multitasking.

Scrubbing her hair, Gail smirked more. "You want dinner or not?"

Another groan from the bedroom. "Fuck."

"We did that." Gail hummed to herself as she showered. She was not surprised when the door opened and a messy haired Holly stepped in. After all, that was why they'd gotten the new shower. Once the hot tub went in at the cabin, they'd torn out the bathroom at home and put in a massive shower. They still had a tub, of course, but the shower was huge and the bathtub more normal.

"Scoot over." Elbowing Gail playfully, Holly yawned and got under the water.

Gail soaped up a washcloth and scrubbed Holly's back. "You are so bossy."

"I've yet to find another way of getting you to do what I want." She paused for a moment and then grinned.

Snorting, Gail nudged Holly out from the spray to rinse off. "You're a dick."

Her wife laughed. "I thought my lack of one was a primary feature of your attraction to me."

Gail rolled her eyes and stepped out of the shower, kissing Holly as she passed by. "Bird in the oven. Basmati rice, onions, peas. You know you love me."

"Married you for the cooking!" And Holly proceeded to sing, off key, as she showered.

Gail was certain, years from now, when they were retired and sitting by the lake shore, watching Vivian's kids (or Leo's, someone was getting them mini humans), that she would remember the little moments like this. Maybe that by cramming in millions of wonderful memories she could forget and ignore the deep, dark part of her. That the brilliance, the illumination of Holly in her life made her finally the person she was always supposed be.

Before the Peckspecktstions. Before the lies and games. Before boyfriends and the academy and all the bullshit. Maybe this was who Gail Peck really was, deep inside. Sappy. Goofy. Funny, in a dark way. A good girlfriend. A good cop. A good wife. A good mother.

She scooped up her phone on her way down to the kitchen and texted Vivian.

_Hope you_ _'_ _re not wasting your night free of your moms._

There was no reply. Vivian was probably sound asleep. She'd been burning both ends of the candle and had looked relieved when Gail told her the cages were closed. Too bad she couldn't get them closer to their arsonist. Gary had been remarkably silent and the body still wasn't ID'd. Too bad they were no closer on solving the chain of head bashings.

Gail yawned and pulled the roasted bird out, uncovered, and tossed it back in. Twenty years of the cooking. Twenty years of calling the terrible singer upstairs her wife. Less than twenty of calling herself a mom. Being a mom. She laughed softly, remembering that moment.

"What's so funny, chuckles?" Holly had on a faded t-shirt, sweatshorts, and her hair was tied back in a braid.

For a heartbeat, she could only look at Holly. Crows' feet, grey hair, a scar on her leg from the time she wiped out sledding and nearly gave eleven year old Vivian a coronary. It had been a lot of blood. And right there in the kitchen that night, Gail just thought how damn lucky she was. Holly cleared her throat and reminded Gail of the question. "Remember when Viv called us Moms for the first time?"

Holly's expression softened. "Of course."

"I'm starting to think we did a good job."

Her wife rubbed her shoulder, passing by to get a drink. "We did. Amazingly. She's a little weird, but she knows we love her."

That had worried Gail earlier on. How could someone who lost everyone ever trust two total fuck up strangers? And yet. They'd given her the tools she needed to be a functioning adult. They'd prepared her for the world. And they were still there for her whenever they were needed. Was that the same chain built up by Heinrich Haan and his merry band of killers? Did he seek out the people who had no one and give them purpose?

Holly gently buffed Gail's head. "That's not all you're thinking up, blondie."

"We're never gonna solve that case," sighed Gail, morosely.

"The Haan case?" When Gail nodded, Holly shrugged. "Probably not, no."

Gail grimaced. "How can you be so blasé about that?"

"A lot more of my cases never get closed," Holly pointed out. "Juice, water, or wine?"

"Wine. Red." She leaned on the counter, checking the timer on her watch.

Holly hummed the song she'd been singing in the shower. "Want to walk me from our darling, melancholy, child over to people who bash in heads?"

No, she did not. But Gail nodded. "I was thinking about Viv and what if we hadn't been there. What if she'd been stuck with her grandparents?" Holly made a face. "Right. And if she'd been there, she might have turned out like Jordan, my CI. Running in gangs, miserable. What if Haan looked for people like that? People who had no reason to trust anyone. And how is that any different from me giving her a ... A purpose I guess, by being a cop?"

Her wife looked up at the pictures hanging on the kitchen walls. Holly's face was thoughtful, something Gail had gotten used to over the years. While she processed and reacted quickly, Holly was much more methodical. She processed slower, but perhaps deeper. "At its most base level, it's not."

Leave it to Holly to say what Gail was thinking, but hoping to be wrong. She scowled. "Awesome."

"Purpose is purpose, honey. You and I gave her a direction, we gave her hope that there can be people to be trusted. If I can say so, we are pretty damn awesome."

Gail pulled the chicken out of the oven with a grunt. "I know we are. But ..."

Holly waited, patiently, while Gail fussed with turning off the oven and getting plates. The problem was Gail still felt bad. No, not bad, just a little sad. Could they have done more? Had they really helped their daughter? Vivian had been six when her family died. She had been old enough to know what she lost.

Similarly, Gail knew what she'd lost with her own family. To find out, as an adult, that her Peck family had prioritized grandeur of their name over her own well being was, in a word, galling. To have her father consciously walk away from them, to leave them unsettled and unresolved, still stung.

"Damn it," grumbled Gail. Holly didn't say anything. She put a hand on Gail's back and gently rubbed. "It's just ... You know?"

"No," said Holly, sadly. And that was a truth. Holly had parents who, save for two brief moments of consternation, had always been there for her. Brian certainly had been there every moment of Holly's life. She was a daddy's girl, but that never really impacted her relationship with her mother. Holly was free with both, free to talk about her feelings. Free to tell her mother she was an idiot about med school.

For many years, Gail had envied that. Then, one year when Vivian was not quite a teenager, Brian confided in his jealousy of the ease at which Gail and Holly navigated the world. They'd survived harder moments than he and Lily, with more grace and balance than they'd achieved. It had stunned Gail to realize she was the success. She had it all.

With a whine to her voice that she wished she could quell, Gail asked, "How come I still doubt?"

Holly sighed and leaned against her. "You're a mom. I think it's our job. Worry, doubt, stress, worry."

"I hate it."

Holly made a noise of agreement. "How many cases have you had go unsolved?"

Blinking, Gail craned her neck. She trusted those beautiful brown eyes. "A dozen or so."

"About one every other year?"

Gail nodded. "I only end up with high profile shit that kinda has to get solved."

"What about before?" Holly moved away to put the wine glasses out and get cutlery.

"Uh. Hell, as a uni? You kinda handed off everything interesting to the Ds and never saw it again."

"Hated it?"

"Despised. I don't like not knowing the end..." Gail trailed off. When had that changed? Hadn't she tried hard to not care? Don't get invested in people who are going to be idiots and hurt themselves. Don't feel. All the wrong lessons. The Pecks wanted her to feel for people to be a better cop, and back then all she'd felt was that this was the job she had to have. "Well shit."

Holly tilted her head. "Yes?"

"The difference is the part when we have to help others. To do the right things, not the easy ones."

Her wife smiled. "Always comes back to that, doesn't it?" She picked up the plates and brought them to the table. "She tries to do the right things. Stumbles, but hey, so do we."

"You know that those assholes think they're doing the right thing, babe."

Holly shook her head. "No they don't. They may say it, but they don't really think it. They think they're doing the easy thing and they try to convince themselves that it's right."

Gail squinted. "Did you just go all psych rotation on me, Doctor?"

"Maybe," said Holly, grinning. "About as far as my theory can go, mind, is that the reason you do better than the criminals you're up against, is that you're not dividing your mind. You know you're doing right."

"And here I thought I was the hero of a comic book."

Holly swatted her arm again. "You are so incredibly egotistical, Detective." But the broad smile, quirked a little to the side, told Gail the truth. That Holly loved it.

She grinned and sat down. "It's really annoying, though! I hate that these assholes have gotten away with it for years."

"Maybe their luck is up, now that Super Peck is on the case."

"Ew, that's my superhero name?" Gail screwed up her face. "Come on, nerd. Give me something better. Like ... "

"Blonde Mayhem?" Holly giggled. "The Bat Pitcher?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Shoots With Her Eyes Closed."

They spent the rest of the evening coming up with worse and worse names for each other. That was the way love was, though. Someone to tell the worst jokes to, and they still laughed.

* * *

"So is it like, love at first sight?"

Vivian blinked and looked at Lara, pausing in her filing of desk paperwork to end out her shift. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and that girl. Was it instant fireworks? Like you saw her running and now, ba-boom, you're hot for her?"

Startled, Viv hushed her. "McGann. And no. That's not even a thing," she hissed. "No one falls in love like that except in stupid soaps." Not even her mothers had fallen in love right away. Holly hadn't even realized she'd been in love until she walked away from Gail in the hallway, when they'd been broken up for over a month.

Lara handed over the next folder. "Why are you so hush-hush about it? Don't want your Moms to know?"

Jesus. "No, I don't. Because they'd run a background check on her." Vivian pitched her voice as low and flat as possible.

Her friend looked surprised. "You really think so?" The idea was clearly fomenting in Lara's mind, that someone from a line of cops might have that problem.

"I know so." She didn't. Gail might not, actually. Elaine would, though, which was the next worse thing. Steve would, and then he'd gossip about it with the known world. The jackass.

"Did she _really_ ask you out after you caught the supplier?"

Vivian nodded. "She did." As Vivian had frog-marched Gary back to the squad car, she'd been surprised by a very impressed looking Jamie standing next to Christian. When C took charge of Gary, Jamie had told her the building was safe and handed her a piece of paper. On the paper was a number and a date and location. Kind of suave, Vivian felt. She'd blushed the entire ride back to the station, with C teasing her.

"I'm impressed you caught on. Has it occurred to you that you're really bad at picking up when women are flirting with you?"

"Bite me."

Lara grinned. "So. When's the date?"

"Tonight at Mullroney's."

"Her turf?" Lara looked impressed. "Bold choice."

"The Penny would be worse," sighed Vivian. The Penny, even if no other Peck was there, would mean her family would know before the first beer. She slapped the last folder closed and shoved it into place. So many notes were still taken by hand, transcribed, and then filed by rookies. They'd never be paperless, she felt. "How did you even hear about this?"

"Christian asked me if the clothes you wore to work were okay for a date."

"Remind me to kill him." But then she asked. "They are okay, right?"

Lara waggled her hand. "You're riding your bike, so you have limited options."

Jeans and a nice, snug, shirt. The boots were a necessity though, unlike Gail, she kept them buckled. Well. It would have to do.

At least she wasn't going to be back at her parents house that night.

The ride to the bar was tense. Was Jamie going to be happy to see her? Was she nervous? Was it all just a little weird and awkward? Was she going to be suave and cool? Vivian sighed and parked her bike in back, locking her helmet in the box.

Inside, the bar was a little like the Penny. Dark, a little smelly, with photos of various firefighters all over. Okay, it was exactly like the Penny, just for firefighters. Why had she expected anything else?

And there was McGann. Jamie. Vivian ran a hand through her hair and smiled, crossing the bar. She was way too used to the Penny, which had been her bar her whole life. Once in a while Gail went to Burro, the bar by TwentySeven, but Vivian had only gone a couple times. This was a new experience. A new bar. And it was filled with firefighters.

"Hey," she smiled at Jamie, coming up to the table where two men sat along side the familiar face.

"Hey, you made it!" Jamie popped to her feet, her pony tail swinging, and hesitated. It was that awkward moment where two people were in public and trying to figure out if they were going to like each other in public or not. Did they hug as friends? "Um. Hey."

It was kind of cute and it helped that Jamie was just as confused as Vivian. "You said that already."

"Sounded familiar," laughed Jamie. "You have a motorcycle?" She gestured at the riding jacket in Vivian's hand. "Or are you just trying to be cool?"

"I have a motorcycle and yes, I know, stereotype." Glancing at the two men back at the table, she jerked her chin over to them. "Chaperones?"

"Oh right! These are the guys from my rookie class. Justin and Mike. Guys, this is Vivian."

The guys shook her hand and scooted around to make room. "Weren't you at the arson?" Justin was a stunningly athletic man with amber eyes, muscles, and a big smile.

Vivian nodded, signaling the waitress. "I'll get the next round." The order was for the house beer in a pitcher. Interesting. "Arson, yes, I was there for the fire." She'd been a hooker the night before, though that didn't matter much.

"She caught the guy," pointed out Jamie, a little defensive and proud at the same time. Perhaps it was equally weird for a firefighter to be asking out a cop as it was for a cop to ask out a firefighter.

Mike, a nearly gangly man with hair as blonde as a Peck, frowned and confirmed Vivian's theory. "I dunno, McGann. A cop?" Yep. Just as weird. Mike was clearly skeptical of Vivian's presence.

Rolling her eyes, Jamie instructed Vivian, "Ignore them."

"Don't worry, most of Fifteen is guys too," smiled Vivian.

The three firefighters bantered like the rookies in her division, clearly friends and family. They told stories about each other, teasing and fun. Like they called Jamie by her last name because there was a James and a male Jamie already. When the boys went to get the next round, Jamie leaned over. "Sorry. I was thinking we could do a drink and leave, maybe do dinner, but they got all weird when I said you were a cop."

"It's fine, really."

Jamie chewed her lip. "Really? Because you're not saying a whole lot."

Reaching over, Vivian touched Jamie's hand. "I get that a lot," she admitted. "And meeting the friends first? Daunting."

They both looked at their hands for a moment and Jamie blushed. That was a promising sign. Vivian was doing okay. Jamie asked, "Why daunting?"

"When my Moms first met the friends, they ended up getting into a stupid fight and breaking up."

That surprised Jamie. "Moms? Plural?"

"Yep, two moms."

Jamie looked impressed. "So one's a cop and one's the medical examiner?"

Vivian nodded. "Detective Inspector, yeah. Married twenty years last month." The boys returned with a pitcher at that moment.

"Twenty years, wow," Mike was impressed. "I bet they never have sex. The whole lesbian bed death thing."

Justin slapped his arm. "You can't just say that, bro!"

"He can say it all he wants, it's not true," sighed Vivian.

Smirking, Jamie asked, "All the time?"

"I've walked in on them." More than once. On the couch. And the lounge chair in the backyard. And their bedroom the times they forgot to close the door. And the guest house at the Stewarts. And every single possible place in the cottage except her room, thank god. At least not since it had been her room. At the old house, they'd probably had sex in the room that became Vivian's. Moving out hadn't changed that much, she'd let herself in to drop off a book Holly wanted, and caught them in the sun room.

The conversation moved to the awkwardness of how many of them had seen their parents at it (everyone but Mike). While she did engage a little more in the conversation, Vivian struggled to be chatty. It never came naturally to her in crowds, worse than just with one person, and she didn't ever feel like telling the guys about herself was fun. But all night, when Jamie smiled, it made her feel warm.

Around eleven they started heading out. Jamie held the door open, letting the boys settle the tab with most of Vivian's cash. "Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Second shift," nodded Vivian, stepping out into the muggy night. "I had fun."

Jamie looked doubtful. "You really don't talk much about yourself."

Shoving her hands into her pockets, Vivian sighed. "Yeah. I'm not a ... I'm not a me talker. Sorry."

But Jamie was leaning in a little. "Well. You're smart. I saw you go after the guy. That tall guy said you saw him when no one else did."

Vivian blinked. "C said that? Huh." She should thank him later. Right now there was a rather attractive woman, though, and she didn't want to think about Christian. "So. Not that I don't like your friends, but maybe we could go out without them next time?"

"Hey, you said a whole, long, sentence." Jamie was smirking. Teasing. And it was the good teasing.

"I gave a speech at the police academy."

"What about?"

"Medical jurisprudence and the patrol officer." Vivian grinned. Elaine had told her that Gail skipped out on her own speech.

Jamie smiled back. "You're very odd."

"Yeah, get that a lot too."

"But you asked me out for a next time."

Vivian nodded. "That does not happen a lot," she admitted.

The boys tumbled out of the bar. "McGann! You're the ride!"

"Be right there," she called back. Once the boys headed to the parking lot, Jamie cleared her throat. "If I say yes, will you tell me about your Moms breaking up and still managing to be married two decades?"

Vivian paused for a heartbeat. "Sure. If you tell me what Jamie's short for."

The firefighter laughed and leaned in, surprising Vivian, and kissing her quickly. It was a soft press of lips to lips. A split second. "Nothing. Jamie Lynn McGann. Call me."

The kiss had felt wildly different from kissing Liv, or the other girls she'd dated. There was something hopeful and promising about the nearly chaste kiss. She couldn't quite place the feeling. Once, Matty had asked if she was autistic, because she was so quiet and didn't always seem to get people. Really she was just self-contained, like Zoë from _Firefly_. And she did get people, she just thought they were often stupid.

In that moment, with that kiss, she felt stupid and warm and happy. Hopeful. That was a novel feeling from a kiss. She'd not had a girl move slow like that for a first kiss before.

The next morning, Christian was smirking at her. "Hello. You got home late."

"Eleven is not late, C." She rolled her eyes and started making coffee.

"And?" He looked hopeful.

Vivian frowned. "And what?"

"And did Vivian go out last night and meet the sexy sexy firefighter?"

"Vivian did," she admitted quietly. That got her an elbow. "What? I'm trying to make coffee here, loser."

With a broad grin, Christian asked, "Did you kiss?"

"Oh god, you're worse than my Moms," groaned Vivian. The water boiled and she poured it into the coffee.

"That would be a yes. Is there a second date?"

"Tentative." She had Jamie's number. "I have to call."

Christian poked her shoulder. "Call her. I haven't seen you smile like that ... Not since Gail screwed up on the rope swing when we were fourteen."

Vivian smiled. That had been a great day. Gail's epic belly flop had been caught on camera too. "That was funny."

"You were happy. You don't do the happy smile a lot." Christian stole the first cup of coffee and smiled.

She sighed. "Well." And he poked her arm again. "Ow! What the hell is up with that?"

Christian looked at her for a long moment. "Smile more. Laugh more. Everyone deserves to be happy, right?"

"Stop hanging out with Aunt Traci," muttered Vivian. "Look. Stop talking about Jamie to Lara, okay? Pecks plus firefighters? Cats and dogs. I don't want Gail to get all..." She waved a hand. "Gail."

"I'd be more worried about Miss Elaine, ya know," replied Christian. "Anyway, be happy. You know your moms care more about that, right?"

In her heart she knew. Vivian nodded. "Yeah." But sometimes her head got a little confused. "Look. Just ... Just let me do it in my own time? My last four girlfriends blew up spectacularly, so I kinda wanna take this slow."

"Alright," he said with a deep sigh. "At least you won't be using up all the hot water."

* * *

"Bazinga!" Wanda burst into Holly's office with a cry of joy.

Holly blinked a few times before asking, "Yes, Sheldon?"

"Arson headway. The supplies came from the stash at the tenements."

They'd assumed so, given Gary's presence. He was still refusing to give his name, according to Gail, so they'd taken to calling him Gary Smith until his DNA confirmed he was, indeed, Gary Cortez. But still, assumptions never held up in court. "Solid?" She looked up at Wanda seriously.

The younger woman nodded enthusiastically. "Solid as a drum. Tight as a rock."

Holly sighed a little. Of all of Wanda's habits, screwing up analogies like that was one that had only gotten worse. "And did you send me the results?"

"Of course," Wanda said with a huff. "I'm faster than the Internet."

Tapping her keys, Holly pulled up the results. "Hardly. I'm just trying to make sense of the data from the horse bone." That had been her headache. While Holly was good with bones, she was used to human bones and not the ancient. After calling the same forensic anthropologist she'd used on the mass grave from the 1900s, she'd had to find a zoologist who dabbled enough in the archeological.

Finally, though, she had her results. And they made no sense. The bone had been preserved and strengthened, but not in the way anyone of them had been familiar with. That meant she had to call a taxidermist, which was grotesque to the extreme. Even Gail, who delighted in the macabre, thought the idea of preserving animals was disgusting.

"Maybe you should call in a paleontologist," mused Wanda, after Holly explained the situation. "They don't just deal in fossils, you know. And if anyone knows about old bones..."

Holly sighed. "Which means a trip to McGill." Ever since Kathy Reichs, more well known for conceiving of the _Bones_ books and TV show, McGill had held a strange prominence in Canada for the go-to resource for anything osteopathic. "Well. Anyway." She looked at the results from Wanda's work.

The pathologist dropped onto Holly's couch, looking out the window. "What got me is that it matches the serial arson theory. Same as for the fire in that homeless guy's cart." Wanda paused. "What happened to him?"

"The police got him into a housing facility, but as I understand it, he prefers being nomadic."

Wanda snorted. "I like my condo, thank you."

Smiling, Holly tabbed through the results. "I'm fond of four walls and a roof myself. Think you can trace this back to anything useful?"

"Working on an intersection of the drugs and the fire. The drugs did not match the ones at the arson, by the by."

"Of course not," Holly said under her breath. "That would be easy. What started the fire?"

"Dunno yet. Full arson investigation is ongoing. You should see the amount of bullshit the trace guys brought back. Well, you probably did."

Holly looked up again, confused. "I don't haunt the trace lab."

"I just meant your daughter has been in there off and on all day."

What? Holly blinked a few times. "Oh. Well she's assigned to the case." But even so. That was odd. Maybe she'd have to swing by the lab soon. "Has Captain Peck shown up to see?"

"Nup. Lt. Tran and John- Sgt. Simmons did though. Actually they're in there now, harassing the techs." Wanda rolled her eyes. "I did give them the info first."

"Good. Good." Holly locked her computer. "I'm going to go kick them out. Trace lab hates the uniformed oppression."

Wanda laughed and went back to her office. She was now the proud resident of Holly's pre-medical director office. It was sad, in a way that Wanda would never rise up in the ranks. She'd be good. As it stood, with Holly having no desire to retire or step down, they'd be looking at either a new chief ME from out of the territory, or promoting someone over the others.

Well. Thoughts for another day.

She stepped into the hallway of the trace lab and heard a familiar voice talking excitedly.

"So I was looking over the list, and I kept thinking that the stolen car didn't make any sense. I mean, who steals a Volvo, right? But! This is a pre-2020 car! Which is when we had the new laws about greenhouse gasses. And what's different? The filter! And! The converters had to be installed on all cars to pass the emissions tests! And what did this car not have?"

Holly slowed down. That was Vivian. Babbling. About science.

It was sadly easy to forget how much Vivian was like her; how much of Holly's science nerdiness the girl had absorbed. But then, in a moment like this one, Vivian's switch was flipped. She was excited about what she'd figured out and she had to share.

"Hang on," said John Simmons slowly. "You're telling me the arsonist ripped the emissions filter out of a shitty Volvo just to set a fire? How the hell would he know what car our vic was driving?"

"Because it was stolen months ago," sang out Vivian. "He'd been driving it for months. We've got it on cctv as hitting up the hookers there for months. In that car. So if the arsonist was trying to kill the guy, he could easily have staked him out, stalked him, and then..." Vivian mimed an explosion. Holly saw Sue Tran and Shay Peck smirk.

John did not look as amused. "Murder by arson. That's far fetched."

"Someone's died at every fire except the one in the shopping cart of Mr. Grey."

"Who?" That was Shay.

Vivian explained simply. "Wentworth Grey, the homeless guy who had an incendiary device found in his cart. Made of..." The rookie beamed at Sue Tran, who started laughing.

"Oh hell, that's good, Peck." Sue shook her head. "Made of parts traced back to a mother fucking Volvo."

"Son of a ..." John slapped his head. "How the fuck did we miss that?"

Sue shook her head. "How the fuck did you think of using a car to start a fire?"

"Google," said Vivian, sheepishly. "If the Mounties come down because of my browser history, you'll bail me out, right?"

That was as good a time as any to join the conversation, decided Holly. "If Gail doesn't. Do you have a working model of the trigger?"

Everyone turned to stare at Holly. "Um. No. Theoretical." Vivian hunched a little, like when she'd been a teen and taken out Rachel's car's window with her rocket.

"Alright," said Holly, pulling out her tablet and tapping in a requisition. She handed it to Vivian, who tapped in the details. "If. _If_ this works, you can blow it up at the range."

Sue brightened. "Isn't that my line, doc?"

"My lab, my rules, Tran," Holly pointed out. The lab techs all gave her a grateful look. "Besides, you aren't allowed to use the bomb range without lab sign off after last time."

Conceding, Sue shrugged. "You set one dummy on fire and they never let you forget it."

Shay snorted. "One and they might forgive you. Your bomb set all six on fire. And cracked the shield."

Glancing over, Holly saw Vivian barely suppressing her amusement. "Just so we're all on the same page," said Holly.

"Do we have a lead on the supplies yet?" Shay tilted her head to look at John.

"Not yet. Price is following that up."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Since I can't process invisible evidence, go away. You're oppressing my techs and there are other cases."

John nodded at her. "Right. Come on, Peck Junior. You're gonna run names for me until your doohickey shows up."

"Technically it's a thingamabob, sir," joked Vivian, following him out.

Shay, who looked very little like Gail, went with them. "I want to know where you picked that up, cousin, because Gail is shit at it."

On the other hand, Sue lingered, watching them all vanish around the corner. "So. It's really smart."

Holly sighed. "I know. And I'm torn on it."

"We do more than run into buildings." Sue rocked on her heels.

"It's not my choice, Sue." Holly shook her head. "You thinking about jumping to Inspector? You'd be a good ETF super..."

"You're changing the subject."

"You're talking about recruiting my only child for the highest risk unit this side of undercover." Holly scowled. "What would you think if one of your kids was up for it?"

The other woman looked a little abashed. Her twins, something Gail had laughed over when it happened, were now eight. "I don't know. I'll probably come over to your place and beg for advice."

That was fair. "It's not my place to tell her what to be or do, Sue. I worry about her now. I'll worry about her as an ETF agent. If she asks me what I think, I'll tie Gail down and tell Vivian to follow her gut."

Sue nodded. "You know, it's hugely impressive and kinda freaky that you're just okay with this."

It really was, except that it wasn't. "I'm not... When I was Viv's age, I knew what I wanted to be. My parents let me, even if they didn't understand it. So..." Holly trailed off, unsure of how to explain further.

The ETF lieutenant made a noise of understanding. "So you have to, too." Sue sighed. "They set you a high bar, huh?"

"Bit, yeah." By being okay and understanding with Holly's strange desire to be a pathologist, by accepting her sexuality, and by supporting her every step of the way, her parents had given her an incredibly high bar. They were the parents she wanted to be for her daughter. Even if Holly didn't always understand what Vivian wanted. She was always going to try and be the mom who understood.

But Holly really wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

It was infinitely more fun to watch someone else interrogate losers than to do it herself. While Gail was good at it, she was never really as comfortable as she looked. She'd have to ask John how he felt about that...

"Gary." John leaned back in his chair. "All we want is a list of who you sold to. We've already got you on possession of drugs. Your DNA is all over the materials we found in your old apartment. But we know you didn't set this fire. Who did?"

For the umpteenth time, the lawyer spoke. "As your legal representation, I consul you not to answer this question.

For the umpteenth time, Gary nodded and was silent.

For the umpteenth time, John sighed. "We're going to have to charge you with the full list, Gary."

Lather, rinse, repeat. Gail was glad she wasn't in the room. She might have snapped. Instead, her favorite partner was calmly explaining how it was in Gary's best interest to help them out. But Gary seemed to have honor among thieves. It was rare, but some people did feel that way.

Gail closed her eyes and thought about the situation. In truth, Gary would only serve light sentences. They hadn't caught him selling or actively distributing anything. They had him on possession. They would have no real issue pushing an intent charge of that. So how could they scare him into flipping?

Intimidation was an ugly part of her job. Her wife absolutely hated it. Her inlaws, while they were wonderful people, were disgusted by that aspect of police work. And if she was being totally honest, Gail hated it too. Superintendent Elaine Peck had been amazing at it. As sad as it was, Gail was good at it too.

Gary's unwillingness to talk made Gail think about her own lingering case, the Skull Smash Serials. That was what the news decided to call it after stupid Gerald slipped up and told his (ex) girlfriend that the body found in the woods was related to a long term case. Frankly, if Gerald wasn't so good with dealing with junkies, Gail would have pushed for him to retire a long time ago.

Oh.

Grinning, she went back into the main floor and caught one of the rookies, Hanford, by the arm. "Hey, Abercrombie. Go find me Officer Moore."

"Uh, my name's Hanford, ma'am."

"Don't care. Get me Moore in five minutes." He hesitated and Gail scowled. That sent him scurrying.

Behind her, her brother coughed. "I don't know why he thinks you'd forget him. He hit on Holly."

"He would have hit on Traci," Gail pointed out. "I think junior warned him."

Steve snorted. "What's up with Officer Dumber Moore?"

Gail smiled. "Duncan has one particular and peculiar talent."

"Leaking information like a sieve?"

She rolled her eyes at her older brother. "Watch and learn, Gomer Pyle." Gail waved at Gerald. "Duncan, c'mere."

Bewildered and a little nervous, Gerald babbled in a way that was not endearing. "Ma'am, I'm real sorry about the news. I was just thinking she'd maybe go out with me again-"

"Do you want to make up for it?" Gail cut him off. At least when Holly babbled, it was cute.

He blinked at her a few times. "Um. Make up. Yes, yes ma'am!"

Gail beamed at him. "Good. Come here." She took him by the upper arm and hauled him into the monitoring room. "The tweaker there is named Gary. I want to know who he sold arson supplies to. But he's keeping silent."

Duncan looked from Gail to Gary and back. "You want me to break him?"

"No. I want you to be you."

Silent for a moment, Duncan made a surprised noise. "But his lawyer..."

"I'll take care of that." She pulled out a notebook from her pocket and scribbled on it. "Give that to Sgt. Simmons and then stay there on guard, okay?"

Nodding, Duncan took the note and didn't look at it. "I'll do my best, boss!"

Gail sighed as Duncan hustled to the door. "Swear to god, he has the mind of a mollusk, but..." She and her brother watched Duncan walk inside and hand the note over.

Her sergeant was too smart to look back at the glass, but Gail could feel his confusion. John nodded. "Mr. O'Neill, would you mind coming with me for a moment? Officer Moore, here will keep an eye on your client."

The lawyer followed John out and Gail smiled. "He's about to tell the suit that Gary's drug test is back and he's got more illegal drugs in him than on him."

"Haven't you had him here for hours?" Steve looked amused and laughed when Gail nodded. "You held on to that?"

"Hey, no law says I have to tell 'em right away!" She turned her attention to the room. Duncan looked pretty calm and relaxed. In the decades he'd been a cop, Duncan had been carefully and surprisingly molded into a decent officer. He'd never be more than that, but he was okay with that standing. Hell, Duncan even had a couple awards, all for working with junkies.

And on the days Gail needed someone to bond with a drug using perp, she got Duncan to stand guard over them and just be himself.

It was a weird skill. She had never asked him why he had a knack for it, nor had Gail asked his parents. At one point, she'd run Duncan's name and popped open a juvie record for theft under, and nothing more. There was no answer to his talent to be found in the files. Maybe it was just a thing, like the Peck siblings knowing sign language.

Every time Duncan moved, Gary jumped. It was sort of entertaining to watch, in a very demented way. Well. She had a screwed up sense of humor anyway.

"This is weird. And creepy."

"Says the man who nearly did time for a bomb."

Steve eyed her. "You know why I used Oliver's ID."

Gail did a double take. For the last twenty years that had been a case no one was allowed to talk about. "Seriously?"

"Oh hell," Steve rolled his eyes. "If the Irish Mob wants to kill me for a cover up that they made a movie about, let 'em!"

That had, indeed, been the most idiotic thing about the whole fucking mess. The movie, which had cast Tom Cruise as Oliver and they had teased him for years, was based on conjecture and rumor. A good cop, honest and true, was tasked with infiltrating the mob over the course of decades.

Gail sighed. "They didn't get any of it right, Steve."

"I know, right? I'm just glad they didn't cast Carrot Top to play me."

She nearly snorted a laugh. "I might have watched the movie if they had."

They both laughed softly. "How long do you think it'll take for him to crack?" Steve turned the subject back to work.

"Not much longer. See how he's giving Gerald the side eye?" Steve made a noise and nodded. "He's about to start feeling him out for a fix."

They waited, quietly watching through the glass. It took a little longer than Gail would have liked, but finally Gary spoke.

"Hey, man. Do you, like, have to watch me?"

Gerald nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

Gary sighed. "On tv they leave people alone all the time."

"Sure, we used to. Still do if we want 'em to crack."

"They don't want me to crack?"

The officer laughed. "Man, you been in here for hours. Past shift change."

"Oh." Gary looked thoughtful. "Is that why pretty boy isn't here?"

"Hanford? Nah, he's a rook. Can't trust 'em."

"Noobs. Hear that, brother." They shared a smirk. Gail was glad they couldn't see her roll her eyes. And then Gary said something delightful. "You look like a brother who knows things."

Bless his stupid little heart, Duncan rolled with it. "I've been known to acquire, from time to time."

Gary licked his lips. "So. Like. What might a man imbibe?"

"Depends on what a man confides," replied Duncan.

Steve snorted. "Holy crap, Gerald is useful?"

Gail beamed. "I know, right?"

It was great how things worked out sometimes.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once in a while, Gerald is useful. And Vivian had a successful date. And yes, she is totally calling Jamie for date #2.
> 
> Let me know how you feel about this whole 'Vivian dates a firefighter' stuff. And how do you think Gail actually will react? And who else is shocked that Gerald was useful!?
> 
> Update: I've added a warning to this chapter. I'm fully aware that the characters you love have said some horrible things and implied worse. They're meant to be flawed. The issues and problems raised here aren't going to be solved in a week or an episode, so they do feel unanswered here. They are. My attempt was to show the evil that GOOD people do unconsciously. I may have failed based on some reviews, and I apologize. I'm trying to be better.


	15. 02.05 Broad Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man is shot and killed in the middle of the Pride Parade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Gail's least favorite duty ever: the Pride Float. When a death happens at the parade, Gail finds herself the witness for a murder.

Between her schedule and Jamie's, it took a week to get to the second date. That was just coffee at Viv's favorite coffee shop, since Vivian was stuck on the night shift for a few days and Jamie was about to start the rough part of her schedule. But they talked a little, much more privately, and Vivian explained she'd been adopted at age six. Jamie's parents were a teacher and a florist, supportive if confused by her career, and lived in Mississauga. They also kissed again, a little more seriously, when Viv dropped Jamie off on her way to work.

It wasn't like they were really going to run into each other at work often, and Jamie's schedule was cryptic by half. It didn't help that the precinct was a mess with a break on the arson case. Everyone had been impressed and shocked that Gerald had gotten the information out of the supplier. Sadly he'd also uncovered that Gary rolled on _his_ supplier, meaning the kid to whom he'd been selling was, likely, getting the stuff direct from someone else.

Win some, lose some.

None of that helped her love life, but Vivian wasn't about to complain to her mother about that. It would raise too many questions of who she was kissing. A firefighter. It would probably go over poorly. And yet Vivian was still so very intrigued by Jamie Lynn McGann. Enough that she called her back and set up a dinner. That led to another parking lot make out session. It also led to Lara and Christian teasing the hell out of her for the expressions on her face when Jamie would text her during the day. Yes, she had a crush on someone who liked her too.

Another week later they went to an afternoon movie, Jamie's idea, and ended up making out on Vivian's motorcycle, this time outside Jamie's apartment. Jamie invited her in, which might have worked out (Vivian was contemplating ditching the family dinner), but just as they started to tentatively explore each other over clothes and on the couch, Jamie's roommate came home. Depressed. Having been dumped by her boyfriend.

Ruby had been her best friend in school, Jamie had explained before. They'd been roommates since their senior year of school. It was like Holly and Lisa and Rachel. They supported each other, not always kindly. But at least Ruby didn't make blue collar comments.

"Maybe we should go to your place," muttered Jamie as Ruby went to the bathroom.

"You really want to ditch your best friend?" As Jamie sighed Vivian added, in the hopes of making her feel less guilty, "And I'm supposed to have dinner with Moms tonight. Unless you want to come."

Jamie winced. "I forgot you go there all the time."

"You say it like its a bad thing." Vivian wasn't sure if it was. She was 24. Eating at home with her parents wasn't too weird. Was it? From Ruby, Vivian got the impression that the two of them had moved out together as teenagers and rarely went to see their parents. At least Vivian had moved out recently. She didn't want to think about how well 'I live with my parents' might go over with Jamie.

A pair of soft lips touched hers. "Only because I want to spend more time with you. Uninterrupted."

Sighing, Vivian fought not to grip Jamie's waist and pull her close. Instead she gently kissed Jamie again. "Me too."

A door or something slammed in the back of the apartment. "I need to be a good friend." Jamie reluctantly let go, her fingers lingering in a way even Vivian couldn't miss.

"As much as I hate that, it's kinda great that you care." Vivian picked up her jacket and pulled it on.

"I think it's great how you look in that jacket." The brown eyes roamed over Vivian's form. "It is, literally, not fair how hot you look. And it's worse in your uniform. Mine makes me look like a box."

Vivian smiled. "Fireproof box."

Squinting, Jamie picked up Vivian's helmet. "Protection is a turn on?"

"Hey, I'm not the badge bunny." She ooffed as Jamie shoved the helmet into her stomach. "You said it."

"Go home." But Jamie was smiling. "Text me your schedule?"

Vivian nodded. "I will. McNally posts 'em tomorrow."

There was one more kiss before Vivian rode to her childhood home. Her buoyant mood was squashed by a scowling Gail Peck at the house. "Your mother is on the warpath," Holly said low and warningly as she hugged Vivian hello.

"What happened?"

"Luck has a family crisis, so it's Gail or Frankie on the float next weekend." Holly sighed and shook her head. "I need to finish my file and I'll be right back."

Vivian winced and followed Holly through to the kitchen. Frankie was the poster child for bad PR. "Which means Mom's on the float. Do I need to volunteer?" The year before, Vivian had been a super baby cop, stuck on tape duty.

"No," said Gail rather loudly. "McNally needs all of you on the route. Some dickweed threatened to shoot the church floats."

"Oh. I'm working the parade?" Damn. There went her chances of a getting together with Jamie in the next seven days. Pride week was rough enough when she were having fun. Working the parade was bound to be exhausting.

Holly cleared her throat as she came back. Clearly she had very little work left. "Can we shelve all bitchfests about the day? I was promised homemade sausages." She paused at the foot of the stairs and winced.

In the pause, Gail started snickering like a twelve year old boy. Holly just smiled and, in that moment, Vivian knew her mother set herself up for the joke. Any time Gail was in a mood, Holly was good at making her smile a little. "Really, Mom?" Vivian played into it.

Gail laughed for real now. "Fine! Sausages! Mini human, put on an apron and assist."

"I'm taller than you are, Mom," teased Vivian.

"You're also dressed a little nice for dinner for us," countered Gail. "Were you on a date?"

Vivian sighed. "Jesus, I was out... Lunch." She poked holes in the sausages and deflected. "Maybe next year we can mommy/daughter the float?"

Her blonde mother looked thoughtful. "You're not just saying that because you're trying to mollify me."

"No. I kinda liked the float. And it's not like I'm in the closet at work."

Gail made a snort of a laugh. "Well not since Steve knows. No going back now, girlfriend."

"He really is a gossip." Vivian smiled. Steve was a conundrum. He kept secrets that mattered and bribed and cajoled with the ones that felt like they didn't. He was an amazing professional. And in his own, odd, way, had made Gail stronger by not letting her hide about who she was. Vivian put the fork down and gave Gail a quick hug.

"Ew! What the hell, twerp?" But Gail was laughing, happily.

"I love you, Mom. Even if you're the least mature person I know."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Maturity is overrated."

"You're only saying that because you're incapable of it," teased Vivian.

Of course, Gail's lack of maturity was not all encompassing. When it came to cleaning up the house or showering (if one happened to be a particularly filthy hoyden of a child) or homework, Gail was astoundingly grown. It was Holly who didn't give a shit about the homework, or attendance at school.

"Stop poking the bear, honey," said Holly, smiling, on her return. She had her hair free from the bun she wore when working. "Would you rather work the parade or the float?"

Vivian made a face. "I'd rather binge watch that new sci-fi show. That reminds me! Did you see who the favorite is for the new Doctor?"

Both mothers nodded. "Ginny Weasly as the Doctor," said Gail. "Finally a ginger!"

"Pretty sure she has a real name, Gail." Holly leaned against Gail's back to watch her cook.

Simple moments, but Vivian smiled at her parents. Well. Maybe one day she could have that too. Someone to tease and flirt with and just be her misanthropic self with.

* * *

The last damned paper was signed and Holly shoved her laptop away. It was nowhere near as satisfying as throwing a pen down, but it was what she had these days. She also had her staff set up for the parade. Marching with the doctors, and representing the medical examiners, were Wanda and Ivan. A handful of techs, including the cute guy from ballistics, were walking with them.

While not a fan of marching herself, Holly did keep an eye on things to make sure the offices would be peopled by those who were not about to embark on a week long Pride Fest. That meant limiting the people who could go, in official capacities at least, and serious consequences for those who called in sick.

After all, they weren't some accounting job. People's lives depended on them. The answers of their pain were in the hands of the labs. Employees who ditched work just to have a few laughs and celebrate Pride quickly found the Chief Medical Examiner didn't fuck around. Gay or not, the work was important and to be taken seriously. Calling in hungover was not cool.

Of course, Holly had done her stint at the parade as a teenager and college student. Who hadn't? Thousands of people with one thing in common. It had always felt marvelous to see that the odd part of her was also completely normal. Over time, the more comfortable Holly was with her own self, the less she felt a pressing need to celebrate her sexuality in public.

Maybe that was why Vivian wasn't as fussed about those things. Her whole life, she'd been surrounded by lesbians, for the most part. And gay men, though that was mostly because of Matty. Still, gay wasn't something to come to terms with for Vivian; it was what it was and Vivian never seemed to worry about it. Of course, their world was different. When Holly had been young, being homosexual was talked about quietly and behind closed doors. No one was 'out' back then, not even famous actors unless there had been a scandal.

But then, slowly, it changed. Ellen and Rosie came out publicly, Ellen gracing the cover of a Time magazine Holly still kept, much like her grandfather had held on to a D-Day newspaper. It was the day her world changed. That day was the turning point for a generation. It was when Holly went from being shy and embarrassed about being what she was, to quietly accepting.

It wasn't easy. Her brief tiff with her own mother, titularly over medical school, had really been a conglomeration of many things. Lily had dreamed of the normal life, where someone went to school and college, who dated and eventually met a boy she'd married, who had children. And then she had Holly, who didn't really do those things properly. Except for the school.

When Holly announced she wanted to be a pathologist, it had been the safe thing for Lily to yell about. But they'd both known, they'd always both known it was so much more than that. That hadn't made her struggles to understand herself any easier, but Holly couldn't blame her mother at all. Certainly not now when her own daughter was forging a path Holly didn't understand.

She raised her kid as best she could and tried not to screw her up when she diverged and went her own way.

Thank goodness Gail had met her years later. When the impish blonde bombshell dropped into her life, Holly knew who and what she was. Mostly. She knew she was a lesbian, that was certain. The whole figuring out what kind of person she was, well, that took a long time. It would not have been as successful or easy without Gail. And from their shared confidence, they had apparently showed Vivian how to be a successful adult.

Not for the first time, Holly wondered what would have happened had they not adopted her. Vivian with her justified fears and her emotional scars needed someone who understood that pain. And she needed someone who could love her unconditionally. Admittedly, that was not how Holly had seen herself, those years ago.

Holly turned the photo of the three of them with King William and Queen Kate around. The teenaged Vivian had informed the royals, rather boldly, that had her mother died, she would have been pretty anti-Royal. Thankfully, Wills and Kate found that hilarious and agreed that they would have expected no less.

But that photo of a wife, a mother, and a successful pathologist... That photo was not the future Holly had seen. She never wanted kids. She never wanted to marry. She doubted she'd find someone to date, let alone be serious about. And Holly smiled. Because younger-Holly was an absolute fucking twit.

She could have it all.

She could see yourself reflected in another human who learned how to be based on her. Biology be damned. She could see yourself reflected in the joy of someone who loved her in ways she didn't think really happened.

What had Gail said? Holly had shown up and blown out her heart, splattering her guts on the wall, and leaving her gasping for breath, wondering if she'd ever really loved anyone before. In a way, Holly was glad Gail never told her that early on. It would have been daunting and overwhelming. A lot of pressure to be a good girlfriend, and especially a first time girlfriend. But by the time Gail evolved to those words, Holly already knew how much she meant to the petulant and cranky cop.

They didn't need to communicate with words to tell each other how much they loved each other. Which was good, since Gail was still somewhat stunted when it came to expressing her actual feelings. Tapping her watch, Holly sent a heartbeat to Gail. She'd send one to Vivian, though the girl was on patrol and had taken to wearing Gail's 10-year watch while working.

A tapping on her wrist made her smile. Gail sent a heartbeat and a drawn question mark. A simple statement and question. Was Holly okay?

Picking up the phone, Holly tapped Gail's number. She actually did have a question for the blonde. "Hi, honey, did you make it to the dry cleaners at lunch?"

Gail swore. "No, I'm sorry. I think I can squeeze it in-"

"No no, I have the time. I finished my work, so I'll get it. Besides my dress and your uniform jacket, what else am I getting?"

There was a moment of silence while Gail mentally pulled up the list. Over the years, Holly had learned that Gail's memory was triggered by locations as well as situations. The shopping list was easier to recall when standing in the grocery store, and so on. But if she gave Gail enough time, she'd remember the whole list for anything. "Dress, jacket, my red dress, the slacks you wore to our anniversary, the winter pea coats. Oh and Vivian's dress uniform."

Holly blinked, writing that down. "When did Vivian get a dress uniform?" Not everyone had a dress uniform, Holly had learned over the years. Of course Pecks did, but she'd not known Vivian had one.

"Mom got it for her," Gail said blithely. "She's coming to the fancy ball."

"Huh." Holly wondered if her daughter would stand straighter, like Gail did, in that uniform. There was something about it. Even Steve looked classy in it. "Well. Finish yelling at losers and I'll get your pants, Peck."

"I'd rather get _in_ your pants, Stewart." There was a male groan on the phone. "Oh shut up, Simmons. I saw you making out at my anniversary."

"Stop bothering John, honey. I love you."

"Back at ya, sexy. Love you." Gail laughed as she hung up.

Of all the things that had changed in life, Holly was glad Gail's irrepressible nature had not.

* * *

"Stop fidgeting."

"It itches," whined Vivian.

Gail closed her eyes and counted to five. "This is your own fault for not learning how to tie a damned tie, child."

Stilling, Vivian sighed. "Okay. Let me try it again."

"Please, before I strangle you." Gail wasn't serious and she knew that Vivian knew it. The girl — young woman — rolled her eyes at Gail. It was driving Gail a little mad, though, especially since Vivian was messing with her phone instead of tying her tie. More snippily than she wanted to be, Gail bit out a question. "Do you want me to walk you through it? Again?"

Exceptionally calmly, Vivian shook her head. "Nope. I'm looking at the diagram... Okay." Staring at her phone intently, the rookie cop carefully mimicked the steps and finally managed to get it done. "So?"

It was good. Begrudgingly Gail nodded. "A full Windsor would be better," she noted.

Making a face, Vivian undid the four-in-hand knot and shook the tie out. "Don't you have to get dressed?"

"I've been tying ties for fifty years, kid. Dad taught me when I was ten."

"Jesus, why?"

"Pecks are cops, sweetheart. And cops wear ties." Gail smirked. "My asshole grandfather hated when they switched rookies to clip-ons."

Vivian snorted. "You are aware that they're insane, right, Mom?"

"Oh, yeah." She watched Vivian carefully tie the knot. "Good enough. I'm gonna get dressed and help zip your mom into her dress."

"Ew, you perv." But she smiled and picked up her jacket. "I'll make one more pot of joe."

"J'adore, mon singe." Gail bounded up the stairs, trying to sort out her feelings of Vivian in a dress uniform.

For the most part, she'd realized that Pecks leaned towards classic, heartbreaker looks. She was a dress girl, and loved to make herself look elegant and classy. Holly liked to dress simply, but slickly. Pantsuits that made her look lean and long, or maybe a dress that gave her a total power dom vibe (and dear god, Gail loved that look). By contrast, Vivian had grown into a very casual cool look. A button down, but over a long sleeved shirt and then she'd throw on suspenders.

Seeing her daughter in a dress uniform like this was weird. Vivian looked less comfortable than she was in her uniform. When in blue, Vivian looked reliable and dependable. Put her in dressy clothes and she still had the demeanor of a child playing dress up. Which Vivian had never done.

Opening the bedroom door, Gail announced herself. "Just me. The monkey is making more coffee."

"Thank god. Zip me up?"

Gail grinned. "I have kick ass timing." She bumped the door closed with her hip and all but danced over to zip Holly up, kissing her shoulder as she did. "I love how you look in blue."

The dress complimented the color of Gail's dress blues, but also flattered the hell out of Holly's skin color. God, Holly was beautiful. "Thank you," laughed Holly. "I need you to be a girl for me, though."

"I'm _excellent_ at that," Gail said, beaming, and taking off her jeans and t-shirt.

"Pick my jewelry out?" Her wife sounded abashed. She'd never gotten the hang of accessorizing. "The blue earrings don't look right."

"Too many blues. Yeah, and not the green. Do the diamonds we got for our tenth. And the necklace." Gail heard Holly hesitate and sighed. Her wife was dithering over wearing the expensive shit to a public service event. "Lunchbox, put it on."

Holly sighed. "I feel …" She paused. "I feel entitled."

"You _are_ entitled, Dr. Stewart." For years Gail had been arguing that, practically speaking, they were entitled people who were lucky enough to have money and education, and that there was nothing wrong with that. They gave back to society in ways most people with money would never consider. Their entire lives were given to literally public service. So they should wear the goddamned diamonds if they wanted to.

"Showy?"

"Holly…" Pinching the bridge of her nose, Gail tried to think why Holly would be so twitchy about it right this moment. It came up once in a while, usually when they were off to some stupid fundraiser for underprivileged people. And yes, Gail agreed it was gauche to wear jewels to those events. Today, she just wanted to make it through the fucking opening ball for Pride Week in one piece. Shake hands with the mayor. Pose for a photo with the new Prime Minister. "Holly, I'm really not equipped to argue with you about this today."

There was a lengthy silence from her wife. Finally Holly exhaled very loudly. "I'm not mad at you."

Well that was always a good thing. "I'm not mad at you. I'm … I'm very thin right now, Holly."

"I know," said Holly, grumbling. "And I'm feeling very snippy so I'm picking a fight. I hate this."

"You're not the one in the monkey suit," noted Gail and immediately regretted it. "Wow. I'm in bitch mode."

Holly gave in to whatever was on her mind and started laughing. That was fairly normal at least. "God, remember when you were a totally self-unaware idiot?"

Glancing over, curiously, Gail saw Holly was sitting on the bed, heels in one hand. "So… last week?"

Holly smirked, narrowing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I really have no idea why I'm annoyed by all this."

And at that, Gail sort of did. "We're probably feeding off each other in our abject hatred of shared experiences," she muttered.

"True. You do hate Pride Week."

"I hate being on stage and clapping my fucking cymbals." Gail pulled her shirt on and started on the buttons. "I hate being a poster child for lesbian success. I hate people pointing at me. I don't get to drink and blow off steam. And its not like I actually _suffered_ being a fucking lesbian. I mean, literally _nothing_ happened. I fell in love with you, and everyone just went 'oh, that makes sense.' And we all moved the fuck on." Huffing, Gail turned and held out her arms. "And I can't fucking button my wrists."

The brunette was smiling a little sadly. She dropped her heels and very gently took Gail's wrist, doing up the buttons slowly. "Your father. And the majority of your father's family."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Small loss. Fuck 'em, they never liked me anyway."

Holly hummed softly and buttoned Gail's other sleeve. "Still."

"No, them being assholes has nothing to do with me being a lady lover, Holly, and you know it. And Dad… well he is a class to himself."

"This feels like our argument about the anniversary party."

Pausing, Gail picked up her tie. "I was wrong about that one."

"You were, yes," agreed Holly. She waked over to the dresser and opened her jewelry box. "Where are the diamonds anyway?"

"Safe." Gail stared at the tie for a moment. "Vivian barely knows how to tie her tie."

"Well she wore a clip on, honey," said Holly, laughingly. "Besides, she's not a tie kind of girl. Suspenders."

Gail found the laughter just snuck its way out. "God, I was thinking that. She's… She's nothing like us."

Conspiratorially, Holly pointed out the obvious. "I heard she was adopted."

Yeah, there it went. Gail's laughter bubbled over. She sat down on the bed, helplessly giggling over something that wasn't even funny. At some point, Holly sat beside her, also laughing stupidly. Finally though, Gail wheezed out a long sigh. "We are insane."

Holly leaned back, her beautiful, quirky, smile crossing her face. "Laughter is the best medicine, honey. And I have an MD, so you can trust me."

Gail giggled. "You're a doctor. Of science!"

Her wife giggled back. "Feel better?" When Gail nodded, Holly nodded and got up. "I'm going to put in my contacts and my earrings."

"I should probably put my pants on."

"Not for my behalf," teased Holly.

"You're not helping." Gail sighed and pulled on the rest of her uniform. By rote, she fixed her tie, clipped it with her twenty year clip, checked her stupid awards on her jacket, and swung it on. When she turned to get her hat, Gail saw Holly smiling at her. "What?"

Holly picked up the hat and held it out. "I love you in uniform. You know that, right?"

Blushing, Gail took the hat. "You're incredibly weird, Holly."

With a shrug, Holly fixed Gail's lapels, brushing off the pin from something or another. "Kiss me and let's go downstairs."

"If we must," Gail sighed, affecting a put upon look. But she kissed Holly, leaning in and savoring the soft, warm, pliant lips for a moment. The stress melted away for a moment as Holly's hands moved to her shoulders, holding her close. It wasn't super sexual, it was just a small moment of having someone in her personal space in a protective, welcome, way.

She felt Holly's lips curve and a second kiss was planted on the corner of her mouth. "I feel better," said Holly, quietly, her forehead bumping the rim of Gail's hat.

With a long, satisfying, exhale, Gail smiled. "I do, too. Can we just do this every time I get bitchy?"

Holly laughed a little and squeezed her arms. "Come on. I want to show you off to people so they can be totally jelly."

"Oh, don't say that. You're too old to say jelly."

"I am not," Holly huffed, indignantly.

They were still teasing each other about age as they headed out to the dance.

* * *

"Bonjour, Dr. Stewart. Your wife will be jealous."

Holly startled a little and turned to see a man she'd not lain eyes on in years. "Marcel!" She laughed and hugged the RCMP officer. "Gail would never be jealous of you, Inspector Savard."

The man tsked at her. "Superintendent. I could not let Gail have all the glory."

"Congratulations." She beamed. "Are you back in Ontario for good?"

"Oui. My in-laws are delighted." Marcel rolled his eyes. His husband had been less than thrilled when they'd moved back to Quebec for Marcel's career, as Holly recalled. "So who is that lovely young lady?"

Young lady? Holly was sure she'd misheard Marcel. His accent was quite pronounced, though not as thick as it had been two decades before. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"The woman? Who was hugging you?" He pointed over at where Vivian had wandered to.

And that was when it clicked. "Hugging... Marcel, that's my daughter," she laughed.

The man was stricken. "Vivian?" He blurted something in Québécois patois that Holly hadn't a chance of understanding. "A policier?"

"And a Peck. A lot changed in eight years," teased Holly.

Marcel made a face of indignation. "I remember the little girl who danced with me and Jeffrey."

"Where is your dear husband?" Unlike the rest of them, Jeffrey was an artist and had no interest in the police.

"I lost him an hour ago to the chanteuse." There had been a lovely singer earlier in the night. It was no surprise that she was being mobbed. "A Peck as well. Mon duei. She makes me feel old."

Holly snorted. "You are five years younger than Gail. I was your age when we adopted."

The childless Marcel looked thoughtful. "I may try that approach... Jeffrey has been adamant about no children."

"Don't push it," Holly cautioned. "It's not for everyone. And watching them grow up and move out hurts."

"Yet your daughter ..." He stopped. "Is she here for Gail? As a guest again?"

One thing Holly had always liked about Marcel was how sharp he was. "Have you ever met Jen Luck or Frankie Anderson?" When he made a face, Holly laughed. "Vivian's here because Gail thinks she'll be less embarrassing than those two. Also Viv skipped out last year."

"Ah! So she too... Well. That child is tres chanceux." He shook his head. "I am amazed."

"So am I," admitted Holly, and they laughed.

"You're really weird, Mom." Vivian held two glasses and a plate of snacks. "Hey, Superintendent Savard. Nice to see you again."

Holly took one glass. "How on earth did you know that?"

Impishly, Vivian gestured at the man's collar. "I can read his rank." To Marcel she added, "Elaine, Gail's mom, taught me."

"And how does Elaine, Gail's mom, feel about you as a police officer, young lady?"

"She thinks I'm naive, but she loves me." Vivian offered the glass. "Is Mom talking your ear off?"

"Thank you." Marcel grinned and took the glass. "I enjoy your mother's company. She's one of the smartest people I know."

Vivian laughed. "She's the smartest one I know." The younger officer tossed a whole canapé into her mouth.

Smiling, Marcel took a bite from Vivian's plate. "Is this your first attending on your own?"

"Yeah, Mom kinda made me promise. Last year Frankie got drunk and made out with some married woman."

Holly arched her eyebrows. "Who told you about that?"

"Frankie." Vivian shrugged. "She also said not to get loaded. And offered to introduce me to some, and I'm quoting here, 'hot chicks.' How has she not been a public disaster?"

"Gail keeps her off the news." Holly smirked. Most of their friends still treated Vivian like a niece, regardless of the girl's current position on the force. She was the kid for a horde of childless cops, from Andy and Nick down to, yes, even Frankie and Lisa.

Seeing Marcel at the gala made for a much nicer than expected night. Gail came to hide with them for a while, before being dragooned into her speech. After the speeches and dessert, Gail proposed they desert. Vivian offered to cover, since she wasn't going back to their place anyway. Which meant they had the place to themselves.

And that indeed made up for the tiff earlier in the night.

Holly smiled as she watched Gail come back to herself. The blonde's hair was stuck up and sweaty, her eyes were open but not really focused. It reminded her of the first time they'd had sex. Gail had lain there, catching her breath and only able to say that they were doing that again, and that men sucked.

"Good to know I'm not in the dog house," said Gail, her voice long and low and breathy.

"Never." She leaned in and kissed the corner of Gail's lips.

Gail hummed softly and reached up to brush Holly's hair back. "Sometimes."

"Not often." Holly kissed the other corner of Gail's lips. "Not often."

The soft, pale hands traced down her face and smoothed over her arms. "Will you watch me on the float?"

"Will you be in uniform?"

"White shirt and all."

Holly sighed happily. "You are incredibly hot in that uniform. Maybe you could wear it home?"

Her wife laughed, playfully shoving Holly off of her. "You have such a lady boner for me in uniform."

"You're hot! And powerful... I think it's more of a domination thing." Holly stretched out, letting her limbs reach their fullest extreme and then she settled into the blankets. "Not like a punishment thing, but I like when you're in charge. I mean, I like it when you..." She gestured with her hands above her, struggling for the right words.

"You mean you like it when I'm butch."

Holly squinted at Gail. "Shut up."

Gail smirked. "I think you're sexy in your lab coat." Sitting up, Gail stretched her arms up until there was a soft pop. "And in your baseball crap. And those tight jeans you still wear, because you're an asshole and you know I love how your butt looks in them." Gail turned to the side and looked at Holly, smirking. "Makes me want to wipe the smirk off your face in a fun way."

"Oh? What's a fun way?" Holly knew the answer, but she still smiled. No. She smirked.

She knew Gail knew she knew. And when Gail moved to sit on Holly's hips, smiling broadly, Holly was sure. And Gail was right. It was a fun way to have that silly, smirky, smug look wiped off her face.

* * *

It felt unromantic to be scrolling through her phone on a date, but it was a necessity. And besides, Jamie was doing it too. The brown haired firefighter frowned. "Okay, so this whole week is just a loss for you."

"And next week you're on?"

"Yeah. So .. Week after that? I'm on three, off two, on four, off five. So that could work."

"I thought my schedule was weird." Vivian sighed. "Yeah... Shit no. That Saturday is my uncle's retirement party."

Jamie grimaced. "I hate your job. Is that okay?"

"I hate yours, it's only fair." She smiled shyly at Jamie and was rewarded by a million watt grin. "So. Our schedules don't match up for a month?" How annoying. Vivian shoved her phone back into her pocket.

"August," Jamie lamented and picked up her coffee cup. "Maybe we can squeeze dinner or a movie or..." She suddenly blushed. "Okay, why is it awkward to have this conversation?"

It took Vivian a moment to catch on. "The sex one?" Jamie blushed more. "I'm not sure. It always is though." She wiped her toast through the last of her eggs and wondered how her parents had navigated that one. Knowing Gail, she probably got undressed and asked Holly why she was still wearing clothes. Vivian sighed. She'd never be as casual and smooth as Gail was.

Jamie huffed. "See this is why my dating life sucks. Sometimes I think I should take Ruby's advice and just drag you home."

"Ruby?" That wasn't what Vivian had wanted to say. She'd been thinking that Jamie wanted to have sex with her, and quite honestly it was mutual. But what came out was fixation on the name. Of course.

"My roommate and heterosexual life partner."

Vivian snorted a laugh. Her question had really been that Jamie talked to Ruby about them and sex. "Christian would say that."

"Is he your best friend?"

Hesitating, Vivian shrugged. "He'd say so. We're ... It's a weird story. But he's like a cousin." And Vivian wasn't sure if he was a best friend. She didn't confide in him like she had in Olivia, until that disastrous ending. No. The person who felt like a best friend had to be Matty. "My best friend lives in New York. He's in fashion."

Jamie grinned. "Good place for it. Ruby and I have been friends since forever." She laughed into a story about how a boy had licked Ruby's face, and Ruby had beaten him up, as much as an eight year old could. And Jamie had been in trouble as well for running in the halls and they became best friends. "So how'd you meet ... Um... What's his name?"

"Matty. Elementary school. I was the new kid and he... He's Matty." She shrugged and tapped a photo of the last time Matty had been in Canada. As a surprise, he'd come to her academy graduation. Someone had snapped the photo of Vivian laughing with an arm around Matty's shoulders.

"Aw, he's adorable."

"He's the sweetest guy," said Vivian, smiling.

Abruptly, Jamie changed the subject back. "I do want to sleep with you. I'm just... You know, my exes all think I'm crazy. I'm ..."

"Gun shy?" Vivian nodded. "I get it."

Relived, Jamie nodded back. "I just have a really bad track record. And I'm totally saying the stupidest things, aren't I? You don't want to hear all about my exes who dump me because I have a crazy job and weird hours and I'm too butch for them-"

Vivian reached over and covered Jamie's hand with one of hers. "Hey. It's okay." She watched Jamie bite her lip, adorably. "The last girl I slept with after the third date dumped me over text. I'm totally cool with the whole slow thing."

"Wow. Text?"

"Apparently I was the other woman." Vivian shrugged. No doubt, when Gail heard about the details, she'd hoot and laugh. Not at Vivian, but at the situation. Then again, Gail had slept with Nick on the first date, and Chris before they were really dating, and Holly... Well that was just odd all around. So Gail could shut up.

And besides, Vivian would have to explain to her mother that she was dating a firefighter. Technically this was their third date. And one could argue that they _could_ have squeezed in a quickie or something in the time they'd spent seeing a movie or having dinner.

Except they had roommates. Ruby and Christian were both at their respective homes right now. In fact, Christian had been pinging her for an hour, asking where the hell she was. Which was why Vivian ignored her phone ringing to listen to Jamie tell her about her last date, which ended with a comment about blue collar workers. It was funnier to Vivian, that was probably for certain.

"You gonna answer that?" Jamie gestured at the ringing from Vivian's pocket.

"It's just C. He probably can't find the coffee." But Vivian raised her wrist and looked at the watch face. Sgt. Andy. "Shit..." She shoved her free hand into her pocket and answered. "Peck."

"I'm not even going to ask why the hell you're not answering your phone. I need you to come in early and guard a church. Someone made death threats."

"Yes, ma'am. But... I'm parade detail tomorrow."

"It won't be all day. Just rotating you forward a half shift."

Stifling a sigh, Vivian nodded. At least she'd be off sooner and get some rest before the parade. "Right. I'll be at the station in... Uh. Twenty minutes."

Andy paused. "Oh. That's why Christian doesn't know where you are."

"I'm having breakfast, Sarge," said Vivian, in her best Peck deadpan. With a laugh, Andy told her to get in as soon as she could. "I'm sorry," Vivian told Jamie.

"Work happens... Your sergeant sounds awful personal."

"She's kind of my aunt. One of my mom's ... Um. Good friends." If she dared call Andy a best friend, no matter how true it was, Gail would flip her shit. Then Vivian realized she could shorthand in a way Jamie would totally understand. "They were rookies together."

With a soft 'ah,' Jamie smiled. She got it. "I'm going to get the story of you being a legacy out of you one of these days."

Digging out her wallet, Vivian rolled her eyes. "Its not very interesting. Pecks are cops. That's just how it goes."

"There has to be more. I bet your other mom, the doctor, wasn't super thrilled. I mean, hello, my mom's a teacher. She couldn't be more disappointed I like to run into burning buildings."

Vivian felt cheeky. "When you put it that way, it sounds real stupid." She put down cash for half the bill. "I'm sorry to dine and ditch."

"Hey, work calls when it calls. I'm gonna finish my coffee and go. Be safe out there."

"You too. Text me if you get any downtime?"

The smile from the firefighter made Vivian feel warm in all the best ways. "Emoji wars are on." There was an awkward moment and then they kissed, very quickly, and Vivian grinned and blushed.

Vivian was still grinning when she got to the church at Queen and Cowan. She knew St. Julian's Church a little. Gail had taken Vivian there as a teen a few times, for softball games and reach-out events. Which was why she knew the greying priest by name, and vice versa.

"Officer Peck," greeted the priest.

"Hey, Father Solaine. Pissing off homophobes again?"

He smile at her. "Saw the flag?"

The front of the church was adorned with a gay pride flag and a banner announcing they cared. "It's a nice flag. I liked the banner." She hooked her thumbs in her belt. "So how serious were the threats?"

Father Solaine rolled his eyes. "I didn't call. That was Monique. Just the usual death threats."

A young woman, about Vivian's age, snorted. "He dismisses everything."

Conspiratorially, Vivian replied, "He's always been like that. Even when they set things on fire."

"Hah! I know that story. You our guard?"

"Just here to scare off the simple folk." Vivian shrugged.

"And you're okay with a gay loving, former gang running priest?" It was clear that Monique was testing to see if Vivian would be trouble. Baiting her. It happened. Vivian sighed and tried to think of a reply that wouldn't be picking a fight.

Father Jean Pierre Solaine cleared his throat. "Monique. I've known Vivian for years."

The assistant's eyes widened. "Oh."

"Not like that," said Vivian. "Father Solaine's in tight with Fifteen."

"You used to help make the hot dogs at the softball games." The old priest looked wistful. "We're thinking of starting that up again. Think your mothers would come?"

If Monique hadn't heard the plural, she caught on by Vivian's reply. "Holly would. Gail might, but don't ask her to play. She ceded that duty last year."

"The perils of your profession." Father Solaine nodded, sagely. "I have some donuts and coffee."

"I love church coffee," Vivian said, in her best deadpan.

"You don't walk into a church voluntarily."

Arching her eyebrows, Vivian pointed out the obvious. "I was raised buy an atheist and an antichrist. I had no hope, Father. Just be happy the place doesn't burst into flames when I walk in."

"Well, as your mother's daughter, donuts are probably your national dish." He grinned and gestured to the table.

Sure, she'd rather be spending the day with her girlfriend, but as priests went, Father Solaine wasn't so bad.

* * *

"Do you have to be so ... Rough? You're manhandling me here, kid."

But her daughter ignored her complaints. "You get burned and I will never hear the end of it from Mom. And no offense? She scares me more."

Gail sighed and let Vivian coat her in sunblock. "I'm in long sleeves and a hat. Isn't that enough?" She was in her white shirt and uniform. Any time she was on the floats, she was in uniform. That was just how it went. Stupid cotton-poly blends.

"How red were you two years ago?"

"Shut up," growled Gail. "Let me get my face."

Vivian smirked and wiped her hands on Gail's cheeks. "Sure. Have fun!"

Gail was still cursing at her daughter three hours later as the parade finally started the last turn home. One more year in the bag. Tonight was a party at Lisa's. A new housewarming party for the place she and Kate had bought. They still weren't married. They were never going to get married at this point. But they had filled out a billion forms and papers to ensure they had all the legal rights. Finally, after twenty years, Gail conceded Holly had been right. Getting married was easier.

It still wasn't how Gail wanted to spend her night. A repeat of the night before would be nice. Certainly many things were preferable to suffering to the cacophony that these kids called music, dancing and probably doing drugs that Gail was better off not knowing about at all the stupid parties Vivian would patrol. And for that, yes, a night with BitchTits and Co. was an improvement. But hell, anything would be better than the stupid parade.

She regretted the thought much later, though Gail only told Holly.

It started with spotting a familiar pair of faces marching by her.

"Junior, why are you here?"

Her daughter looked up and smiled. "I'm supposed to keep Father Solaine out of trouble."

That was when Gail spotted the second face. "Hey, JP."

The older man laughed. "Inspector. Nice to see you again."

"Isn't your group supposed to be back by the marching bands?" She'd inadvertently memorized the layouts of the various groups.

It was Vivian who sighed dramatically. "We had to shuffle them. He picked a fight."

"Really, JP? Again?"

The priest shrugged. "They were saying unkind things and trying to cut in."

When Gail glanced at her daughter for explanation, Vivian nodded. "Homophobic church versus Father Soliane."

Gail smirked. "Winner and still champion? Who let the crazy Christians in anyway?"

"I can't keep 'em _out_ ," pointed out Vivian, practically. The Pride Parade had fought for inclusion a decade ago, saying anyone who showed up should be allowed to march. "They had acceptable signs right up until we passed the curve. Then, boom, lotta crazies."

"Oh see that's smart," said Gail. "Clever even."

Vivian rolled her eyes and tilted her head to her radio. "And they're spitting at people. Awesome. Father Solaine, can you _please_ stay here with the float?"

With an easy smile, the priest agreed. "It's very odd to have my own personal bodyguard," he told Gail.

"Better you than me. Next year, though, I'm getting her on the damn float and taking a year off."

"She's a good kid, you know."

Gail smiled and was about to tell Jean Pierre that her kid was awesome.

Instead, she looked past him and at the crowd.

It was years of policing that had her looking the right way at the right time. She felt something was wrong with a participant. A man, shorter than Jean Pierre, Caucasian, wearing a black hoodie and baggy gym shorts. He looked out of place. And then his hand moved. No, his arm moved. He stepped across the line and right up to the priest.

Three shots rang out.

Jean Pierre doubled over and fell to the ground.

The shooter ran.

Of all the times not to have her radio. Gail swore and scrambled off the float, pulling her phone out as she ran. "Call central," she shouted at the phone. It picked up on the first ring. "Central! 8727, 10-33, shots fired at the parade." She gave her location and skidded to a stop by the priest. He was still breathing.

"Gail! Can you ID the guy?" Vivian, dripping with sweat already, came up at a dead run.

Gail recited the description, for Vivian who relayed it on her radio, and central. Then she pointed. "He went through the crowd, up—"

"Got it!" And Vivian took off like the exercise junkie she was. "Dispatch, 4727 in pursuit."

But Gail didn't watch her daughter run. She carefully rolled Jean Pierre onto his back. "Damn it, JP."

Pressing her hands to the wound, Gail looked around the crowd. She wanted to shout for a tampon, to save the bastard's life like she had Marlo's. But as Gail felt the blood pool and seep through the knees of her uniform, she knew the reality of the day was that the priest was going to die.

"Not gonna make it," wheezed Jean Pierre.

"I'm really tired of people dying on me, priest." He laughed at her. "Tell me you saw him and know who the hell shot you."

Jean Pierre Solaine shook his head. "Sorry. Bandana."

He had a bandana? Gail hadn't seen that. Damn. "Just shut up for now, okay? A bus is coming. You're gonna be fine. MacLean's on today, and she's fucking awesome."

Even so, MacLean wasn't a god. By the time the scene was cleared and the ambulance showed up, the priest was dead.

* * *

She hugged Gail and Vivian close, not caring at all that there was still blood on Gail and Vivian was sweaty. "Mom," muttered Vivian.

"Hush," cautioned Gail.

Holly squeezed them closer. "Can you both please stop getting shot at?"

Gail hugged back. "No one shot at us, Holly."

Technically she knew that. Still. Shots were fired. Her wife and daughter had been in the vicinity. "You could have been hurt."

Giving in, Vivian hugged her back. "I have to go talk to Mac, Mom. Mom, stay here. Okay? I need your statement."

While Holly let go of Vivian but not Gail, the inspector grumbled. "I don't like being on this side of it."

"Yeah, well you're the only witness I trust, okay?" Vivian stepped back.

Holly took a long look at her daughter. Vivian was a little grimy and sweaty. There was visible salt lines on her collar and a smear of something on her face. "Drink some coconut water please."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I will. Promise." And the girl was off.

Gail sighed and kissed Holly's forehead. "I'm fine, Holly. You didn't need to come to the hospital."

Except she did. Holly and Rachel had been watching the parade from the safe comfort of Lisa and Kate's new condo. They'd waved at various people, Holly watching for Gail, when they heard the screams. Not the shots. Suddenly the cops were swarming over the place, ushering people out of the way and explaining the parade was being canceled due to an emergency.

That was when Holly saw a form she knew very well, running in a different direction. Never before had Holly seen Vivian run like a cop. There was something about the stance that shocked and sobered her. Vivian was chasing a perp. Someone had done something outright horrible.

Opening the private app the police department used, Holly had pulled up the reports and paled. A shooting. And the name Peck was all over it. But not Vivian. Inspector Peck was listed as being on scene and then being rushed by ambulance to the ER. The report was muddled, but at that point, Holly had run out the door telling everyone else to stay inside and she'd call them.

When she'd seen Gail, covered in blood, lying on a gurney, she'd panicked. The world had gone a little blurry on the edges and she'd pushed past nurses and doctors only to find Gail was just having her blood pressure taken. Then it was Holly was had to be helped to sit down and have her own vitals checked. Gail sat beside her, smiling, holding her hand and repeating over and over that she was fine, that it wasn't her blood.

A very grubby and perplexed Vivian had found them like that, leading to the massive family hug.

"I did," she told Gail. "I did have to come here."

"I know how much you hate the ER." Gail steered Holly to a bench and sat with her.

Refusing to let go completely, Holly gripped Gail's hand. "We need to talk to whomever dispatch assigns to writing the internal alerts. They said officer involved shooting and listed your name. And I knew you didn't have a gun."

Gail looked surprised. "Wow. Yeah, no no." She tugged at the collar of the scrub top. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine now," said Holly, her voice a mutter. "Scrubs aren't flattering by the way."

Her wife coughed a laugh. "Not my choice. They took my uniform." Holly laughed as well and leaned into Gail. Reflexively, an arm wrapped around her shoulders. "You okay? I'm gonna be stuck here until my statement."

Holly nodded. "It's okay." She closed her eyes. "I'm glad I'm not a real doctor."

"I knew you were faking it all these years," Gail said, teasing.

That was part of why it was easier. The teasing made it easier to smile and laugh at Gail. Easier to laugh at herself. "I mean a hospital doctor."

"Sure you did." Gail squeezed her for a moment.

They sat like that for a while, quiet. Gail hummed softly, her voice a soothing and comforting sound. Once, when Gail had struggled through a particularly rough week, Holly had woken up and found the cop singing to herself in the office. That had been years and years ago.

Never once had Holly mentioned it. They hadn't even been married at the time. She'd let Gail keep the pain private back then. Things were different now, though. And just like Gail's ways of dealing with her damage had evolved, so had Holly's. At first it was plain avoidance, keeping out of hospitals. Then she'd spent a week working in one, in part to keep her credentials up to date, but also to try and get over her fear.

Currently the truth was simple. Holly did not like hospitals. Her last mammogram had been a hoot, trying not to have a panic attack while having a cancer scare.

"What's going on in that big, sexy, brain of yours, Stewart?"

"I'm glad my boobs are alright."

Her wife barked a laugh. "Is that the last time we were here?" Three mammograms, an ultrasound, and a biopsy later, the result had been that Holly had a dense fibroid tumor, which they then removed. Benign. Normal. Nothing to worry about.

"Yeah," said Holly softly. "I didn't come when Vivian dislocated her shoulder."

Gail made a noise. "Oh right. When she fell off the ... Watcha call it?"

"Double Salmon Ladder."

"Right. That." Gail shook her head. "Before that it was her appendix. I think she was annoyed about that one."

"She was mad it was laparoscopic. She wanted the cool scar." Holly smirked. That time, Elaine had taken Vivian to the ER. They'd been up at the cabin, enjoying a midweek trip, when Elaine called to explain that their teenager called her because she was throwing up, had a fever, and pain on her right side, and Elaine had taken her the hospital, but could they okay surgery.

Gail hmmmed softly. "Thank god Mom was around. And I never thought I'd say that."

"She would have called Oliver. Or an ambulance. She's a smart cookie, our kid."

"Logical and calculating. She gets that from you."

Holly smiled. "Headstrong and brave. That's you." As soon as she said it, Holly realized something. Shooting or not, Gail would go back to the parade the next year. She sighed. "You're going to go back next year."

Gail hesitated. "Yes."

What was the first lesson she'd learned about loving Gail? Holly knew that Gail Peck was a brave, loyal, self-sacrificing hero. And it didn't matter how scared anyone was. If the right thing to do was to go back out there and stand up and be seen, then Gail did just that. Sometimes that meant Gail put the lives of other people in front of herself, and her wife, and their daughter.

Honestly, Holly detested that. She hated that Gail would put her and Vivian second. But at the same time, it was the first truth she'd accepted from Gail. While Gail called it a job, it was really her life. And Holly accepted that. She took this as Gail's life.

"Well. I'm coming with you next year." When Gail startled, Holly explained, "I can't freak out about what happens without me if I'm with you."

Gail grunted. "Stop being reasonable."

"Sorry," said Holly, smiling.

They didn't say anything else about it then. Vivian, looking a little cleaner, came back with two bottles of coconut water and one of Gatorade. The young officer then proceeded to take Gail's statement, writing everything down incredibly quickly, reading it back, and finally she told Holly to please take her wife home.

Holly did not argue authority when it was right, even if it came in the form of someone whom she used to harangue to shower. Bundling Gail into the car, Holly sighed. "Is that weird to you too? Viv being in charge?"

"A little." Gail buckled in. "Please take me home. This shit itches. How the hell did you wear scrubs through school?"

"We washed them first to break them in. She took notes fast."

"Well, she doesn't have an Elaine Peck trained memory." Gail yawned. "Her handwriting is shit, though."

"She was writing shorthand." Holly eyed her wife. "Wait. You don't know shorthand? I know something you don't?"

"Holly, you know a lot of things I don't."

"Medical doesn't count!" Holly laughed.

Gail rolled her eyes. "Okay, how did you recognize it?"

"Lisa used to take notes in it. Taught me and Rachel on spring break."

"And now I know how nerds spend spring break," said Gail, teasing.

"Remind me why I was worried about you?" She knew Gail was just deflecting and being her antagonistic self because she was still a little on edge. It was much better than when Gail was actually shot at, but dealing with people dying in front of you was never easy.

Smiling, Gail reached over and put a hand on Holly's thigh. "I'm okay, Holly. A little wired. I know we're supposed to have that party at Lisa and Kate's tonight, but can we pass?"

"I already called and canceled," assured Holly. "When you were talking to John." Not that Lisa had questioned the change in plans. She'd seen Holly bolt out and had only asked if the bitchy cop was okay. As antagonistic as Gail and Lisa could be, they were friends now.

"Thank god. Have I mentioned I love you?"

"Not in the last couple hours, no." Holly smiled at her wife. "You okay?"

Gail was quiet for a moment. "No. I'm gonna call the doctor, though. See if I can get in this week or next." From experience, they both knew if Gail said the magic words "work related" than the therapist's office would move heaven and earth to get her in.

"That sounds good," said Holly, decisively.

Closing her eyes, Gail leaned back in her seat. Holly knew that meant she wanted to be quiet for a while, and that was okay. This wasn't avoidance, it was just Gail processing everything. Avoidance Gail shut down and ignored everything. Contemplative and processing Gail would talk and ask questions, but also lapse into that comfortable quiet that Holly had always loved.

At home, Gail went for the shower first, declaring a need to get the last bit of blood off her. Holly gave her space and went downstairs to try and figure out dinner. As she stared into the fridge, the garage door opening startled her. "What the hell?" Holly closed the fridge and listened to the unmistakable sound of her daughter's motorcycle.

A moment later, Vivian opened the door from the garage. "Oh thank god you have the AC on. It's hot as balls out there."

Holly stared at the young woman. "How would you know?"

"Theoretically." She stuck her tongue out. "Here, take this." She held out a grocery bag.

"What… what is this?" Holly did take the bag and look in. Fresh vegetables, some hunks of meat.

Pulling off her riding jacket with a whoof, Vivian pushed her sweat damp hair out of her face. "Grilling food. I can make some grill bread too. Mom likes that."

"No, I know what the food is, you idiot. Why is it, and you, here?"

Vivian stared at her. "Because today sucked and you're _probably_ not going to spend all night screwing, so I thought I'd make you guys dinner and hang out and make it more normal." She paused and added, "If you want, I can stay tonight." Vivian looked thoughtful and tentative.

It took Holly a moment to catch up to the question. The young Peck was not asking for her own sake but for Holly's. Or maybe Gail's. "I think we're okay, honey."

Vivian nodded. "Well I'm staying for dinner."

"That was a given," said Holly, smiling. "Thank you."

"Hey, just because I moved out doesn't mean I won't drop everything for you."

Holly sighed. "I'm going to hug you, okay?"

"Sure." Vivian put her phone down and not only let Holly hug her without protest, but she wrapped her long arms around and squeezed her tightly. "Mom, I love you."

Sighing, Holly leaned into her daughter. "When did you become the grownup?"

"You're just comparing me to mom."

Holly laughed and kissed Vivian's forehead. "Probably true."

Somewhat seriously, though, Vivian went on. "Sometimes it's okay for you not to be the grownup all the time, Mom. It's ... We're family, right? Let me help." Holly stared at her daughter, surprised and a little misty eyed. "Go check on Mom. She's probably having one of those 'I'm not the one shot' things. Hide the scissors. I'll take care of food and we can watch a stupid movie or something."

Giving Vivian one last squeeze, Holly went back up the stairs. She found Gail, dressed in sweats, pulling on some socks. "Is that the kid?"

"Yeah, she's going to grill and wants to watch a movie."

Gail grunted. "How the hell did we luck out?"

"I think karma owed us." Holly smiled and held out her hands. "Come on. Let's be a normal family for a couple hours."

"Do you even know how to do normal, Stewart?" But Gail smiled and went downstairs.

Normal. For one night.

* * *

"It's sweet that you're taking care of your parents."

"Really? You're not just saying that and planning to dump me later?"

Jamie laughed over the phone. "No. I think it's nice. You love your parents and you're not ashamed to say it. Meanwhile I love mine, but I think it's more mutual tolerance, helped by an hour drive."

With a smile, Vivian stretched out over her bed and looked up at the ceiling. She did love her old bedroom still, even if it felt a bit weird to be back there. There was a creak outside her room. "I do. They're pretty awesome. Hang on a second." Vivian tapped mute. "Mom, go to bed."

Her door opened and Holly's head poked in. "You sure you want to stay?"

"Mom, come on."

Holly saw the phone and arched her eyebrows. "Sorry."

"It's cool. And yes, I'm sure I want to stay tonight."

Her mother smiled. "Okay. Gail would say thank you, but she fell asleep."

That was a relief. Vivian sat up. "Good. Go sleep with her, Mom. She sleeps better with you."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Love you, kid. Night. Tell Matty I say hi."

"Love you too, Mom." She waited for the door to close before tapping un-mute. "Sorry. Mom's being hovering. And since Mom- Gail- went to sleep, she's hovering over me."

"That makes sense, kinda. But you know… They are adults."

Vivian hesitated. "Yeah. Mom's just been a cop forever, though. And … "

Wisely, Jamie suggested, "And cops don't sleep well? I get it. But… Just remember we're the kids, okay?"

An interesting comment. "That for me or yourself?"

"Oh. Both." Jamie sighed. "Do your parents ever listen to the oldies?"

"Jazz mostly. Why?"

"My dad _loves_ Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. Like, has every single album. In record format."

Vivian laughed softly. "Wow. Gail's got 'em in MP3s. I made her a media server for the house."

"Lucky. I can't computer like that," giggled Jamie.

"So. What about the old guys?"

"Oh! Right, so there's this song, 'Teach Your Children,' I've heard it a million times. And there's a line that goes like this. Teach your children well, their father's hell did slowly go by."

When Jamie didn't finish the song, Vivian snorted. "Cheerful. And I'll have you know I do know that song. You forgot the second verse."

"What?"

"That's the one that tells you to help your parents with your youth and to teach your parents well. Feed them on your dreams."

Jamie was quiet for a bit. "See that upsets the whole parent/child dynamic. The responsibility isn't supposed to be the kid's."

"Yeah, gotta disagree. Family is a shared thing."

The firefighter made a noise. "Okay, fine. I'll buy that one. And on that strange note, I'm going to sleep."

"I should too," admitted Vivian. "Night."

"I'll text you tomorrow before shift. Good night."

Vivian hung up and sighed, putting the phone on her stomach. Even if she'd been home, it wasn't like she was going to be sleeping with Jamie. Girlfriend? Maybe. She stared at the ceiling and the galaxy she and Brian had painted for one of her birthdays. It was fairly accurate too. They'd projected actual photos from the cottage onto the ceiling and painted over it. She smiled and tossed her phone onto the charging mat. Closing her eyes to her glow in the dark ceiling, Vivian drifted off to the comfortable sounds of the house of her childhood.

When Gail stepped on the loose board in the hall, Vivian woke up like she always did. The sounds of the house were so familiar and normal. She waited a while before rolling out of bed and making her way down to the living room. Nothing needed to be said. Gail pushed a controller over, Vivian spun up Bowser, and they played quietly in the summer dawn.

Around six, Gail finally spoke. "What time is your shift?"

"Eight. And I have my uniform so I can go from here." Gail nodded, throwing a bomb at Vivian. "Damn it, Mom!"

While Gail giggled like a child, Holly's voice came down the stairs. "I don't know what else I expect from you two."

"She used the bomb!"

A warm hand gently shoved her head, and then Gail's. "I take back what I said about you being an adult." Holly sighed. "And you all want coffee."

"Please," said Gail and Vivian as one.

Vivian was the only one to go into work that day. Obviously Gail was off because of the shooting, and Holly took a day off for sanity. That would of course turn into Holly working from home, like she did, because Holly felt guilty. But that was Holly. She cared a great deal.

At the precinct, Vivian was waylaid by Andy as soon as she got in. "Peck, my office. Now."

Inside was Frankie, looking a little more relaxed than Vivian would have expected. The detective spoke first. "How's Gail?"

"Fine," said Vivian, looking at Frankie and then Andy.

Andy shook her head. "Don't bother, Frankie. She won't give you details. She's the anti-Steve."

Frankie sighed. "Fine. How far did you chase that kid?"

"I lost him at the drag queen stage, so ... Three blocks?"

The detective nodded and held a tablet up. Vivian took it and skimmed the report. "We found the gun last night. Or two drunk boys found the gun. Ballistics are a match."

"Damn, that's lucky." Vivian looked at the report. "So we just have to find the guy?" As if it was that easy.

"Yes but that isn't why you're here." Frankie perched on Andy's desk. "You were at the church two days ago and the parade yesterday. Do you remember anything?"

Vivian handed the tablet back and looked down to think. "No one showed up at the church on my shift. I didn't see anything at the parade, but I got distracted by the anti-gay protesters."

"All the witnesses have the guy coming from their direction. Do you think he was with them?" Frankie was calm.

Sometimes Vivian forgot Frankie was a great detective. She knew the woman better as the kind of slutty friend of her parents, who once dated Lisa back before Vivian was adopted. And Frankie was the woman who took her shopping a couple times, helping Vivian sort out her own style. Shopping trips with Frankie and Chloe was always an adventure. Vivian was always certain that Frankie was six seconds from killing or kissing Chloe, and never quite sure which.

That thought she kept private. It was never voiced, except to her mothers whom she told everything.

"No," said Vivian slowly, thinking hard about the day. "If he'd been with them, he would have been dressed like the protesters. They all had on the same t-shirt. He had a pullover hoodie." She looked up at Frankie. "He ditched the hoodie at the drag show. Cindy Sarcasm said he had on a blue pride shirt, and she only noticed because he hit her with the sweatshirt."

Andy laughed. "Cindy Sarcasm?"

"Aka Alan Amaral," said Frankie. "He's a popular drag performer. Headlines at the Lucky Richard."

"I'm going to regret asking." Andy sighed. "Lucky Richard?"

"Richard. Rick. Dick. Lucky Dick..." Frankie smirked and Andy looked a little appalled. "You should get out more."

"To drag clubs?"

Vivian grinned. "She went to the Flipside, you know. With Chloe for her bachelorette party."

Frankie nodded. "You didn't go?"

"I babysat, being underage and all." Vivian knew Frankie knew that, but it was fun to see her wince at the reminder. "Did they get any useful DNA?"

"No," said Frankie with a sigh. "Nothing to compare it to. If we get him, though."

Vivian nodded. "So...? I'm benched because he might recognize me?"

"Not entirely. You and Fuller are going to go check out the church video footage and recordings from the parade."

She didn't bother to disguise her sigh. Christian had pulled the shift after hers at the church. "See if we can spot the guy, right." Vivian stepped back, ready to leave, when Andy held up a hand.

"Viv. This is me asking as Gail's friend. Is she really okay?"

Hesitantly, Vivian looked from Andy to Frankie and then back. She chewed her lower lip for a moment and then sighed. "Okay... As Gail's daughter, I'm not comfortable talking about my moms like this." Her mother's nightmares were not Andy's business. "She's at home. Call her. Or stop by with donuts."

There was a heartbeat and then Frankie started laughing. "Kid's got you there!" She swatted Vivian's arm. "Go change and get to parade, Peck."

Vivian smirked and got all the way to her locker before her phone pinged.

_Do u have Mac_ _'_ _s number_

She stared at the message and the name. Then she smirked and tapped in a message to a different number.

_Apparently Det. Anderson from yesterday wants your digits. Still single?_

The reply from Mackenzie MacLean came hours later, well into video hell, asking for a picture of the detective. Once Vivian sent it, there was a thumbs up emoji.

If she couldn't solve a crime, at least she could get Frankie laid.

* * *

"No luck on the shooter?" Vivian shook her head and Gail watched her daughter fix her tie. "Well. This may just be an unanswered mystery."

"I hate those, Mom," complained her daughter.

"We all do. Your mother more than most."

Vivian sighed and then looked at her watch. "Is it frustrating? I mean, more frustrating when you know the people?"

Gail sighed and picked at her own tie. "Yes. Yes it is. It's harder if you know them really well. And if you like them." The hardest had been Chris, hands down. Not a single death, before or since, had wrecked her like that. Weeks later, she wondered if she'd made the wrong choice. Maybe if she'd gone to Jerry's funeral that feeling would be different, but probably not. Jerry wasn't her fault. Chris was her decision. She understood the difference. "You don't have to go out there, you know."

Her daughter frowned. "I'm hoping the killer shows up."

Snorting a laugh, Gail shook her head. "Not likely, kid."

"I know. I know." Leaning on the desk, Vivian sighed. "It annoys me more than the arson, killing Father Solaine. It's just a dick move. I mean, he's a priest."

"JP was pretty cool." Gail glanced at her watch. "Okay, let's go. Please stop putting your hands in your pockets."

They walked out of the back office and to the waiting room of the church. A few other police officers were scattered around. A few familiar faces in the civilians too. Vivian went to talk to one of the volunteers, a girl her age she'd apparently met before. Right away she put her hands in her pockets and Gail groaned.

A woman laughed behind her. "Wow, she really is your kid."

Gail scowled. "I never stood like that." The taller Peck was slightly hunched forward, in a vain attempt to lessen her height. With shoes on, Vivian was over six-two. Maybe she was trying to minimize her presence, to seem less foreboding.

"Did too. That was your 'you can trust me, I'm a cop' stance. You did it at the station."

That was probably true. "You lean back for that one." There was a psychology to it as well. Leaning back made people feel like you opened up to them. "Speaking of... I'm a cop, won't hanging with me blow your cover?"

"Everyone here doesn't care. Besides, I'm long in the tooth for the skeleton business."

Gail looked at Jordan Lewis a little sadly. If Gail was fifty, which she sadly was a year over, then Jordan was nearing forty. "Thinking of retiring? Going straight?"

The former gang member shrugged. "I got a steady now."

"You think it can pay the rent on its own?" As a criminal informant, Gail slipped Jordan enough to make ends meet quite regularly.

"Yeah. Yeah, working as the super for the new buildings down the street. Keep the kids clean and the asshats away." She shrugged again. "Don't mean I won't slip you a note now and then, but... I'm too old to be cool, Peck."

Now Gail laughed. "Crap, I think that every day I watch that one."

They both looked at Vivian, listening sincerely to some little old woman. "Shoulda done that when I had a chance." Jordan sounded a little sad. "Course I woulda screwed mine up more than yours."

"She came that way," Gail replied. And then she looked at Jordan thoughtfully. "You know that offer still stands. You need anything, you call. Even now."

Jordan nodded. "You ever retiring?"

"Me? Maybe. My gang's a little harder to leave."

"Least you call it what it is."

Gail smiled. "No point in lying to myself about it." She sighed. "So hey. The new priest here. Is he cool?"

"Eh. He's okay. Young." Jordan shook her head. "It's like the day I found out all the starting players on the Jays were younger than I am."

"Yeah, sorry, that's my wife's thing." She grinned though. The whole time she'd known Holly, that had been a complaint. The doctor had not appreciated being older than everyone on the team. She seethed when elected officials started to be younger as well. At least, Holly had noted, her boss would never be younger.

"See, Peck. That- that's weird. You're married. And a lesbian."

"At least one in ten people identifies as not exclusively heterosexual," Gail said with a sigh. The number was hard to measure, which she understood.

Jordan shrugged. "I just mean because you hate people."

"Oh, well that's true." She chuckled. "But... My wife's not people." Holly was a very odd exception to her rule.

"I can get that." Jordan looked at the coffin. "He was a good guy."

Gail followed the look. "How many people wanted him dead, though?"

"Curtis' guys are pretty much all gone. The ones left lit out when you'd took down Three Rivers." Jordan grinned. "Saw you on the news."

"God help me," muttered Gail. "Look. You want out, and I get that. But if you can listen out for anything that might help us catch the son of a bitch..."

Jordan nodded. "Call you. Got it."

Sadly, Gail doubted it would become anything. It was too much to expect Jordan to have all the answers, just because it was vaguely related to her old stomping grounds.

* * *

Holly wanted to dance. "Okay. So I put the parameters in and ... How long does it take?"

The printer tech, a boy about her daughter's age, eyed her. "Lady- sorry, Doctor, I've never touched anything like this before."

She understood that, but Holly was too excited. "Okay, because it took a half day to print a jawbone back in 2012. And we've reconstructed skulls, and I made a partial, and a quarter sized, but that wasn't structural mimicking —"

"Doc," sighed the boy. "I've done all that. Hell, I rebuilt that cop's kneecap. But this is not normal."

"How so? You take the data and print the bone."

"Yeah, but usually we have a sample to measure." He shook his head. "You reverse engineered the .. the knobby bits-"

"Condyles."

"Sure, condyles. You didn't even have impressions! You just ... How the hell did you do it?"

It had been a piece of work, Holly had to admit. "I used the X-rays and MRI scans." She'd used the scans going back over fifty years, the handwritten notes of MEs from the days where procedure was more of a suggestion, and she'd managed to piece together an idea of what the bones must have looked like. Four bones. "That one... We have an exemplar, actually."

Because the bone she was building was Bethany Mills' missing femur. And she was building it based on her own design.

"Oh. Okay." The man tapped the controls. "Okay. Give it about four hours. I'll keep an eye on it."

Holly rocked on her heels. "Can I watch?" The young man stared at her. She was aware she looked and sounded like a child, but it had been years to get the 3D printer in the lab. "I know it's totally silly and I'm a grown adult. I mean, hi, my daughter is your age. But I've always wanted one and we never had the budget because it's a toy." Holly rolled her eyes. "And finally we got this one, and it's new! It's not even me sending a request to St. Pats, which I only get in quickly because the head of plastics is my best friend or I have a warrant and-"

"Oh my god," groaned the young man. "It's your machine! You can sleep here if you want."

Bouncing on her toes, Holly ran over. "Oh no, Gail would get mad."

"Gail? Who's that? Your dog?"

"Mm. Wife. She's more like a cat." Holly pushed her glasses up and leaned over to watch the bone slowly build itself, layer by layer. "Wow."

The kid shook his head and pulled out a tablet. "No one believes my job. I keep telling them that the doctors are the biggest nerds."

Holly ignored him and watched the bone build itself until her watch reminded her of a meeting. Budgets. Ugh. "We get you for the week?"

"Yes, ma'am. And hands on support for three months, and phone for the year. After that, the contract has to be renewed."

A year. She had a year to make this worth the money and prove they should keep it. Already she had ideas of casting faces. The lab could use it for making weapons, of course, and she hoped they'd have a good stabbing soon.

She paused and pulled her phone out.

_Do you ever think I_ _'_ _m too morbid?_

Gail's reply came only after the budget meeting.

_Depends on if you_ _'_ _re planning on killing me or someone else._

Holly grinned.

_We got the 3D printer._

Her wife replied with bone emoji. Then Gail asked if Holly was hoping for a stabbing so she could use it to prove a weapon was the culprit. It was very nice that Gail knew her so well. Someone who could tease her about her obsessions and hobbies. It was why she'd married Gail.

No. She married Gail for a million things. The humor and the wit, of course. Also the brain and beauty. Everything. She married Gail for the way she got shy when trying to express her feelings. She married for the sleepy smile after Gail woke up and the innocent way she slept. Holly loved the way Gail sang and danced, the joie de vivre with which she embraced life, the horrible sense of humor, the morbid behavior, and, yes, the sociopathic bits too.

Holly sent Gail a heart and smiled. She knew her wife would approve of Holly's delight and desire to play with her new toy.

"Hey, boss! Got a second?" Ben from field forensics waved. "It's the Solaine murder."

That got her attention. "Something new?"

"Something weird. The parade goes through downtown and his parish is Queen and Cowan."

Holly, not blessed with Gail's ability to make a mental map of the city, nodded. She accepted Ben's statements as important, without being able to make that connection. "And?"

"And the hoodie the shooter dropped, other than the glitter from hitting the drag queen in the face, has no traces of either."

"None? Was it a new sweatshirt?"

"I'm thinking so."

Looking down, Holly thought that through. A new t-shirt, it was that year's pride shirt, and a new hoodie. That was a design to disappear in the right crowd. "Where were they from?"

"Ah, that is the cool thing. They have the same particle trace from shitty shelving. Plastic coating from that faux wood stuff they banned back in 2020 for causing cancer in labs."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Yes, because I'm likely to inhale, what, 3000 times the average lifetime amount." She remembered the study because Gail had read it during a bout of insomnia and demanded to know if that was how they tested all of that kind of thing. "Too bad we can't do a database search on that…" Holly stopped. "Actually wait. Det. Anderson can get a list of all the authorized vendors for the pride shirts and cross reference that with everyone who sells black hoodies. Then we can send out minions to collect samples, find out who might have sold the shirt. AV can trawl the videos for anyone who bought them together."

Ben looked surprised. "Because they both have the trace on the inside, so it can't just be transfer. Which means the odds of them being sold together is… Right. Okay, I'll call Det. Anderson."

As Ben turned back to his lab, Holly asked, "What about the trace from the gun?"

"Oh, it's negligible. He tossed it in the trash, so it's contaminated all to fuck and back." Ben sighed. "Win some, lose some. I'd rather catch 'em on their shopping habits, personally."

Holly grinned. "Stand back. We're going to try science!"

* * *

One day Vivian would figure out how Gail managed to get them not to run.

They always ran.

After spending most of a few days stuck in the AV lab going over videos, she'd been thrilled to be told to work with Frankie on the case. And then she spent an hour in a car with Frankie and remembered why Gail generally called Frankie a 'cheap knock off' of herself. It was a snapshot of what the angry, isolated, immature Gail Peck might have been had she not found Holly and grown up.

That wasn't really fair to Frankie. She was an amazingly smart detective. She was just socially stunted. Having met Frankie's parents, Vivian kind of got it. Where the Pecks had just shunned Gail, the Andersons had disowned their wayward daughter. Twice. First for going to the academy and being a cop, second for being a lesbian. It was hard to say which was worse, if Vivian was being honest.

Things like that made Vivian inclined to like Frankie, though it did not make her stop teasing the older detective. The flip side to that was Frankie was totally free and comfortable to ask Vivian about how she should text Mac.

Initially, Vivian protested that the conversation was totally inappropriate for the situation. Eventually, Frankie wore her down and they spent the driving time discussing the proper way to text a girl to get a phone call to get a date. Not that Vivian was really an expert at those things. She was more modern-tech savvy than Frankie was, though, which meant she was the go-to person in the extended family for these things.

Family.

No denying it, not that Vivian would want to, but her family included a ton of cops, some weird doctors, artists like Izzy Shaw, and a host of other crazy people. And she wouldn't have it any other way. Even when it meant arguing with Frankie about girls. And had Frankie known that Lisa and Mac went out once, back when Vivian had been a pre-teen? And had Vivian known Frankie went out with Lisa once, before Gail and Holly were married?

Which was what they'd been doing as they walked into shop after shop. Not that Holly's lab hadn't given them a lot of information, but going to each store to look at their shelves was tedious. The reason that Frankie was there was to double up and talk to the owners about sales. The reason Vivian was with her was to let her take samples.

As always, it was in the last place they looked. More than once, Vivian had remarked on how dumb that was. Of course keys were in the last place one looked. Who would possibly keep looking? It was a stupid thing to say. But the last store they looked in, Vivian made her way to the shelves while Frankie talked about sales and access to them. Four of the stores had requested warrants, and from the sound of it, this one would too.

Vivian had sighed deeply and gotten out the kit. She was top of her class when it came to collecting evidence, but not because of Holly's influence directly. Vivian was out and out terrified of embarrassing Holly as much as she was of her Peck name. Pecks were an institution, but Holly had built a name for herself as a brilliant forensics expert. And Vivian was the only daughter of that name.

She'd been carefully swabbing and dusting when she noticed the stock boy to the side. He had asked what she was doing, in a sort of tense tone. She'd replied that she was sampling exemplars. When he was silent, she'd carried on and tucked her samples away, labeled neatly like Holly would do. Then she'd actually looked at him, intending to see how the worker was stocking shirts.

Their eyes met and he paled.

And ran.

Which was why Vivian was running after the idiot.

This time, he didn't have the ability to hide in the crowd. The pride events were days over, packed up and away. In the middle of the week, not much was going on at this hour besides the normal crowds. What people were on the street were smart enough to get to the side as Vivian thundered after the kid, gaining on him easily with her long legs and loping strides.

He toppled over a trash can into her path and Vivian cleared it easily. Then he topped over a newspaper machine (who the hell used those anyway?) which she also leapt over with ease.

"Come on, kid, you're not gonna get away!"

She could try to get in front of him. She could try to herd him to where dispatch had told her a squad was. She could try at talk him down. That wasn't her forte. Talking people down was hard. People were hard. Machines were easy. People were idiots. No... She almost laughed at her own idea and thumbed her radio as she rounded the corner.

"Dispatch, 4727. Can someone call this idiot's phone?"

It took a half block, but Dispatch laughed a reply. "4727. Copy, Anderson will make the call."

Vivian slowed a half step. The moment the kid's phone rang, he tripped. Alas, he recovered. And then, he actually answered. As he held the phone to his ear, he froze, tripped over his own feet, and fell face first into the street.

It took Vivian four strides to catch up and grab his arm. "You're an idiot," she informed him, hauling his arm around and cuffing him, reading his rights.

The idiot kid, Eivan Carmichael, complained the entire drive back. He wasn't allowed to clean up from his fall, even though he wasn't bleeding. He wanted his one phone call, even though that wasn't at all how it worked. He didn't like being in the car. He didn't line being in the back seat. And by the way, he didn't do anything wrong.

He kept complaining as they tossed him in interrogation. "Jesus, I can't stand patrol," muttered Frankie.

"They usually aren't chatty." Vivian felt obliged to point that out. "What did you say to him on the phone?"

"Police, freeze." Frankie shrugged. "Okay. Has he asked for a lawyer?"

"Nope."

"So he's an idiot."

Vivian grinned. "He said he didn't do it."

Frankie rolled her eyes. "His DNA matches the sweatshirt he threw."

"Which he can swear we planted."

"We have a witness."

"Who is not super reliable."

Frankie sighed. "And Cindy was seen at no less than four parties the night before." She shook her head. "Right. Come on and stand in a corner, looming."

"I can do that." She followed Frankie in and watched the boy finally clam up. "Thanks, Hanford," Vivian said to Rich, softly. Her classmate nodded and let himself out, looking relived. Ever since four men had died in custody, in interrogation rooms, they'd been forced to put guards in the room.

It was not a popular detail.

Vivian took her post as Frankie sat down. Normally she tried to downplay her stature. It had a tendency to be daunting, especially to kids or criminals. That said, there was a good point to it. She knew that in the uniform, standing to her full height, and putting on a stern mien like Elaine was good at, Vivian could be downright intimidating. And that's what she gave Eivan.

"So." Frankie sighed. "Here's the thing, kid. You ever watch those crime shows? Where someone sends it to the lab and Grissom or Brennan or whatever does magic and says they can pinpoint the store where the evidence was bought? Well, that's bull. Bull. But." Frankie tapped on her tablet. "This is the results from the sample we took at your store. And this is what we found in the sweatshirt."

Eivan looked over at Vivian and then back at Frankie. "We sell a lot of that."

"You do. You do. Not so much in summer. And, funny thing about summer, you sweat. Which means, Eivan, you left DNA on the sweatshirt. The armpits." Frankie leaned forward. "You don't try out the merchandise and then put it back on the shelves, do you?"

It was an obvious out. And they already knew Eivan was a simpleton. "Gross! No way!"

Frankie nodded. "So the only way for your DNA to get on there, Eivan, was if you wore it. On a hot day. And sweated." She shook her head. "Trace from you, the store, and the gun. Problem is, I got no idea why you did something this dumb."

Eivan clammed up. "Don't matter. If I did it."

Arching her eyebrows, Vivian was surprised at that comment. It didn't matter? Killing a person didn't matter? How bizarre was that? Frankie seemed to share this sentiment. "Doesn't matter. Killing a man doesn't matter?" The detective leaned back.

"Don't matter for me. Didn't do it."

"But a man died, Eivan. Don't you care?"

"Why should I? People die all the time."

"Yeah? Even priests?"

The kid shrugged. "Priests die too."

Frankie countered, calmly. "They don't all get shot at a pride parade."

The kid shrugged, again. "Cool parade. We make great sales that day. Good tips. And queers are good business."

Something in the way he said it made Frankie sit up. "You worked that day?"

"Nah, I like the dancing. Chicks like a man who's sensitive to gays and that crap."

The back of Vivian's brain was having hysterics. What would Eivan say if he knew the two police officers in the room were gay. Thankfully Frankie was much more calm about it. "I've heard that. What about drag queens? Ever catch the shows?"

Eivan nodded. "Sure, sure. The Orgasmic Special was last week."

"Right! Right, staring... Hey, Peck, who stars in the Orgasmic?"

Tilting her head a little, Vivian wondered where the question was going. "Bobbi Bolloxed and her Beautiful Belly Dancers was the headliner." You couldn't really call it belly dancing. It was more an excuse to waggle about in skimpy clothes and parade bodies that tended to make Vivian self conscious about her own.

"Nah, nah, the emcee."

Oh. Oh! "Cindy Sarcastic."

The look on Eivan's face went from ignorant to shocked. So. It looked like he knew who he'd run into. "So?" He tried to play dumb. Dumber.

The tension in the room broke when the door opened. "Uh, Detective?" Jenny looked nervous. "There's ... There's something you should look at."

Frankie arched her eyebrows. "Now?" When Jenny nodded, enthusiastically, Frankie stood up. "Peck, stay here."

They left and Eivan eyed Vivian curiously. "What was that about?"

"Dunno," she said, honestly.

A moment later, the door opened again. Jenny jerked her head and Vivian. "Anderson wants to see you."

Okay. That was weird. She left Jenny in the room and walked to the viewing room. "Ma'am?"

Frankie was about to laugh. "Can you read DNA results?"

"Um. Yes." Vivian took the file and skimmed it. Then she blinked and re-read it. "How ... Why did they run it against _that_ sample!?"

"They didn't. Apparently when they checked to see if he was in the system, it pulled up a familial. Dunno why it took forever, though."

Vivian did. "It's a cousin or a nephew. Sister's son, maybe. The number of shared alleles -" She stopped and looked at Frankie. "Look, some families disassemble guns for fun, some try to identify short tandem repeats. Some do both." Rolling her eyes, she handed the file back.

"You, Peck, are a nerd." Frankie sighed. "Curtis Payne's family. Ain't that a kicker."

It was miles of coincidence. "So you're calling this revenge?"

"For now. I'm gonna go scare his pants off with the DNA shit, see if he breaks. If not, I'll call his folks in. Nothing scares a bravado boy more than his mommy."

* * *

Pulling the chicken out of the oven, Gail put it on the counter to cool just as Holly got home. "Hey, babe. Got your bones?"

There was a pause and a muttered curse. "First three casts don't meet my specs," said Holly, and she stomped up the steps.

"Glad to see we're all having a banner day," Gail said to herself, and set the table. Her daughter, when asked if she was coming by for dinner, made a strange excuse of having something else planned. Her wife was clearly in a mood. And Gail? Well. The murder of Father JP was looking like it would end frustratingly.

By the time Holly came back downstairs, she seemed calmer. "Sorry." The doctor picked up the bottle of wine off the table and started to open it. "Apparently we're going to have to play with the parameters more. There was too much twist in the first one, and the second was the one I tried by mirroring the bone we had, but it didn't fit right unless she was knock kneed, which John said she wasn't."

"Well. Isn't science all about testing and evaluating and refining?"

Holly squinted at her. "Yes. I was just hoping I'd get it all right a little faster."

Smiling, Gail lifted the lid off the pot. "You will."

"You are always so confident of me."

"I've seen you win an international award for inventing a new way to process bones, letting you visualize fractures in a non-destructive method." Gail shrugged. "You're kinda of awesome, Stewart. Accept it."

The doctor smiled, embarrassed. "I'm in the trough of frustration about this one, right now. I can't get what's in my head out."

"Wanna try making a model with Viv's legos again?"

Holly laughed. They'd once reconstructed a crime scene that way. "Didn't we use Han Solo as the murderer?"

"Yeah, and Akbar was the vic." Gail smirked. "Think creatively."

"I just don't want them to take my printer away," said Holly, whinging. "I have to make it worthwhile in the quarter."

"You will," said Gail firmly. "I know you will."

Her wife shook her head and poured two glasses of wine. "You're in a somewhat more optimistic mood than normal. Does that mean you caught the killer?"

"Hmm. Frankie did. He still won't tell us why he did it."

Holly looked surprised. "Wait. You caught him, you have my awesome lab's DNA proving he did it, and you're stuck on _why_?"

Morose, Gail nodded. "If he keeps stonewalling Frankie, I may sic John on him. But… If it was anyone else, we'd probably just take the guilty plea." She sighed. "At least he stopped saying he didn't do it. That shit was annoying."

"I'm glad that's not my headache," Holly said honestly. "What happens if you can't break him?"

Gail tilted her head. "You didn't see the other results? He's related to Curtis Payne. The drug lord who used kids as his delivery and cover?" When Holly looked perplexed, Gail added, "Curtis Payne hoodwinked Father JP's kid into his gang. JP nearly killed him. It was ... Interesting."

"Complicated." Holly shook her head. "So are you filing it as a revenge killing?"

Putting the plates on the table, Gail hesitated. "Given the shit we had with the Three Rivers and Anton Hill gangs, I'm kind of hoping its just some back assward revenge. Because the other top pick is a gang initiation. And I'm too old for that shit."

Holly made a disgruntled face. "I'm sticking with science." She sat down and looked thoughtful. "How did Curtis Payne die?"

"Cancer. Just a few months ago, actually." Gail eyed her wife, who was looking deductive. "Spill it, Stewart."

"Well..." Holly cut a piece of chicken. "Did the priest see him before he died? Absolution or whatever they call it?"

Gail snorted. "How should I know?"

"You went to Catholic school, you dimwit," said Holly with a laugh. "What if JP went to see Curtis, and that idiot Eivan got the wrong idea?"

It was moments like that, where Gail remembered all the myriad reasons she married Holly. "Goddamn you're good. I'm gonna make Frankie dig into that... do you mind?"

Holly waved a hand. "Please, email in the name of justice and all that."

Popping up, Gail bounced around the end of the table to kiss Holly's forehead before emailing Frankie with a new lead. It may be another dead lead, but at least it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The death of Jean Pierre ends oddly. His killer did it and will serve time, but his motive is, at this time, unknown. For now. Not all cases are closed in ways we like.
> 
> So far I don't have a ship name but currently people seem to be vying for "vamie" or "firebomb" (you can't use 'fire peck' since that's what Ollie calls Shay, sorry). What do you think?


	16. 02.06 Girls' Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Steve Peck retires, crime goes on with a murder at a drag club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life changes and people move on. It's time for Steve to retire and maybe, just maybe, time for Vivian to move forward in her relationship with Jamie the firefighter. Yes. That.

The last night of the night shift couldn't come fast enough for Vivian. It threw her rhythm off, being up all night. Not that she really minded being up. It was that she had to try and sleep _some_ in the day. And she didn't want to.

What she wanted was for Jamie to be able to come over when Christian wasn't there. Or for her to be able to go to Jamie's when Ruby wasn't there. Because neither of them really wanted their first time to be with roommates who might pass judgements. Or be sarcastic and knowing. Or cry, in the case of now single Ruby. Or maybe in Christian's case too, frankly.

Of course, that meant she was more fidgety than normal.

"Okay, Ms. Ants in her Pants. How good is the sex?" Lara was smirking in the shotgun seat while Viv drove them down the deserted road.

"Do people _really_ talk about this?"

"I thought you had a best friend in high school who was a girl. Didn't you two talk about stuff?"

Vivian made a face. "No, but I had the worst crush on her."

Lara was quick. "Oooh right, your ex? Yeah, no wonder you suck at girl stuff. Didn't your Moms...?"

"Hah, you've met them." Gail didn't get along enough with people to talk about it with anyone other than Holly. Of course, Holly had Aunt Rachel and Aunt BitchTits. Even so, Holly did not generally talk about girly things. Sports, politics, sure. "We haven't had sex yet. Happy?"

"Wait, what?"

Vivian sighed. "Our schedules are kind of at odds." And the few times they'd had the same free time, there either hadn't been enough of it or, worse, one of them had been on their period. Not how either wanted their first time to go.

Her partner laughed. "You look like if we suddenly got the night off, you'd drive the squad over right now."

That was tempting. "No. She's on tonight. Seven to seven." The twenty-four hour shifts were murder. Jamie would try and sleep half the day before in order to survive on the lack thereof the next day. The day after, she was either wired or dead on her feet, and trying to force herself back into a better rhythm. Sometimes she only had one day off between shifts, sometimes two or four or five. In between those shifts, she had to squeeze in everything from shopping and laundry to sex with her new ... girlfriend?

They hadn't put a name on it yet. If she'd been in high school or college, 'girlfriend' would be the right name for it. People who made out and went for food when one was at the end of a shift and the other was about to start, that was what people did on dates. Vivian wanted to say 'girlfriend' but even in her head that had a weight to the word. A girlfriend was someone you told your parents about, and Vivian wasn't sure she was quite there yet.

But the thought of her kinda-sorta-girlfriend faded as she watched the street that night. There was a flavor to the air. Something besides the humidity. What had Oliver told her? Full moons made people go a little crazy, but it was only a waxing gibbous moon that night. No, wait, he'd told her that, eventually, she would feel the pulse of the street.

"Man they have insane shifts. Do they stay up all night?"

"No." Vivian frowned and eyed the road. She was certain something felt off.

"Are you this ... What's the word? Short with her?"

"Taciturn, and yes." Yeah, there was a heady sensation on the streets. Not this one... The side streets.

"You are a fun, fun girlfriend, Peck."

"Lara, does it feel weird right now?"

"Well you're pretty weird-"

Vivian cut her off. "The street. The ... The city. Something feels tight." Lara shut up and frowned. She was good at reading people, seeing motive. Vivian had a talent for spotting lies, but that was a natural gift. There were Peck gifts, things Gail and Elaine had given her over the years, that told her when things were just plain wrong. Right now her Peck Training was on high alert.

They came up by the dive bars and Vivian slowed the car. It was a week night, which was generally quiet. But it was also summer, when hordes of bored college students did remarkably idiotic things.

"Okay, now that you said it, it does," Lara muttered. "Don't jinx us, Peck."

A woman flew across the hood of their car. Vivian slammed on the brakes and stared at the tall, muscular woman in a gaudy dress, who stood in a doorway screaming. "We don't want your kind here!"

Oh. Not a woman. Or maybe a woman. Now was not the time for nitpicking. Lara grabbed the radio, "Dispatch, 1504, we've got a fight at, uh..." Vivian supplied the location. "Right. The, er, Beavertail Club?"

"Drag Revue." Vivian had the car off and the windows up.

"1504, Dispatch. Do you require backup?"

"Uh," Lara hesitated as Vivian got out of the car. A heartbeat later, a second body was thrown out. "Yes, yes 1504 requesting backup."

Inside the club was an all out brawl between performers and some drunk woo-girls. Wigs had been yanked off of heads, the claws were out, and it was an absolute mess. Before the backup arrived, however, the situation took a turn for the worse. They'd managed to calm down most of the fights when there was a scream from the back of the room. Vivian knew the scream and quickly convinced her troublemaker to sit before rushing into the back.

"Uh, Dispatch, 4727. Change that to a 10-45."

There was a crackle from her radio. "4727, Dispatch. Say again?"

"Dispatch, 4727 calling in a 10-45, requesting homicide."

"4727, do you need a Bus?"

Vivian looked down at the woman with her throat nearly slashed to the bone. If she hadn't known from the volume of blood, the bone was a giveaway. "No. She's dead alright."

* * *

"That really sounds like you," laughed Holly as Vivian told them the story of the dead woman while they finished getting dinner ready. "This one had a headless guy in an ambulance once."

Vivian grinned and took out three beers. "The case that made Mom's name in major crimes." Everyone knew that story. Even Vivian had a strange connection to it, since it had been her first majorly involved case. "Three Rivers was a stupid gang name."

All three women agreed on that front. "I'm sad to say they're no smarter in your day as they were in mine," sighed Gail, taking a bottle. But then Holly knew that Gail was likely to remember the case more as the last major case that Steve worked on before he retired. Soon.

Frowning, Holly slid her arm around Gail's waist, pulling her close. Of course Holly knew how much her wife was going to miss having her brother around the Division. They'd talked about it enough. The times were changing. "I wish I was working the case," mused Holly, trying to make Gail smile. "I love a good decapitation."

Gail laughed. "You are such a nerd." She grinned and kissed her wife's cheek.

"What? They're fun to work on!"

Shaking her head, Gail told Vivian what Traci had told her that afternoon, "The Ds said you did good. Controlled the scene, contained the suspects, didn't let anyone else panic."

"I was raised by the best detective in the city," countered Vivian casually. It was flattering and Gail blushed. "Mom, seriously."

"You know, you just can't tell if you're doing right at the time," sighed Gail. They all sipped their beers. It was strange having the house to themselves again, now that Vivian had moved out. Having her back for a meal didn't change a thing. This was still home and right. "How's it going at the new place?"

Her daughter blushed, much to Holly's surprise. Hello! "Fine," she mumbled, looking down.

Immediately, Gail eyed Holly who just smiled. Holly was certain that there was a girlfriend. Vivian would tell them sooner or later. "It's very odd here," said Holly casually. "Your mother misses her minion."

"Hey!" Gail scowled. "I'm not the one who forgot that it was her turn for the laundry."

"No, you just forgot that you have to pick up the groceries yourself." Holly grinned and sat at the table. "Vivian, you're lucky you're even getting this."

Vivian grinned. "Mom's crap cooking is better than our good cooking." And Holly laughed.

Dinner was normal. They joked and bantered. Gail and Holly flirted, and Vivian complained about them. But when Gail went to handle a phone call upstairs, Holly leaned towards Vivian. "So?"

Her daughter froze with her fork in her mouth. "Wha?"

"Who's the girl?"

Bingo. Vivian turned red. "Nuh uh, Mom," she scowled.

"Oh please, I won't tell Gail."

They both looked at the stairs. "That isn't it, Mom," said Vivian softly. "I … You didn't tell everyone you got together with Mom right away, right?"

Holly hesitated. There had been myriad reasons for that, not the least of which was that she wasn't entirely sure what had been going on with Gail at the time. She'd half expected Gail to freak out about kissing a girl and run off into the night. Even now she was delighted to have been wrong. "True."

"Well. I don't … I want this to just be a thing with us for a bit." Toying with her fork, Vivian added, "I want to figure out what the thing is first."

That hit close to home. Holly smiled. "I understand, honey. Though … You're not her first …" Holly gestured at Vivian, a little lamely. "Girl … Are you?"

Vivian half smiled. "No, Mom. She's not a lesbian virgin." Then she sighed. "It's just … Jesus, we haven't even had _sex_ yet."

Patting her daughter's arm, Holly remembered that stage of her relationship with Gail all too well. "Well. At least you know she's into girls."

Vivian made a face. "Right now I just wish I didn't have a roommate. Or a period."

Oh that. "Schedules and roommates. At least Lisa isn't your roommate. She would offer advice if she could hear you." More than once, having a similar lament, Holly had heard advice on how she could satisfy herself and her girlfriend without inconveniencing anyone.

"God that sounds like Mom."

They both laughed. "Doesn't it though?" Holly grinned and gestured with her fork. "Your secret's safe with me, kid."

"Thanks," muttered Vivian.

And, to be fair, Holly did put it out of her mind. She had a to-do list a mile long, and was behind on a paper she'd been promised to finish. There were too many things to write and not enough uninterrupted time to do it in. Which was why she took the next day off.

And, logically, it was why the doorbell rang before lunch the next day. Holly swore.

She'd been at the end of her brilliant article about the curing of bones for long term strength and stability once removed from the body, and how it changed the way a bone was reproduced with a 3D printer. It was perfect! It wrapped everything up in a mic-drop moment. And now it was lost.

The doorbell rang again.

"God fucking damn it! I'm coming!" She picked up a pen just for the physical satisfaction of throwing it back down and stomped down the stairs. The doorbell rang again. "For fuck's sake," snapped Holly and she threw the door open. "What the hell could possibly be so important?"

The delivery man looked stricken. "Um. Dr. Stewart?"

"Yes?" She knew she was bitchy and peevish and did not care.

"Um. Sign here?"

She scrawled her name and took the padded envelope. "It's not your fault," she muttered, and closed the door. A heartbeat later she opened it. "Thank you!" The delivery man half waved and she kicked the door closed.

The package was a book from a publisher. Not hers. Holly frowned and tore it open to reveal a book. Not just any book. Her mother's book. "Oh my god!" Holly's annoyance faded away and she bounced up and down. "Mom!" It didn't matter that her mother wasn't there. The only thing that mattered was the book, _The Migration of Flora_ , was finished and the first copy was in her hands.

Holly sprinted up the stairs, her socked feet slipping on the hardwood floor, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the number on her speed dial.

"Go for Peck."

The words she was thinking of saying fell out of her head. "Seriously? That's how you say hello to your wife?"

"Hey! I thought today was don't call or die day!"

"The book came!"

Gail was quiet for a moment. "Book?"

"Mom's book! About the migration of the biomes in … You remember? She was showing us last Christmas?"

"You know I love Lily, baby, but — Wait is this the book about how plants migrate and the shipping patterns changed the rate so that's why there was that weird mold outbreak in BC?"

"That's the one! She got it published!" Holly flipped it open and oohed. "She thanks us in the preface!"

"Did you finish your paper?"

Holly fell silent. "I want to read Mom's book," she said petulantly.

"Uh huh. And you didn't call your mother because…"

"Mom will want to talk and I haven't read it and I'm supposed to finish my paper and … Damn it, I don't want to be the adult!"

Gail laughed. "Okay. I have an idea. Finish your paper. I'll come home and cook something awesome, and then I'll read it to you. Or you can read it to me."

"You will fall asleep."

"Not if you're reading. I might be inspired to rip your clothes off and ravage you, but that's a different story."

Holly blushed. "How does that turn you on?"

"Well it's you talking science. Totally gets me hot and bothered. You know I have a thing for you in that lab coat, too."

"You better be in your office by yourself, Gail," said Holly, warningly.

"We got a plea deal from that stupid smuggler. And I have lunch with my mom. It might be a while." Gail paused and Holly could feel her wife's apprehension. The last thing Gail wanted was to help plan Steve's retirement party. "Go finish your paper about how you got the 3D printed bone model right. Love you, baby."

"Oh fine, be responsible. Love you too." Holly hung up and sighed. She wanted to have fun and read the book. Not that her paper wasn't fun, the 3D printer shenanigans had been kind of awesome. But that was just the effort of getting what was in her head back out. This was entirely new.

On the other hand, it was totally cool that she'd figured out the structure of the inside of the fake bone had to be different, in order to support the proper weight and abuse one might need to inflict on it. Not to mention the bone structure itself was altered by the curing process. The fake bones they made for people were adjusted to the impact stress of human life. In her quest to reproduce not just impact but tensile strength of real bones, Holly had accidentally found out how to make the bone weight correct. A handful of ortho doctors had swarmed over her findings and, in the last two weeks, were pushing to create a new leg for a national soccer player. The secret sauce had been in wrapping the 3D plastic around a separate mold of the inner bone.

The structure of both parts was different. One was honeycombed and the other was a more spiral approach. It had taken hours of effort, dozens of failed attempts, and finally it had all worked. Finally she had a bone with the right heft, balance, and strength.

And when she smashed it into the demo skull, it left the exact right impression.

Holly had cheered. So had the printer tech. Then he asked why they were cheering.

If the punishment for that was writing a paper to submit, in a bit of a rush, to the Boston Forensics Conference later that year, well, really she'd deal with it. Holly didn't mind writing the paper. She just minded the speed. She had to have it done by the end of the week.

Putting her mother's book down in the kitchen, Holly dragged herself back up to, as Gail would say, be brilliant.

* * *

If she didn't know Holly was working hard, she'd have texted her wife. Instead, Gail sent a message to her daughter.

_Shoot me._

The reply was immediate.

_Me first._

And Vivian sent a photo of herself in the evidence room.

"Gail," said Elaine, firmly. "Stop texting Vivian."

Gail sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. "How did you know it wasn't Holly?"

"You have a different smile." Elaine waved a hand and tapped the table. "Now. The issue at hand, if you please?"

Beside her, Gail's asshole brother smirked. "Buuuuusted."

"Shut up," snarled Gail, shoving him in the arm. "We don't need a DJ, mom. The jukebox has all of Steve's music on it, so we'll just hand people tokens when they come in and they can pick their favorite Steve song."

While her brother looked skeptical, Elaine nodded. "While I dread a night filled with nothing but Tom Petty, I think that will work."

"You didn't share a wall with him growing up," Gail remarked. "How many of your exes are we inviting?"

Steve shoved her arm. "Brat." Then he grinned. "Mom, seriously. A cake, some booze, some tunes, and everyone crying about how much they're gonna miss me. That's all I want. I'm a simple guy."

True. Steve was a pretty simple sort of guy. "You already talked me out of an actual party," said Elaine, contemplative and complaining. "At least your sister let me."

Snorting, Gail shook her head. "Hello, no. Your cohort in crime, Lily, did that. One doe-eyed look from her, and Holly's fucking butter." It was twenty years and Holly still felt guilty for eloping.

"You robbed us of a wedding and a baby shower."

"Well Vivian was six, Mom."

Elaine's eyes narrowed and she grinned just a little. "Steven allowed me to throw a wedding."

"Remind me to retire after you die," countered Gail. Her mother smirked. "Steve, you get that we're having this at the same place as your stupid wedding, too?"

"Hey, you liked my wedding."

"I liked the hotel room after."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "God help me, why did I have two of you?"

Cheerfully, Gail pointed out the truth. "I was the accident." Her mother just sighed, but before Elaine could comment, Gail's phone rang. "It's your BFF, Frankie."

"Lucky you." Steve waved at her, ushering Gail away.

She thumbed her phone as soon as she was a bit away. "Tell me you desperately need me and can rescue me from party planning."

Frankie Anderson laughed. "I wanted to catch you up on the latest from our priest killer."

"Eivan the Terrible? Don't tell me he finally gave up the ghost."

"Not to us, but I've been watching his visitors. Get this. A young priest named Thomas Nelson."

Gail blinked. She knew that name but not the job designation. "JP's son? He's a priest too!?"

"Yeah, the kid went to forgive Eivan." Frankie sounded derisive. "And our little murderer broke down and apologized!"

"This is demented." Gail pinched her nose. "Wait, did he tell Thomas why he did it?"

"He did. And no, the priest won't roll over."

Sighing, Gail shook her head. "Are you calling to give me nothing but bad news?"

Frankie laughed. "Hey I have a lot of good news. For example, Father Thomas told me that while he cannot tell me why Eivan did it, he said not to expect further retaliation."

"What the hell does that mean? This was a one-off?"

"Basically. Thomas is going to start serving the prison so he agreed to let me know if he thinks this will be a gang war. But I think he's trying to make peace with the Montagues and Capulets."

"Worst Romeo and Juliet retelling ever."

The detective laughed. "It's my going away present to Steve-o. No more gang wars."

"He'll appreciate it. What's your other good news?"

There was a pause before Frankie replied. "Not work."

"Oh ew, no, I don't not want to hear about your sexcapades, Anderson. I'm hanging up unless you have something new on my firebug or Eivan."

"Fine. Tell your kid thanks."

Gail made a face. "I do not want to know— wait, are you bringing someone to Steve's party?"

"I am," said Frankie slowly. "Is that going to fuck up your planning?"

"One person, no. A harem of seven who fight about who's going home with you might."

Frankie laughed. "Just one. Mac."

It took a moment, but Gail knew Mac very well. "My kid hooked you up with Mac? The EMT? Jesus, what's the world coming to?"

"A very delicious, best sex ever, ending."

"Okay, you get how that's not any more appealing now that it was when we were twenty or thirty?"

"And to think I'm in my sexual peak now," said Frankie, laughing.

"Fuck off. I'm hanging up, Anderson." And Gail hung up and sighed again.

It wasn't really about Anderson. She was happy for Frankie, in many ways. Everyone deserved to be happy, even that queen of braggadocio.

Gail just wanted her day to be over. To be home and hanging out with Holly, listening to her gorgeous nerd read about plants from a book written by another nerd. Gail wanted to stretch on the couch, her head in Holly's lap, and pretend to be disinterested in the technical jargon. She wanted to have her killers caught and confessed. Her daughter somewhere good at the end of her day, maybe the Penny, with friends.

She wanted to have her brother by her side. Her against him, him against her, but always them against all the rest of the fuckers out there.

And Steve was leaving her.

Sometimes Gail wondered if he ever really minded that she'd been promoted over him. Steve took too many chances, played dirty too often to get the gangs and drug dealers to believe him, for his ascension to ever happen. And Gail had taken a fast track, partly by design, partly by accident. She'd been in the right place at the right time.

Detective Inspector Gail Peck, head of Organized Crime for TwentySeven, ThirtyFour, and of course Fifteen.

She could be the super, if she wanted. Gail knew that in her heart. But she knew she didn't want it. What she loved was the crimes, the games and the puzzles. The politics she hated and could do without. The puzzle of why Eivan killed Father JP was nagging her. The puzzle of why various places in Toronto had been torched was really pissing her off.

Glancing at the table, Elaine and Steve were going down a list. She could read their lips. Elaine was complaining about the alcohol choices and Steve insisted the beer would be drunk and, if not, they could use it at the softball games. That meant he'd be donating it.

Gail shook her head and tapped her phone, calling John Simmons.

"All the begging in the world won't make me consider coming to bail you out of planning with your mom."

She grinned. That was why she adored John. "You're coming on Saturday, right?"

"I have a choice? Elaine handed me the invitation!"

"Then no, no you don't."

"Ah well. At least I know she'll have good food. Janet's place is catering."

Of course Gail knew that. "You're welcome." The cook had mentioned to Gail that their catering business had been struggling.

"I'm not thanking you, you opportunistic pest." John laughed. "You didn't call to brag."

"No. I have a legit question. Where are we on the arsons?"

John groaned. "Well. As brilliant as your kid is, her theory hasn't panned out. We can't make an autonomous fire starter from the car parts yet. I can't find the new supplier. I can't find a pattern between a homeless man's cart, the fire at the frat house, and the rent boys at the underpass, and the description of the firebrand is as useful as tits on a duck."

The description had been a medium height male, 18 to 25, with brown hair and brown eyes. Average build. "I thought you decided the cart was a trial run and not a target."

"Oh, that was until I went over the interviews again. That guy is an asshole. Did you read it?"

"No. It's your case."

"Right, well he was ... You know how your kid just _looks_ gay, right?"

Gail blinked. "If you say so." Gail did not have much of a gaydar. Holly did, though she said it was broken regarding her own daughter.

"He called her... hang on. The butch wanna be boy-cop. Said Peck was helpful, for a dyke. Aronson's report lists multiple instances of him calling Peck some nasty gay slurs."

Gail's face tightened. Ah. That was right, she'd heard about that. "So he's a homophobic asshat. It happens." She bit her lip and decided not to ask what her kid had said back. Probably not a damn thing.

"I'm sure it still happens. But it makes me think he'd piss people off. Made himself a target."

It wasn't a bad idea. "And the rent boys?"

"Assuming the dead john was the target and not the prostitute, he was an a-type jock asshole. And frat boys? Hullo."

Gail followed John's train of thought. "Revenge for ... Bullying?"

"That's where I'm going for now. I got this, Gail. Go help your brother."

"Can you pick up Frankie's case? Oversight? She's angling for a promotion and I'd like to help her bump."

John made a noise. "A dead end case is not the way to go there, boss."

"Handling a dead end well can be."

"Okay, that's fair." He sighed. "For the record, I'm staying as Sergeant."

Weirdly that felt like a punch. Gail closed her eyes. For a few years, John had flirted with the idea of leaving. The old Gail, the one who'd been new to the gold badge, who'd been the baby D, would have brushed it off and ignored her feelings. "I honestly don't think I could take you and Steve leaving in the same year."

And the man who had been by her side, constantly, for two decades, exhaled. It was long. It was low. And it said everything. "Not any time soon, Peck. All the good shit happens with you around. Besides, you like me."

She smiled. It didn't matter he couldn't hear the grin. "Well not if you're gonna get all sappy and sentimental on me, Simmons."

"You wish, Peck." They paused and, in that moment, they knew. It would be years. Maybe even never. "You know, it's funny. I remember the last thing Griggs ever said to me."

"Oh? Fuck decaf?" That had been the last thing she'd heard him say.

"No. No, it was ... He said that I should be your sergeant, after him. And since I'd never been divorced, I'd be a hell of a lot better one that he was."

"Daunting," muttered Gail.

"Bit, yeah."

She shook her head. "Don't fish for compliments, John. I'm not comparing you two."

John laughed. "I'd never ask. But remind me, did you or Holly propose?"

Oh so that was his angle! Gail snorted. "She did. It was not something I'd recommend."

"Eloping, though. I could do that."

"Well. That part I did." She chuckled. "You get serious about that, come on over."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go read up on Anderson's cases. Go back to lunch." And he hung up.

Gail probably could be fine without John around, but she was in no rush to try. It was enough to know that she'd be saying goodbye to Steve as a police officer soon.

With a deep sigh, Gail pocketed her phone and went back inside.

* * *

Kissing Jamie was definitely one of Vivian's new favorite things to do. There was just something about it, the way she was gentle and soft in all the right ways, that made Vivian forget about the deal they had with going slow. It made sense. Jamie's last girlfriend had been pretty messy, Vivian's track record hadn't been great. Be slow. Take it slow. Don't jump into sex.

But damned if Vivian could really care less about the TV show they were supposedly watching. She was paying far more attention to the way Jamie fit against her. At least until her watch chimed.

Jamie leaned back, flushed. "Do you have to go?"

Vivian checked the alert, which was just the standard 'go to the batting cages' reminder. An event that had been canceled. "No. I forgot to delete the calendar alert is all."

"Good." Jamie grinned and leaned back in, cornering Vivian on the couch.

They didn't get to spend much time with that before Ruby snapped. "Oh Jesus, again?"

Vivian sighed as Jamie moved off her, coughing a little embarrassed. "Hey, Ruby," said Vivian. "You're home early."

"I thought Wednesdays meant I didn't have to see you two screwing on my couch." She wasn't really mad. Vivian kind of liked Ruby, in a snarky way. It was kind of like Gail-light, not that she'd dare tell Ruby or Jamie that.

Disgruntled, Jamie pointed out the facts as she stood up. "Making out. Not screwing. Also it's my couch."

"Our couch."

"Whatever. You didn't hear me complain when you and what's his name were actually half naked in the kitchen."

Vivian cleared her throat and raised a hand. "Just for my peace of mind, you did clean the counter, right?"

And Ruby laughed. Just like that, the mild argument was defused. "Fine, whatever. Don't care. Hi, Vivian. Bye, Vivian." Ruby walked down the hall to her room.

As soon as the coast was clear, Vivian stood up and gently turned Jamie around to face her. The firefighter smiled and kissed her again. After a moment, though, Jamie asked, "When is your shift change?"

"Two more weeks," she said quietly, giving in to the want of having Jamie closer, looping her fingers through belt loops and softly pressing her lips to the other woman's neck. Two more weeks until they had somewhat matching schedules. They knew that.

Somehow Jamie kept her mind on track. "What are you doing this week?" Apparently the semi-privacy of next month (two weeks...) wasn't soon enough. That was encouraging. Admittedly they'd been playing opposite schedules for the last three... No the last four weeks and three days, and god it was frustrating. Most of the reason Vivian wasn't angling for sex right then was that Jamie had to work tomorrow.

Vivian closed her eyes for a moment and paused. She couldn't think about the rest of her life _and_ how amazing Jamie's skin felt at the same time. "I've got the day shift until Friday, then Saturday I have to help with my Uncle's retirement party." And then Vivian was back at work on Monday. In between she was helping the detectives at the drag club where the woman had been killed, even though they knew it had been the bartender. Hell, he admitted to it.

And then there was Jamie's schedule. She'd been on for four days, then had yesterday and today off. Tomorrow was two days on. "I'm on till Friday anyway," mused Jamie. She had the weekend off, but working tomorrow meant Vivian staying was a bad idea. Being one of the only women in her station, Jamie had a 'thing' about showing up to shift tired. And Vivian understood that. Besides, Jamie had a lot to fit in for the weekend. Like all of her shopping and laundry. But then she asked a surprising question. "How long do you think the party will go Saturday?"

Saturday? The day after her shift? "Oh, forever," grimaced Vivian. "My Moms will skip out by eleven, though."

Jamie's fingers toyed with Vivian's shirt buttons. "So. Maybe you could get out after? Come by?"

Come by. Even Vivian, who was pretty bad at reading signals, was sure she knew what that meant. Come by and have sex. Because Jamie didn't want to wait either. "It'll be midnight if I'm lucky." And Jamie leaned in again to kiss her. She couldn't not smile at the feel of Jamie's lips on hers.

"Text first," decided Jamie, putting a small moment of caution in the air. "Ruby's shift changed. She's working that night." They kissed again, Vivian struggling not to push a little past kissing, not to slide her hands under Jamie's shirt. One sneaky finger slipped up, brushing Jamie's waist just before Ruby came back from the bathroom, effectively chasing them apart.

Those kisses carried her through the mundane shift the next day. She had to work with Duncan, who hadn't gotten any more clever over time, but it was Thursday which meant dinner with her parents. At the house, her Moms were busy lamenting over Steve's retirement (Gail) and the implications of their own age (Holly).

"I'm just saying, pretty soon all my classmates will retire. Do I really want to be a cop till I die?" Gail chopped viciously at the potatoes.

"Yes," said Holly, smiling and helping Vivian pick out what books to take to her place out of the latest shipment from her grandparents. "You're an amazing detective and you love it."

Gail grumbled. "A sixty year old cop is way different from a doctor, Holly."

With a long suffering sigh, Holly got up and walked over to Gail. "Hey, look at me, honey." The chopping stopped and Holly's voice was much quieter. They didn't want Vivian to hear.

That didn't bother her. Parents were allowed to have privacy after all, and their concerns didn't always revolve around her. "Hey, Monkey," called out Gail. "Are you happy?"

Vivian blinked and looked up. "What? In life?" Her mothers were leaning into each other looking thoughtful. "Yeah."

"You don't have a lot of friends, and I know it's been tough since Liv came back and left and you..." Gail trailed off. "I'd hoped you guys could be friends again."

"Liv is dating a guy," sighed Vivian, crossing her legs and leaning on the box. Both of her mothers looked surprised.

Of course Gail looked upset. Angry. Not at Vivian, though, at herself. A hand on Gail's arm stayed her, though, and Holly asked, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Well. She hadn't told her parents, and it's not like we were dating anymore." Vivian shrugged. "I'm kind of pissed. I mean, knowing she went to a guy is weird. She's bi, which I know, but still. Knowing she was dating a guy and she kissed me was weirder. That ... yeah."

Now Gail made a noise. "Wait. She kissed you? When was this?"

"Fite Nite last year. You're right about that being bad luck for Pecks. I'm skipping this year." Vivian knew her casual demeanor, one she actually felt now that she was safe behind the wall of her secret relationship with Jamie, was helping her mother keep cool.

"Olivia kissed you _and_ she's dating someone?" Holly looked a little horrified. "A _boy_?"

"Man. Whatever. Male. Yes." Vivian sighed and reached for another one of the science fiction books. Grandpa Brian loved good science fiction. The stuff with legit science.

Her mothers were quiet for a moment. "Well. Shit." Gail threw a towel onto the counter. "How the _hell_ did you inherit Holly's luck with exes?"

"Hey." Holly looked annoyed. And then. "Nurture?"

"Given that she's adopted," said Gail dryly, "I'm pretty sure it ain't genetic."

"There's inheritance and then there's societal inheritance. In fact-" Before Holly got too deep into ramble mode, Gail kissed her.

"Seriously you guys ... We were never going to work out, Moms," admitted Vivian. "I knew it. You knew it. She knew it. We were never really in sync. I just screwed it up and now things are all weird and uncomfortable."

Gail shook her head. "You screwed it up, fine, but Liv did too. I mean, seriously. I want to give her crap for that kiss. It's not cool, cheating on people."

Because Gail had. Right. "Mom, you're not her mom," Vivian said plainly. And Gail nodded, unhappy, but agreeing.

"First Liv, then Christian. You had a banner year," Holly said, lamenting.

"I hope you find someone better to kiss," said Gail.

Vivian hoped she wasn't blushing. "I'm just hoping I won't screw up the same way I always do," she muttered.

Her mothers looked at each other and Gail came over to sit on the other side of the box. "You don't have to tell anyone, Viv," she said carefully.

Leave it to Gail to get it right away. "It makes things awkward, Mom. I mean... I spent that whole weekend in Montreal and I barely slept." She only slept because she was exhausted and, literally, could not stay awake. That had been the fracturing of her relationship with Liv. It shattered when she refused to tell her best friend why. Refused was the wrong word. She literally was unable to speak the words. She had tried, and ... Nothing came out.

"You didn't have to move out." Gail gestured over her shoulder. "We talked about that forever ago, Monkey. If you have to live with us forever, that's fine. You're our plus one. Even if you totally blew us off for softball last night."

Rolling her eyes, Vivian pointed out, "You asked me not to come!" Vivian glanced at Holly who was smiling a dippy smile about the whole thing. "Look… I like having my own place, Moms. I mean… I loved living here. But moving out was right. And even when C's out, I can sleep just fine. Just like the cottage and grandma and grandpa's guest house."

They were home. This was home, but so were they. Home was safe now. "So. You think my theory was right?" Gail picked up a book and looked at it.

"I do," said Vivian quietly. "Home is okay."

"Well. If you change your mind. Ever. You can always come here, Monkey. Wherever we live, that's always your home too."

They shared a small smile. Gail's was encouraging. Vivian hoped hers was hopeful. And then she deflected. "So why, exactly, was I asked not to come to the batting cages yesterday?"

Holly smirked. "Gail's trying to learn how to hit a curveball."

Predictably, Gail erupted in faux-anger about the reveal, and everyone laughed.

* * *

The party was loud and Gail struggled to smile. Steve was retired. Her brother was no longer a cop.

She was now the oldest Peck on the force, and the weight of that simple thought was crushing. The legacy and name she'd fought against, fought so hard to rebel from and burn down, was hers and hers alone.

The last Peck at Fifteen.

Which wasn't true. Her daughter was currently pouring drinks behind the makeshift bar, laughing at something Leo was saying. Her daughter, the next Peck. And, now that her daughter was cut loose, her cousin was off to the marine unit and Vivian bore the burden of being the uniformed Peck of Fifteen.

Not that the donut fine was a real thing.

A tan hand covered one of her own. "Hey." Holly's voice was a low murmur. "Holding up okay?"

"Too many parties." Grumbling her reply, Gail picked up her drink and downed it.

"Don't get loaded." Holly's dark eyes were amused but cautionary.

Gail snorted and shook her empty glass. "This is my only drink tonight. Besides, aren't I allowed to get blasted trying not to think about how I'm old?"

"Not if you want to get laid." Kissing the corner of Gail's mouth, Holly took the glass away. "You're not alone."

"I said old, Holly."

"I know what you said. And what you meant." Her wife smiled.

Gail sighed. She _had_ meant alone. "I know. I have Traci and Viv."

"And me. And Andy and Chloe. Fifteen is changing, honey, but it's still home."

"I was thinking... You know I'm the oldest Peck on the force now?"

Holly looked surprised. "No you're not there's ..." She trailed off. "Oh. They've all retired?"

"Mm mm. It's en vogue now. Don't die badged."

Her wife looped her arm through Gail's, snuggling up against her. "No matter how you die, I'll be sad." It was said so simply, it cut Gail's breath away. "But as long as you live happily, with me, I'll be happy."

Gail exhaled and leaned into Holly. "You always talk about how I wow you with words, but ..." She closed her eyes. "I'm happy."

There was the sound of a camera click. "You guys look adorable," said their daughter.

"If that photo ends up in Oliver's hands, I'm disowning you," warned Gail.

Impishly, Vivian shoved her phone away. "You guys good on drinks?"

Holly tilted her head. "You're in a good mood, spawn of Satan."

"I was only adopted by the antichrist," corrected Vivian. "Remind me. Do we like Bibby or tolerate him?"

"We suspect he hit his girlfriend and nearly killed her brother." Gail glanced over at her brother, who had his arm around Frankie, teasing her. They had been partners for a time, after Bibby was suspended.

Her wife poked her ribs. "I'm sorry, we suspect?"

"I was a rookie, and McNally was in her most insufferable back then." And the only other person who might have known was Chris. "Actually that was a pretty bad day... Steve asked me to pick family over my friends." That was the reason she still believed that Bibby perhaps wasn't as bad as all that. Steve was a phenomenal judge of character, and had invited Bibby.

Vivian seemed to understand that. She'd been grasping the touchiness of the political landscape of policing surprisingly well. "Gotcha. I'm going to go save Frankie from embarrassing herself in front of Mac."

They watched their daughter trot over to Frankie and Steve, punching the latter in the shoulder. Frowning, Gail wondered what was going on to put their daughter in a good mood. It was rare to see her bouncy. Even as a child, she'd only really gotten excited about food. Which made Gail worry about her first six years. The day before Vivian had moved in with them, Anne had warned them that she'd had trouble with food at her previous home. A little random hoarding, and a lot of not really eating properly. That was pretty common for kids in the system, though, and had never happened after moving in with them.

Holly cleared her throat. "Stop it."

"Sorry," muttered Gail.

"She's fine." There was something in Holly's tone that implied she had information Gail did not.

Well. That was okay. Vivian tended to tell Gail most things. The times she leaned on Holly more, Gail gave her space and privacy. "I know." She did, too. She knew their daughter would tell them if something was wrong. "She... This year, she moved out and Steve retired. It's weird. That's all."

Holly leaned into her. "Well. We're old. I'm going to retire before I'm 75."

"What?" Gail craned her neck. Never once had Holly mentioned that before. She'd never put a date or a time on anything.

"Ten years. Fifteen at most." Holly sounded thoughtful and yet serious. "Then I'm going to retire and write papers. Maybe a book like Mom. And garden."

Gail chewed her lower lip. "You ... You wouldn't be bored?"

"With you in my life, honey? Never." Holly reached up and ran her fingers down Gail's cheek and jaw. "Plus I'll have more time to spend with you."

"That's a selling point? I thought the strength of our relationship was based on not spending all our time together."

And Holly laughed softly, drawing Gail's face in to kiss. "I know you hate people," said Holly, her voice low and gentle. "But I'm not people." That was true. Gail smiled and rested her forehead against her wife's. "I'm not leaving you."

Leave it to Holly who, after 20 plus years, knew how to read Gail's fears. "I know," she whispered back. It was a fear as old as she was. Her mother had stepped back, ostensibly for her own good. So had Steve. Don't even mention the shit Bill did. They had left Gail, the child, without a support structure. She'd struggled to find her own way, to trust people.

"Steve's not leaving. He's just leaving the force. He's still coming over for Sunday dinner. He's still going to be an asshole who celebrates Christmas as drunk as a skunk." Holly cupped Gail's face with both hands, rubbing her thumbs over Gail's cheeks.

All of those were true. But so was the fact that Gail was scared about what was coming next in life. "Okay," she replied.

This was not the place to voice her fears and doubts. Maybe later, when they were safe at home, she could voice the nagging doubts. That horrible, deep seated feeling of inadequacy that said she was a failure as a Peck. Even though they didn't control Toronto policing anymore, Gail still felt the incredible pressure to be the sort of person all the younger Pecks could look to as a goal.

Maybe it was worse because she had, inadvertently, changed the fundamental nature of Pecks.

"Hey," shouted Steve, his voice booming and laughing. "Stop being so damn cute over here, Garbage Pail."

"Hush, Steven," said Holly.

Gail smiled and turned to look up at Steve. Her brother was a little drunk and flushed, but he smiled ear to ear. And in that moment, she felt at ease. Her doubts fell away.

He had always taught her the important things in life. How to survive as a Peck, a cop, and a human. He taught her how to handle death, guilt, and and everything else. Perhaps paradoxically, the two things she'd taught him were love and fear.

It didn't matter if Steve was a cop or a rent a cop or retired or a stock boy. She would always have him within her.

Gail kissed Holly's cheek and stood up. "Come on, Holly. Let's make this lame ass loser party something awesome."

* * *

It was easy to skip out of the party. Holly hugged Steve and congratulated him. She told she loved him and she'd miss seeing his balding head in her office. She told Traci to take advantage of all the time they had. And then she took Gail's hand and tugged her out into the muggy August night.

Gail didn't say a thing. She smiled in the streetlamp light and kissed Holly softly, like she had all the time in the world.

"You're feeling better."

"I am."

At first Holly had worried that the old doubts and fears were creeping up, eating her alive. But then, when Steve had laughed loudly, they seemed to all fade away. Suddenly Gail was her confident self again. Suddenly she seemed lighter, as if the weighty responsibility of being the oldest Peck standing on the force was nothing.

No matter how many uncertainties Gail had about her abilities, Holly had seen her rise to the occasion every time. No one underestimated Gail more than Gail. Damn those Pecks.

Holly sighed and kissed Gail again. "Let's go home."

"I'm really okay, Holly," said Gail, sounding more sure than she had in a few days. "A little curious about what's going on with Viv. A little sad I won't be able to go downstairs and harass Steve. But kind of excited to see what's next." Gail smiled, the broad, toothy, smile that Holly loved. "Like... What if, instead of staying a cop forever, I went into SIU?"

That was new. "SIU? Investigate cops? I thought you said Pecks didn't do that."

Gail nodded. "They don't. But... I'm resetting what Peck means. Maybe it'll be a new thing."

Slowly, Holly smiled at her wife. "Would you have more free time?"

"I would."

"Then I like this plan."

Gail laughed. "What brought this on? I mean, I know Steve but... You hadn't mentioned a thing about me retiring before."

Sighing, Holly took Gail's hand and tugged her towards the car. She'd always had the idea of retiring before 75. "Mom's book. And I had a phone call this morning from the American Academy of Forensic Science."

She watched Gail screw up her face in distaste. "We're not moving to America."

Holly laughed. "God no. But they officially want me to talk at their conference in Boston this autumn."

Gail stopped dead in her tracks. "The asshats who turned you down for the last five years? They called? What the hell paper did you submit?"

And Holly grinned ear to ear. "I didn't. They heard about the 3D printer breakthrough."

"They asked you, out of the blue, to present?"

"They did."

It was majestic, watching Gail process that and then break out in a smile that eclipsed the sun, full of pride for her wife's success.

Once, once when Holly had finished a hockey game where she'd scored the winning goal, she'd been filthy and sweaty and exhausted. And Gail had kissed her, gear and all, and told her she was beautiful. That evening at dinner, Holly mentioned to Elaine she'd found it a little odd. Elaine had smiled and said that Gail couldn't just love Holly for her mind, she loved her for all the things that made her Holly.

Then and there, on the sidewalk, in the wet and warm August night, Holly knew that Gail loved her.

Holly knew she was loved for her mind and her body, for her heart and her own passions. The quirks that sabotaged her relationships before were respected and regarded highly. Her obsessive and meticulous nature was just something to smile about. The love Holly had for her job was to be expected and celebrated.

"I know you," Gail said softly, still beaming. "You said yes to them, that you'd do the talk, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Gonna knock their socks off and become some nerdy rock star?"

Holly laughed. "That's the plan, Stan."

"God, you're awesome. I'm coming with you. I want to see you make those old guys kick themselves."

"You just want to have sex in a hotel," teased Holly.

"No, I want to have sex at home. And I want go to a forensics' conference so when people ask me why I'm there I can say because my wife is a goddamned genius."

Letting go of Gail's hand, Holly opened the door to the car. "And sex at a hotel?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "You're such a horny pervert." She buckled in and nodded. "I will have sex with you wherever you want, Dr. Holly Stewart."

"Except at work," said Holly as she started the car.

"Except at work. Yes." Gail fiddled with the air conditioner and leaned in to the cool air. "We are incredibly lucky, aren't we."

"We are. We are." Holly smiled. They road home in quiet, Gail watching the night streetlights and traffic. At some point, Gail's hand absently found her knee, squeezing lightly.

When she pulled up at the garage, Holly giggled. "Remember when I bought you that car?"

Gail squinted at her. "Is there a surprise for me at home?"

"I don't think the plan for sex is a surprise."

"I should have presents," declared Gail, hopping out. "Pampering and chocolate and cheese puffs."

"How the hell you can still eat that shit and not gain weight..." Holly sighed.

Gail stopped inside the door and turned to face her wife. The roots of her platinum dye job were showing the auburn and reddish brown roots. Steve was the blondish ginger, Elaine had been a true red head, Bill had been brownish blonde. Gail looked like all their colors had been mixed together to make hers. She didn't seem tall until you realized she was just two inches shy of six feet. She had curves and looked in no way athletic, but Holly had seen her throw a man half a foot taller and significantly broader out of a car. Gail had run a marathon with Holly, and she'd played softball.

Standing there in the doorway, Gail was dressed in jeans, her favorite boots (God only knew what iteration - she'd had at least six since Holly had known her), and a loose sweater. It was simple, a little slouchy, but had been perfect for the casual retirement party. That was Steve's idea. He didn't want to have a big, formal, affair. He just invited everyone he knew and liked and still talked to, and had a party. Elaine had complained about the hotel cancellation.

The back of Holly's brain processed all that in a heartbeat. The front of her brain just looked at the woman and her mouth went dry. Looking at the same woman, every day, for twenty years hadn't gotten old. Her feelings hadn't faded. Be it complaining about hogging the blankets or the bed itself or eating terrible food, Holly realized she loved everything about the petulant, childish, morbid woman.

"Hello? Earth to Holly. You in there?" Gail was smirking.

"I was just thinking I love you," said Holly. "And you're incredibly attractive."

Gail rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go shower. Come upstairs and I'll wash your back."

Smiling, Holly followed Gail inside and up the stairs to wash more than just her wife's back.

* * *

Midnight was late. One AM was later. Getting away from the party had been harder than she thought since, once her parents left, everyone wanted to bother her. She finally ended up appealing to Traci, saying that she had a kind of a thing. And God bless Aunt Traci, she smiled and told her to go.

_Still up?_

No reply. Vivian sighed as she started her motorcycle, absently wishing for a car with air conditioning. She used to have Steve's old car. A detective's car. Vivian had loved it, as beaten and old as it was. It had been her car since she was a teen and she planned to keep it for years to come. The car, like Steve and Gail, was dependable. Loyal. Pecks were loyal after all. The motorcycle her moms still hadn't stopped harassing her over, but Holly had expressed enough jealousy to get Gail to shut up.

And now Steve was going to work for their mother's family, head of security at Armstrong Diamonds. It was a great job, great pay, and far easier and safer than being detective. But it still felt weird. Steve was a fixture at Fifteen. So was Noelle, but she retired. So was Sam, though he left for TwentySeven when she'd been a teenager. Soon, Gail was right, soon Nick would consider if he wanted to stay a patrol cop forever. Soon Dov would take that promotion and move further up the ranks at the big building. Soon Andy would step aside, like Boyko and Uncle Frank and Uncle Oliver had.

Soon would come way too fast for Vivian's taste.

Pulling up at her apartment, Vivian considered going in. Her mothers had suggested she spend the night back at the house, have a family breakfast like they used to. Really, Vivian didn't want to. Even if she did go back to the house, it was way too early. They'd be having sex, loudly. They had never really avoided sex if she was home but they did at least try to be considerate. Most of the time.

Mind, the headphones had been a very welcome present from Dov that one year. He said he knew how loud Gail could get. Vivian wisely did not tell him it was Holly that prompted the need for the headphones. At thirteen, she'd sometimes wear her shooting ear protection at night.

As much as she wanted to annoy Jamie's neighbors similarly, the lack of reply to her text told her the answer. No. She should go home. _Her_ home. The condo. Obviously Jamie was asleep so Vivian should get some rest. Just as she decided that was a good plan, the phone rang and Vivian blinked at Jamie's face. She smiled and asked, "Hey, did I wake you?"

"No, I was in the shower. Where are you?"

"On my bike."

"Officer Peck," laughed Jamie. "Are you talking on the phone while driving?"

She smiled. There was something calming about Jamie. "No, I'm ... I'm about ten minutes away."

"Okay then. Ten minutes. Ruby won't be home till eight AM."

Vivian blushed suddenly. This was always the awkward part. "Okay," she stuttered back. "Ten minutes." Ten minutes and she'd be at a girl's house. Ten minutes to be able to kiss her. Vivian swallowed a dry throat and put the cycle back into gear. She did want this. She'd thought about very little else at night. She wanted to feel more than Jamie's hands on the small of her back, or her lips on Vivian's lips.

There were acres of muscles and curves on Jamie that she wanted to explore. She wanted to map out the freckles and the scars. She knew what the amazing brown eyes, the ones that were the color of fresh tiled, warm earth, looked like when they wanted more, but what did they look like when they'd been satisfied?

God, she wanted to get laid. Having parents who were constantly screwing did not help anyone's libido. It reminded her of what she was missing. Sex was, as Gail told her once, one of mankind's best discoveries. Her mother was right. Sex with Liv had been good, though not mind-blowing. Since then, she'd slept with a few other women, a couple classmates in college and a cute woman from the computer store. Sex was, generally speaking, pretty awesome. Sex also wasn't the problem.

The problem was actually sleeping, or not. She really hoped that would go away but to date, Vivian just did not sleep well when she was away from home. It had been her deepest fear about the condo. What if she couldn't sleep there either in the long run? So far it was working out alright. But it was also her worry about tonight. What would Jamie think, or say, if Vivian didn't stay the night?

Parking in the lot, Vivian chewed her lip as she walked up to the door and knocked softly. It was almost two in the morning. Sure, she was wide awake and even sober, and she had the next day off. And god, she wanted Jamie bad. Her dreams the last few nights had been vivid to say the least.

Jamie's hair was still a little damp when she opened the door, down and loose. "Good," exhaled the firefighter, standing on her toes to kiss Vivian before another word could be said. The back part of Vivian's brain filed away the fact that Jamie was barefoot, wearing a t-shirt from her station and a pair of cut off sweat shorts. It was both entirely un-sexy and incredibly hot.

Oh yeah, Viv had it bad right now. It got worse (or better) when Jamie's hands went up the back of her dressy shirt, under her riding jacket. Strong fingers on either side of her spine, carefully feeling the skin there. Finally. Oh god, finally. "Wait," she mumbled into Jamie's lips as those got a little needier too.

They paused and she pulled away, the cop and Peck in her demanding she make sure that door was closed and locked. It was a habit she couldn't break if she tried, she knew it, and Jamie smirked a cocky kind of grin. "You look amazing," she noted, taking in Vivian's attire for the first time.

Certain her face was flushed, feeling overheated from her head to her toes (though mostly her center, if Viv was being honest), Vivian stepped back into Jamie's personal space. "You smell amazing." Her voice was quiet. She couldn't be any louder, just in case it knocked them out of this moment of clarity.

Jamie's hands gripped her shirt, pulling her as she stepped back. They didn't really need to say much as they made it down the hall, but as they reached a door, Jamie hesitated and asked, "Do you want to shower?"

That wasn't good. "Do I smell?"

"You smell a little like a bar," admitted Jamie. "Actually you smell like booze. Don't taste like it, though."

"Stupid Steve," grumbled Vivian, the blush rising up her neck when the 'taste' comment sunk in. "He spilled tequila on me."

Smirking, Jamie kissed her again, a little less aggressive. "You're lucky you didn't get pulled over."

Vivian melted into that kiss. "I am stone cold sober, McGann." But now she was totally nervous about her smell. "Why don't I shower?"

Bless her, Jamie laughed softly. "I'm totally winning this moment. You'd think I've never slept with a hot girl before."

"Well you haven't slept with _me_ ," Vivian pointed out, practically.

"Wow. Ego much?" But Jamie was smiling. "And you brought a bag too. Were you planning on getting laid, Peck? Cause I could change my mind and just want to cuddle."

Looking at her watch, Vivian joked, "Look at the time. I should go."

But she wasn't serious and neither was Jamie. "Shower's right there. My room's this one." Jamie paused in the doorway to the room at the end of the hall.

There was a weird moment, awkward and shy, and Vivian solved it by ducking into the bathroom. Was it always this weird, the first time you slept with someone? It had and hadn't been with Liv. There had been a lot more making out and couch time before this moment. Her last girlfriend, if Beth could be called that, had been far too fast paced from start to finish. They'd gone out a few times, casually, before they ended up in bed. And then she'd been dumped by text.

Vivian was not like Lisa had been, that was for sure. It was the downside to growing up with Holly and Gail. You started to expect things to work out like that, and then they didn't. She also wasn't bi, if that horrible experience kissing Christian was any indication. She had no memory of looking at men and thinking they looked sexy, and while everyone joked that it was because she had two mothers, Gail had an unabashed appreciation for the male form. Of course, Gail also was head over heels in love with Holly.

The bathroom was clearly both Jamie's and Ruby's. "And I didn't ask which towel," sighed Vivian. The odds were it was the damp one, though. As her grandfather Brian would say, chance favored the prepared mind, and she pulled a gym towel from her bag. Once she was out of her clothes, Vivian was surprised that they really did reek of booze and sweat. Didn't Gail once tell Holly her sweat was sexy? God. Parents.

Studiously not thinking about her parents, Vivian scrubbed herself off and even washed her hair. She'd shaved that afternoon, before the party, but took a moment to brush her teeth again. Yes, they'd been kissing already, but it couldn't hurt. Then the only decision left was what to wear to the bedroom? Towel or the long t-shirt? Gail would say towel. Holly would roll her eyes. T-shirt. And the shorts.

With the towel around her shoulders, Vivian stepped out of the bathroom and nearly broke up laughing. Jamie was standing beside her bed, still dressed, looking nervous and indecisive. "Can I guess?" She smiled, stopping in the doorway.

"God, I hope I'm not that obvious," sighed Jamie, not looking over.

"You were trying to figure out if you should be in the bed or on the bed or what by the time I got out." Vivian put her bag down and closed the door behind her. "And you're thinking that you forgot to tell me what towel to use. Also probably a bit of fantasy because I was naked in there, and you haven't seen me naked yet. So you got distracted by that and your indecision _and_ you're possibly thinking about how we left my bike helmet on the counter and Ruby might see it. But you're too nervous to turn around and see what I'm wearing." She paused. "I'm not naked right now, Jamie."

Jamie glanced over. "Okay. That is the most I have ever heard you say in one go."

Leaning against the closed door, Vivian smiled more. "But accurate?"

"Disturbingly. How'd you do that?"

"Generations of policing in the family." Taking the towel off her neck, she hung it on the hook on the back of Jamie's door.

"And the towel?"

Vivian pursed her lips. "I just realized the answer makes me sound like a player." And Jamie smiled at her easily. That grin that made her feel warm. "I like to be prepared." The grin grew wider and Jamie sat on the edge of her bed. Vivian walked up and stood in front of her, quietly.

This was easier. This she was confident about. Vivian leaned down, gently cupping Jamie's face to kiss her. Start simple. Start with just kissing. That had been Gail's advice about sex. Let it happen naturally. That was Holly's suggestion. Other people might be embarrassed to take their parents' advice about sex but Vivian's had not been wrong yet. Just start with what was easy and let what happened next happen.

The kissing was easy. The kissing was easy and good and lit a fire in her, low and deep, burning. Jamie scooted back, her hands reaching to hold the backs of Vivian's legs. "You're too tall," muttered Jamie.

"You're just short for being a fireman."

Jamie smiled into the kiss, her grip pulling Vivian down. "This works better if you lie down."

"Pushy." But she moved around and stretched out next to Jamie, still kissing her. The kisses moved from lazy and warming to hungry and hot. Jamie's hands were on her skin, the shirt pushed up to her ribs. She wanted to just pull clothes off both of them and delve into every inch of the woman beside her.

She hated taking it slow. Conversely, she loved the discovery. She loved the inch by precious inch of reveal, the way she learned new things about Jamie. Like the sound Jamie made when her fingers brushed the swell of a breast. There was also the way Jamie's grip of her shoulder tightened as they kissed. That was great.

So they slowly, slowly, eased each other out of clothes and into comfort. Comfort with touching each other. That happened quickly. Some moments were inelegant, but they found a good, easy pace between them, where hands and legs found the right places to be. And they lingered in those places, taking time to find what made the other whimper and what made her gasp. It was the exploration that was beautiful.

And when, finally, they found that peaceful place beyond, where all that existed was quiet and that specific feeling of flowing warmth. Jamie was smiling, already most of the way into sleep, and Vivian propped herself up on one arm to watch. She wasn't tired. Well, no, she was bushed, but she was also far too keyed up in the other way. Her body was relaxed at least.

Closing her eyes, Vivian tried to will her brain to relax and turn off, but it wasn't happening. Every time she managed to get to the state where sleep might come along, her back would tense and her mind would tickle her with a memory. She was twenty-four years old. She had trouble sleeping in someone else's bed, at someone else's house.

By four in the morning, she gave up and started to slide out of the bed, only to have a hand follow her, catching her hip. "Hey, where you going?" Jamie's voice was sleepy and thick.

"Can't sleep," she sighed. This was the part that rarely ended well.

The hand rubbed her hip, and Jamie said something unexpected. "Yeah. I get that." And then she asked, "Come back?"

Hesitating, Vivian scootched back and let Jamie wrap an arm around her waist. "Didn't want to wake you." She tried not to be tense, but the after sex cuddling was still not her thing.

To her surprise, Jamie kissed her on her back, right between her shoulders. This was not cuddling. "Don't worry, you didn't." Another kiss. The arm around her waist tightened and pressed them closer together. "I was really nervous," she admitted, her hand sweeping along Vivian's side. "You don't talk a whole lot."

"I'm not very interesting."

"Liar. You're very interesting." There was another kiss to the back of her neck. The hand ran across her stomach. "I find you very interesting, even if you're quiet. Maybe because of it..." Jamie sighed and the hand went to the top of Vivian's thigh. "You can't sleep."

The hand was very, very distracting. "Insomnia," she admitted, reluctantly. It was nowhere near the whole story. But. Unlike many of her exes, Jamie shared a complicated and high stress job, where sleeping problems were almost normal.

"Well. I'm awake too." And Jamie's hand proceeded to distract more of her, until there were very few thoughts in her head.

Jamie knew what she was doing with a woman. There was no awkward fumbling, but no rushing either, unlike two of her exes. Once she'd overheard Chloe referring to it as sweet, sapphic, lady love and, in the split second before Gail warned Chloe that her ingenuity for pain knew no bounds, teenaged Vivian had snorted her soda out her nose.

But in the early summer morning, that's what it was. Sweet and gentle, Jamie took her time in her own explorations with her hands and her lips. She led Vivian up to the edge and then down again, over and over, until finally setting her free. Oh god, no wonder her parents were always trying to get laid. Good sex was good, but this was beyond just good. This was great. Her entire body felt satisfied and heavy.

"You're really good at that," breathed Vivian as Jamie settled alongside her. Not on her. That was good. A little space. Maybe Jamie liked that too.

"Second time is always better." Jamie's voice was amused. "Besides, you were pretty damn amazing last night. You think it's because you have two moms?"

"Lara asked me that once," sighed Vivian, eyes closed.

"Which one is Lara?"

"Jogging partner."

"Ah yes, Miss 'I ran four miles?!' I remember her." Jamie traced lines across Vivian's stomach. Not really sensually, but more soothing and relaxing. It was sort of working. "Viv, this is the part where you tell me what you said. Or are you trying to tell me she's your ex?"

Vivian smiled. "No. I have four exes, and none are from work."

"That's good. Cappy told me not to date around at work. Then she told me all about a cousin of hers who did that."

"Probably my Mom." That brought silence from the rather postcoital chatty firefighter. "Your Captain is Shay Peck, right?"

"Yeah..." Jamie sounded nervous. "She's really related? Crap. You don't look like her."

"I'm adopted," yawned Vivian. God she was tired. "Mom dated a couple cops before she met Mom."

Jamie was quiet for a moment. "Yeah that's weird."

"Why? You date who you meet."

"No, not that. Hello, I slipped you my digits at a crime scene." Jamie chuckled and Vivian smirked. "I mean, you call them both Mom? Isn't it confusing?"

"Nope." She popped the P like Gail and grinned. One could shout out Peck at Fifteen division and the five of them (four now, sans Steve) always knew which one was meant.

And Jamie laughed. She had a wonderful laugh, soft and bubbly and gentle, but from this deeply warm and safe place. "You're very strange, Vivian Peck... Do you have a middle name?"

She did. "Stewart. My other Mom." For a while she'd thought about taking Holly as a middle name instead, but with Jerry Hollis Shaw, that felt like enough. And hyphenation just meant her name tag would be incredibly long and alphabetically weird.

"She a Peck too?" When Vivian mumbled a no, Jamie wondered, "I can't imagine that conversation. How do you pick a kid's name when you have different last names?"

"They didn't. I changed it when I was eighteen." She felt Jamie startle. "I asked Mom- Holly first."

There was a heaviness to the air, Jamie looking thoughtful. She probably wanted to ask how old Vivian was when she was adopted, or what her birth-name was. It wasn't a conversation Vivian was ready to have, so she reached up and cupped Jamie's chin, drawing her down to kiss. Avoidance wasn't good, but for right now, for the beginning, it was alright.

* * *

That she didn't know who the new Inspector was bothered Gail.

Technically they should have met before Steve retired, but the plans of mice, men, and cops never ran to form. When her cousin in the big building texted her to say that Inspector Seabourn would be there at lunch, Gail warned Andy and hustled through her paperwork to be free.

It was clear the new Inspector wanted to surprise them. Asshole. Thankfully her newly reorganized units were running just fine. Having to work with three separate Inspectors (Wagner at TwentySeven, Galbraith at ThiryFour, and now Seabourn at her own Fifteen) had given her a peculiar skill set. She had mastered politics. Elaine was probably proud of her. But she knew how to talk to the inspectors, what they wanted to hear, and how to make them do what she wanted.

Not Noelle, of course, and Steve was only titularly inspector so he could have a bump in pay before retiring. Wagner, haughty and old school (aka old boys), though he was in charge and Gail was just a little troublesome. Really she just smiled her 'nice' smile and talked to him like she had to Chris when they were dating. Play dumb and he was putty. Galbraith, a new world woman, was firm and unyielding, but gave Gail free reign to do whatever she wanted.

Seabourn, Zeke Seabourn, had worked in UC for years, and then Intelligence. He was a squirrelly kind of fellow, the sort you distrusted as a matter of course. Younger than Gail, he'd been a name Oliver remembered as a fast tracked rookie the year Gail's car had blown up. The day his name was passed down as the next Inspector, Gail asked Chloe for intel and been amazed to find little.

The man was a paper hero. Which either meant he was amazingly good at his job or he was evil as hell. Sadly, Gail was going to have to wait to find out. She hated waiting.

As she turned the corner down the hall on the main floor, Gail nearly plowed into Nick. "Hey, here to spy?" He was far too cheerful.

"On you? Not unless I feel like needing anti-viagra," replied Gail. She cared a little more about spilling her coffee than bantering with Nick. A lot more. Shut up inner voices.

"On Viv. She's interrogating."

Gail blinked and stared at Nick. "Oh. She is?" Trying to keep herself calm, Gail sipped her coffee. Her daughter was running an interrogation. Her kid was old enough and experienced enough to run an interrogation.

"Fox is watching her. Supervising." Nick's eyes flickered to the room, and Gail recognized the worry in it. Of course. Vivian was his rookie. Her future reflected directly on him.

That actually made Gail feel better. "Who've they got in the can?"

Nick scratched his chin. "The bartender from the drag club."

"He was a suspect?"

"After the lab work on the knife had his prints."

Gail made a face. "He's a bartender. They tend to use them."

"Not this kind." Nick held up his phone and showed off a photo of a hunting knife with blood on it.

"Ick. I thought she was killed with a bottle. And... Wait the boyfriend confessed."

Tucking his phone away, Nick nodded. "That's where it gets messy. Bartender was _also_ dating the boyfriend."

"So?" Gail canted her head to the side. "Got a problem with open relationships?"

Her ex was too used to her. Nick just rolled his eyes. "Come on, Gail. Don't make me show Vivian the video of you after your root canal."

Gail pointed at him. "There is no such video, you ass." She couldn't help but smirk at him. There was a video. She had seen it. "Besides, she's seen me on narcotic pain killers."

Nick sighed wistfully. "You're so fun when you're drugged. Why can't you be that way all the time?"

Punching Nick's shoulder, Gail walked past him and opened the door to observation. "Now I have to watch my kid." Nick followed her, laughing, and flicked on the audio.

"Do a lot of hunting?" Vivian's voice was calm. She was sitting at the table, posture relaxed. Actually more relaxed than normal. Interesting.

"What? Uh, some. Fishing. That's what the knife is for. Gutting fish." The bartender looked scared.

Vivian shook her head. "I don't hunt. Do you, Fox?"

The detective, leaning against the door, shook his head. "Nope."

"I fish sometimes, though. Nice big lake up north. I go up with my family. You ever do that stuff?"

The bartender shook his head. "No." But he didn't sound sure.

Vivian nodded. "We fish. Get a boat or a canoe, spend a lazy day fishing. You have to gut them before you can freeze them, you know. My uncle taught me how. Get the scales off first. Put your hand on the fish and carefully cut into it... Except, you have to use a special kind of knife."

Now the bartender looked stricken. "She sounds like you," said Nick, thoughtfully.

"What?" Gail blinked and turned to eye him.

"The way you tell a story that sounds like it has nothing to do with the situation, and suddenly they realize you know everything and they are just _screwed_." Nick shook his head. "Can she wait them out like you? It's a crazy as fuck talent."

Gail shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen her do it before." And it wasn't like Vivian saw Gail interrogate anyone. The waiting, yes, Gail was prone to do that at home when younger Vivian had been difficult. And, yes, she'd done the round-about story to talk Vivian off the metaphorical ledge after that breakup with Olivia.

Huh.

Had she given her daughter the tools to be a good cop, an effective cop, without meaning to? Without intending to? Parenthood was just weird. You were who you were and somehow you helped a person become who they were.

"Well. She's got this down. Think she'll apply for the detective rotation?"

"No," said Gail with a sigh. "She's going to be her own thing." She finished her coffee. "Is McNally in her office still?"

"Think so."

"Right." With a passing glance back at her kid, who was explaining to the bartender how gutting a fish with that knife and his hands would end with disaster, Gail walked down the hall to the glass office that bore the name McNally.

The door was open and Andy looked up as Gail stepped inside. "Gail, do you ever feel like a fraud? Having your name on a door?"

Gail looked at the door for a moment. "No. Why?"

"My dad... He was a detective. I always thought I would be too."

"You're shitty at it," Gail pointed out, closing the door behind her. "Besides, Sgt. McNally, you're your own woman. Isn't that why Frank gave you a new badge?"

McNally startled. "You knew?"

"Jesus, McNally. You went from 616 to 8722. Of course we figured that out." Gail dropped into the chair opposite her classmate. "Seabourn freaking you out?"

The sergeant nodded. "I wish it was someone I knew, or even remembered."

"He was here for a year." Not that Gail really remembered him either.

"Yeah, the year I wasn't allowed to have anything to do with rookies."

"Thank you, Gerald," muttered Gail.

"Actually it was after that," replied Andy. "He was under Gagnon."

Samantha Gagnon.

Well that was a blast from the past. He was Gail's grand-rookie? But that wasn't what Gail said out loud. "Wait, what did I miss that you were banned from TO a second time?"

"I was doing the thing with drugs. They wanted me to be more believable so I couldn't know the rookies."

Gail laughed. "Oh right! And what's his face, Derek? He tackled you!" The karmatic justice had been hilarious. That was back when McNally was still married to Swarek too. Even Oliver had to laugh about it.

Andy rolled her eyes at Gail. "Remind me why I talk to you?"

"Because I know Seabourn's coming here in an hour. And I'm nice enough to tell you."

She was also evil enough to revel in Andy's panic face. Yeah. That was totally why Gail hadn't just called.

"Shit!" Andy knocked her (empty) cup over. "Oh god. I'm not ready for this. I should have stayed in juvie."

Gail snorted. "Your soul was being eaten. Calm your tits, McNally. You've been at this gig for months. Noelle said you were ready. If she said it, you know it's true."

Chewing her lip, Andy nodded. "Why aren't you doing it? The Inspector thing?"

"Uh, fact check. I _am_ an Inspector. And I'll outrank tweedledum." She waved a hand dismissively. "I chose not to be a paper chasing monkey."

Andy looked a little jealous. "I wish I'd known what I wanted."

"To be? Don't beat yourself up. We're all guessing."

"Oh? Says the inspector, married twenty damn years, with a kid who's actually a successful adult."

"Guessing every fucking day," said Gail, firmly. "My guesses happen to be right, since I'm awesome, but." She tapped the rim of her coffee mug. "Look, let's get some tea and you can practice justifying your numbers on me."

Suspicious, Andy stood up. "You're being nice to me. Why are you being nice to me?"

"I'm looking forward to you spazzing out and spilling your tea all over some kid younger than we are," Gail said blithely, leading Andy out of the office.

* * *

"Done!" Holly stabbed the keys, Apple-S. Done. She was finally, finally done. "Gail! Feed me!"

The office door creaked open and Gail's amused face popped in. "You are damn lucky I love you."

There was a dish towel on Gail's shoulder, indicative of cooking. "Whadja make me?"

"Lamb, roast veggies. It'll be another hour or so."

Holly groaned. "I'm hungry now. I used up all my energy on brain."

Gail laughed. "I can make you an appetizer. Crostini?"

"I love you." Holly smiled at Gail.

"Yeah, don't smile like that." Coming inside, Gail kissed her lips and forehead. "You smile that, with that silly quirk, and give me that look with your eyes, and suddenly I'm playing basketball with stupid McNally."

Of course Holly smiled more. "Or you could kiss me again." She reached up and tugged at Gail's belt loops, pulling her closer, angling for another kiss. The blonde made a pleased noise and sat in Holly's lap, her hands on Holly's shoulders. Holly sighed happily, running her fingers over the top of Gail's jeans.

After a little while, Gail leaned back. "I thought you were hungry, not horny."

"I was, and then you came in."

Smirking, Gail leaned her head back in, one hand threading through Holly's hair. Much better, decided Holly. While she loved to tease Gail that her wife got flirty and handsy when she closed a case, there really was something about the feeling of a job well done that made a person feel like either babbling or expending energy.

Her chair creaked as Gail settled more in her lap. The blonde's free hand started to make work on Holly's buttons and the office chair wobbled just enough to remind Holly of the time Gail's previous chair had broken under similar situations. Which naturally reminded Holly of the gales of laughter their daughter had graced them with as they sat on the couch downstairs icing their head (Gail) and elbow (Holly).

But that wasn't what put a hold on their little make-out session. No, no, it was Holly's stomach growling. Loudly.

"Oh man, that's embarrassing," muttered Holly as Gail laughed.

"I knew you were hungry." Gail kissed her nose and managed to get up incredibly gracefully.

As she watched Gail saunter back out of the office, Holly remarked, "I love that you do yoga."

Raising her fist high with a thumbs up, Gail replied, "Welcome!"

Holly sighed happily and fixed her shirt before following her wife down the stairs. One dish of crostini with pesto and bocconcini later, plus a glass of wine, and they found themselves on the couch, lazily kissing and making their way back in the direction started in the office.

As much as she missed having Vivian around the house, it was freeing to have the place to themselves. There was no need to worry, in the back of her brain, that someone might come thundering through the living room. Instead, all Holly paid attention to was the way Gail's shirt was riding up and how smooth her skin was.

The weight of the blonde along side her was comforting and alluring at once. Holly had not grown tired or bored of Gail; how could she? Witty and smart and beautiful, Gail just was everything Holly had ever wanted. Everything she'd dreamed about finding. The love her parents had, the easy and seemingly effortless life where they fit just right.

Now she had that too.

Now Holly knew that seemingly easy wasn't. But it was worth it. They'd had their fights and disagreements, of course, but for a moment like this... Gail grumbled and reached up to push a pillow off the couch. "I hate your pillows."

Holly laughed. "You didn't say that when I bought them."

"They weren't taking up room when I was trying to get in your pants." Gail shifted her weight and kicked the pillows off. "There." She huffed and slung a leg over Holly's, pinning her down.

"Hello." Holly grinned and ran her hands up Gail's arms. "Why are you up there?"

"Oh. Admiring." Gail braced her hands on either side of Holly's head and leaned in, kissing Holly's jaw and then neck.

God that felt good. Holly groaned happily. Every day should have this. Holly took hold of Gail's shirt, holding her in place. She reached up to take off her glasses with her free hand, when the doorbell rang. "Ignore that," Holly instructed.

While Holly ignored it, Gail apparently could not. "Hang on."

Groaning, Holly tightened her hold on Gail's shirt. "No."

Her wife rolled her eyes. "Come on, who rings the damn doorbell here? Kid has a key." She had a point and Holly reluctantly let go.

"Make them go away. I want a quickie before dinner."

"Bossy bossy." Gail tugged her shirt into place and trotted over to the door. "I'll tell 'em to come back later," she promised, only to throw the door open with a delighted yelp. "MATTY!"

What? Holly peeked over the couch and saw the tall frame of Vivian's longest, oldest friend. "Matt!?" Hastily she fixed her shirt and rushed to the door, where Gail had hauled the poor boy into a hug.

They'd not seen him since his surprise visit for Vivian's police academy graduation. While Vivian talked to him regularly and gave reports, it wasn't the same as seeing him in the flesh. "Hi, Holly. Um. Help?"

"Gail," admonished Holly. As soon as her wife, sheepishly, let go of the boy though, Holly gave him an equally big hug. Which was when she noticed one more person. Vivian, of course.

Vivian grinned. "Surprise. He's crashing on my couch for a couple days." The girl ushered everyone inside and out of the heat.

"Did Enrico kick you out?" Gail got right to the point. "Did you get deported? Oh tell me there was a sex scandal!"

Matty groaned. "You haven't changed at all."

"Hey! Who changes perfection, kid?" Gail grinned.

"Seriously, she's only gotten worse." Vivian grinned.

Smiling, Matty explained. "I'm moving back. We. We are moving back. Enrico got a job at the Canadian Opera Company. And I got hired by the company who does most of the costumes. So ..." Matty spread out his arms.

Gail perked up. "Can you get us tickets?"

"Gail!" Holly swatted her arm. "We have season tickets!"

The oven timer went off. "And we have dinner. Minions, set my table," ordered Gail. "Matthew, why are you staying at Vivian's and not your dad's?"

"He's selling the condo." Matty took the plates from Vivian, who was already laying out place mats. "My room is boxes. Besides, I wanted to see my bestie."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "He has a place closer to the city, but the AC is out. Also his dad has a girlfriend so it's me or his brother."

"Who has a studio."

"Your dad doesn't. You just don't want to hear him getting it on with his girl."

Holly smiled as she watched Vivian and Matty banter. Even with Christian, Vivian was a little restrained. But her and Matty, they had become incredibly close. He'd never taken sides when Olivia and Vivian dated or broke up (though privately Matty told Holly he was on Vivian's side). Even when he left, he was the only peer she had that she could talk to.

It was nice to see Vivian smiling like that again.

The evening was not what she had planned or expected. Holly had been hoping for a little sex and then food and then, maybe, sex again. If they weren't too full. Instead it was warm and hilarious.

A less embarrassed Vivian told them about how she'd cracked someone in interrogation, getting the bartender to admit he was taking the rap for his boyfriend. The two men had been in an open relationship with the dead woman, who had wanted to dump the killer and be monogamous. The killer had not taken that well and, as happened, murdered the woman.

"Wait, but why would the bartender cover?" Matty was confused.

"Oh I know," said Gail, wisely. "He didn't want to break up. He was going to dump the girl and keep his boy."

Vivian tapped her nose. "But he didn't tell his lover boy that in time."

Shaking her head, Holly pointed out, "You two are awfully cavalier about telling a civilian about cases."

For a moment, Vivian looked worried. But then she tossed her hair a little. "He already gave his plea deal, guilty for covering up a crime, to the lawyers. The other one had his signed confession. At this point, the best he can say is we coerced him into a confession."

"And I won't tell anyone," promised Matty. "Viv tells me lots of stuff I don't tell anyone."

There was a moment of thought at the table. Holly was sure Gail was trying to think up what stuff that might be. But Holly, lacking police telepathy, just asked. "So you knew about the Liv and kissing thing?"

Matty exhaled. "Thank god you told them, Viv! That was crazy!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Vivian. "I was trying to give Liv the benefit of the doubt."

"For a year!" Matty shook his head. "How come she's so _nice_?"

Holly had to laugh. "Nice? She tricked Nick into selling her that motorcycle, and she didn't tell any of her rookie class she was Gail's kid. She has as devious a sense of humor as the rest of us."

Her wife shot Matty a look of long suffering. "She gets it from Holly. A genuinely nice person."

"Clearly not from you." Matty smirked. He was so comfortable around them now. He hadn't always been. When he'd been a scrawny fifteen year old, he'd been awkward and shy. A year younger than Vivian, he'd been an odd man out for so many reasons. Coming to terms with being gay had been one hurdle. Finding his father was there for him at the end had helped immeasurably.

Then at sixteen, when Gail taught him to drive, Matty's regular hang out became their house. Any time his father was out of town for work, Matty stayed over. That had lasted until the end of their senior year, when Vivian had gotten weird about Olivia. For a while, Holly had worried that Vivian and Olivia would end up shutting poor Matty out, but instead Vivian and Matty found an odd closeness.

The two could go weeks without talking and then start up again as if the conversation had just paused, like a video game. They had a shorthand and in-jokes. If they hadn't both been gay, they'd be perfect for each other. But then again, if they weren't gay, they probably never would have been so close.

"You know, you could stay here," said Holly, at a break in the conversation. "Since Vivian has a roommate, we actually have a spare bedroom."

Matty hesitated. "No, no thank you, Holly. I kinda want to hang out with my best girl."

"Awww, I'm your best girl?" Vivian giggled, faux-simpering, and Matty shoved her arm.

"Hey yours are the only boobies I've ever touched."

While Holly blinked in surprise, her daughter snorted. "Now that's not true! I met Chuck. He had man boobs."

"Moobs are not boobs," Matty corrected.

"I'll take your word on it."

Gail, seemingly unflustered about the conversation, gestured with her fork. "Two votes for moobs being nothing at all like boobs, and I'm probably the only one at the table who actually has sexual experience with both."

Matty cringed. "Ew."

"Dork." Vivian shook her head. "Wait, who had moobs!? Don't tell me Nick was fat... No, wait, tell me Nick was fat and you have photos of flabby Nick that I can pin up in the station!"

"Oh my god, you are totally Gail's daughter," teased Matty. "Holly, I thought she was nice."

"Nicely evil," said Holly, smiling.

A few hours later, after the kids left in Matty's beat up car that he'd driven from New York, the house was clean and quiet again. Mostly clean. Holly felt herself being watched as she finished loading the dishwasher. Turning she flicked it on and spotted Gail leaning in the archway, smiling. Holly arched an eyebrow in silent question to her wife.

Gail didn't move. "I was thinking we're kind of awesome. I kind of feel like Matty's our nephew or something."

"He certainly talks to us more than my godson," noted Holly. Though that wasn't quite true. Jerry Shaw, back when Vivian was babysitting him and Chris Epstein regularly, had been in awe of Holly. He was now an emo teenaged Wiccan who loved science and math, but didn't talk to anyone.

"Jerry is almost seventeen and a boy. They're weird."

"That's true. But Matty... Yeah. He's different."

Gail snorted. "He's a gay boy with a psycho mom. At least Chris and Jerry have intelligent, empathetic parents."

"Poor Matty. Can you imagine if he'd never met Vivian? Or us."

"That's what I was thinking. One thing, one decision to foster, and look at the the lives we changed? We are totally awesome."

It was sort of wonderful and marvelous to see the ripple effect your actions had on the universe. Holly had to admit she was delighted to see that she'd had a positive impact on things. Normally, in their line of work, they brought closure to people in pain. There weren't always a lot of happy endings, as much as they might wish for it. Not everything involved death and destruction, but certainly something 'bad' or 'wrong' had to happen to bring them in.

But in this moment, a friend of a child they'd adopted had come to them to celebrate moving home. Because they were his family too. Because they'd made the world a little better for Vivian, and Matty, and by extension, every life those two touched. The ripple effect was a marvelous thing.

Holly smiled and kissed Gail's cheek as she walked past her. "We are. Are you going to stand down here smiling, or are you coming to bed?"

Swatting Holly's butt, Gail chased her up the stairs, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the half-way point in the season. Can you figure out what's going on?
> 
> Yes, Matty touched Vivian's boobs in a non-sexual way when they were teenagers. He was making her clothes and the boobs needed to be fit. He said they were odd. Vivian gave him a purple nurple.


	17. 02.07 Class Dismissed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final episode of a popular school tv show is being filmed but there's a fire at the real school they're using for a set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you know the show? But not all the fans are taking the end of the show very well. Whatever it takes, right?
> 
> Also snarcasm318 wrote a little one-off that takes place between last chapter and this. It's absolutely canon and I declare it so. Read [Cats in Trees 2.0 (Ode to Chappy)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8803849).

The number of times the theme song played on the speakers was slowly driving Vivian insane. _Degrassi! Now!_ had lasted thirteen seasons. She'd actually watched all of the originals (from ' _Degrassi Junior High_ ' through ' _Degrassi High_ ' and into ' _Degrassi: The Next Generation_ ', back to ' _Degrassi_ ' again, then ' _Degrassi: Next Class_ ' on Netflix, and on and on and finally the current incarnation). But all the same, any time the kids weren't acting, they kept playing all of the various theme songs.

It had gotten to be a bit much, even for a fan. Vivian wasn't surprised that her partner was fed up. "I could hate this show," said Christian, darkly.

"You love this show." Vivian rested her hands on her belt and watched the kids run by, laughing. They'd watched a few episodes together. She knew damn well Christian had been enraptured by the whole Zig plot line.

"I hate the theme song. Especially this one."

Vivian tilted her head. They were playing the one where the choir was singing. "Season … two or three? _Degrassi TNG_? It's catchy."

Christian groaned. "Why are we here?"

"Because someone made death threats about the show ending, which is stupid."

The threat was credible, though. And since _Degrassi_ did keep kid-actors playing kid-roles (more or less), the fact that there were children involved put the cops on high alert. Vivian had joked to Gail that if it had been adults only, they may not have had such a presence. Gail had smirked and admitted that was probably true, but only if the threats had been made at Drake.

"How would killing the actors keep the show going?"

Vivian shrugged. "I think it's a publicity stunt, personally. Spur interest. The ratings have been terrible."

"I worry that you know that." Christian eyed her. "How do you know that?"

"I like Degrassi. Mom and I used to watch it. When I can't sleep, it's pretty much always on."

Her roommate frowned. "How have I not noticed this?"

"Because you're asleep? Dunno." Vivian certainly slept better than she had as a child, but there were still nights (or afternoons, depending on shifts) where sleep was weirdly elusive no matter how tired she was.

Christian huffed. "Well. I noticed your girlfriend."

Vivian winced. "C, not only can I hurt you in ways you've never imagined, but I'm my mother's daughter. Don't start this shit."

While he did pale a little, Christian pointed out the obvious. "You're over at her place a lot is all. Why don't you bring her over more often?"

Honesty. She was supposed to be working on being honest with her friends, or so said her therapist. Not that she lied, really, but she just left things out. "You. And my parents."

Christian held up his hands. "I won't tell Gail. Shit, she scares me. And you know I won't make fun of you." Then he added. "But … I mean, she does come over but you're always watching movies and shit."

Vivian took a moment. "Okay, I know you grew up with your mom, C. You know there are times of the month when women just don't want to have sex, right?"

"Sure."

"Right. It's a little more complicated with two women. Timing issues." She shrugged and watched his face contort as he worked out that Vivian had just told him that her menstrual cycle didn't match Jamie's.

It was kind of priceless.

"Man, that extra sucks." Christian shook his head. "If there's anything I can do make it easier... Just tell me when to ditch and I'm totally cool with it."

She hesitated and then nodded. "Thanks." His response was unexpected. That his first out-loud thought was for her was bewildering. When did people start doing that?

"And no, I will never ask to watch. That's … besides the fact you're gay, and I'm _pretty_ sure the point is no penises there, that's just rude."

Vivian laughed. "Thank you for not being a dude, C." The absurdity of it all made her feel better.

"No problem. Now. Which ones are our age so I can know who to flirt with."

"Oh my god, I take it back. You are such a dude."

Their radios interrupted them, asking someone to check out the back of the school set. "I'm on it. The teachers, right? They're fair game?" Christian smirked. "Dispatch, 4711, I'm on it."

Rolling her eyes, Vivian went back to watching the kids run back and forth. The original _Degrassi_ kids, like Spike, Snake, and Joey Jeremiah, had all been really wonderful people to meet. And the oldest kids from the reboot had, similarly, been interesting and nice. The show was coming full circle, ending with Emma and Spinner's teenaged son (Sean, named for the character who'd died off camera in an earlier season) attending _Degrassi_ as the newest freshman.

Admittedly, Vivian had a closer tie to the plot than most of her peers. She was the latest Peck on the streets (more or less, there were a few of them in her class). In passing, she'd mentioned that to Snake the morning before when they'd been getting coffee. He'd asked if she was a fan of the show, she'd said at she and her mother watched together, even now. Of course he had asked what her mother did, and then he'd laughed.

Right now, though, it was the senior class prepping their big scene for the dance. A two hour TV movie to wrap everything up.

Vivian sighed. She'd miss the show. Give it five or ten years and it might come back, but would it be the same? It was a damned miracle that they'd come this far with so many of the original people involved. And the fact that the show felt the same while being relevant to kids in each generation was astounding. In a decade, would those warriors who fought for Degrassi still be there? Who knew.

Thinking about Degrassi was easier than trying to process what was going on with Chris Epstein, though. After his run in with drugs (which was just holding), she made a point to check on him a couple times. It was surprising, to her at least, what the kid was sorting through. Outside her wheelhouse, and sadly outside most everyone she knew. All she could do was be a sounding board and offer to help in whatever way was needed.

Joining her on her guard duty, Lara nudged her shoulder and jarred her out of her thoughts. "Who's that old guy?"

"What? Why are you asking me?"

"You're the _Degrassi_ fan." She gestured at a cadre of the OG TNG (as some half wit named them).

Vivian rolled her eyes and looked over. As it happened, she did know the guy. "Oh that's Jimmy." When Lara gave her a blank look, she sighed. "Drake."

"Drake. The musician?"

"That'd be the one, yeah." She grinned. Gail always called him Jimmy. "Hey, did you know that we had a criminal once who used dead kids from _Degrassi_ as his aliases?"

But Lara wasn't interested in that. "Drake? The Grammy winning musician is here?"

The only reason Vivian even knew Drake had a Grammy was because Gail found it hilarious. "Yeah. He's just another old dude, Lara." Personally Vivian was more interested that Stefan Brogren had shown up. Actually she was a little impressed that he was still involved in the show. The only actor to have been on it in every single incarnation. Also she liked Snake. He was cool.

"Holy shit. Was everyone who has ever been cool been on _Degrassi_?"

"Uh, if they were child actors, yes." Much like people joked that everyone in New York was on _Law & Order_, pretty much every Canadian child actor from 2001 to now had been on the show.

Lara sighed. "That is so cool."

"Did you really never watch it growing up?"

"I never really watched TV. I mean, I never saw me on it."

Vivian thought about that for a moment. "That's funny. My moms like this old movie, _The Breakfast Club_ , because it was the first time they saw themselves in something like that."

"That's a great movie! Yeah, it's too white, but that's part of it."

" _Degrassi_ 's not really like that," mused Vivian. "They have everything and everyone. Gay, straight, trans, black, white, Asian, every religion. And they don't always work together. They get in fights, predictably. They react like stupid teens. They jump into sex and have consequences. It's kind of nice."

Lara stared at her. "Wow. That is the most I've heard you talk about anything besides work."

Blushing, Vivian gripped her belt. "I like _Degrassi_." She did. It was one of the things that made her feel normal. And it was the only television show she watched in realtime. Maybe Chris would like it, too. God knew normal was neither of their watchwords.

"I think it's adorable," teased Lara.

Vivian rolled her eyes, digging for composure, when someone screamed. "That wasn't in the script," she said out loud. They'd gotten to look at the scenes for the day, so they'd be prepared for any noise. There was no screaming.

"Holy shit," muttered Lara. "What's the code for a fire?"

What!? Vivian snapped her head around. Smoke. "10-78." That was actually a needs-assistance. There wasn't a call for arson, not really. When Lara froze, Vivian slapped her radio. "Dispatch, 4727. I have a 10-78, possible fire on set."

That snapped Lara into action and they both ran towards the fire. "I hate fire," muttered Lara as they rounded the corner and found the front of Degrassi High covered in smoke from a trash fire.

"Hey, everyone, let's get away from the building," shouted Vivian. Her radio squawked back at her, asking to confirm. "Dispatch, 4727 confirm. Got a trash fire on set, clearing the area."

"Copy 4727, do you need a bus?"

"Probably, yeah. Got some smoke inhalation." Vivian looked around. "Yo! Fuller! Clear the kids, will you? Volk, make sure the power's off."

The two fellow officers followed her lead, while Vivian collared a guy with a fire extinguisher. No. Not a guy. Stefan Brogren. "It's to put out the fire," protested Snake. Stefan. Whatever. He was being followed by a camera man, to boot. Probably filming the behind the scenes stuff.

"Good idea, wrong method. We don't know what started the fire, and the chemicals could react." Vivian looked around and spotted a sand bag. Perfect. "Stay back here, sir. If I let Snake get hurt, I'll never hear the end of it back home."

While the actor laughed nervously, Vivian hefted the sand bag to on her shoulder and hurried into the smoke. Not wasting time, she sliced the bag open with her knife, thank you Uncle Ollie, and dumped it on the fire, safely controlling it.

Coughing, Christian guided the last kids away from the fire. "Nice job with the sand," he said to Vivian.

Part of her brain was cognizant that there was a camera aimed at her. But the only thing that Vivian could possibly think of to say was stupid and trite and a little funny. Her inner Gail was in charge. "Hey. Whatever it takes."

* * *

"Whatever it takes." And the camera froze on her daughter, smudged and dirty.

"Well?" The director was bouncing on his toes.

Gail sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "When I asked if you had footage of the fire, I meant so we could use it to determine who set it. Not so I can see how witty Officer Peck is."

Admittedly, Gail found it hilarious, and would show it to Holly later for some laughs. But that was family and this was work.

The director deflated a little. "I…" He paused and looked at Gail's nameplate and then at the video again. Peck. Gail could actually hear the wheels spinning in his head. "We can cover up the name tags in post."

"That's not the issue, here." Gail swept her fingers down her face. It was part of the issue. "Do you have earlier footage and can we have it?"

"Sure, yes, of course. But… no one was hurt, Detective."

"Mr. Franklin, the whole reason we had police presence on set was that you received death threats. And I quote, 'Bring back Holly J or Degrassi burns.' Well, we've had a fire."

The director muttered under his breath. "Charlotte Arnold was booked. At least we got her for the 500th episode."

"And we're all greatly saddened by that turn of events," Gail said, continuing. "But the point is this. Someone threatened to burn down the set. Lives are at stake here. Children's lives. And if you have footage that might _possibly_ help us, you could really change lives."

"Well… We probably do. We were running footage pretty much constantly. For the Deluxe Collectors' Editions?" He scratched his neck. "It's a lot to go over. And we don't want the plot to leak."

It was then that Gail realized how stupid TV people were. "Alright. Let's start with everything that had that prop trash can in frame from the fire back until you don't have it anymore. See if we can use that. We'll have forensics study every piece of garbage people throw into it. You can have one of your techs sit with ours as they go over the footage, and we'll sign a waiver to ensure we don't leak the plot of Sean and Emma's baby going to school." She barely managed not to roll her eyes. "But in return I want access to any footage we deem related."

The director hesitated. "This could be a big PR boom," he noted.

"Probably," sighed Gail. Andy had used them as the Social Media Video of the day already. It had been Duncan playing hoops with some of the kids and Jimmy— Drake. He was always going to be Jimmy to some people. "Do I really need a warrant?"

After a moment the director sighed. "No. No, you're right. This is the right thing to do. I mean, shit, I spent my life making a tv show that tries to help kids understand the right thing to do. I can do it myself."

An hour later, Gail had a stack of micro drives with a copy of all the footage, labeled and organized. She carried the lot down to the main floor. "McNally! I need Peck, Volk, and Fuller!"

Andy's brown head popped up from a desk. "Two outta three? I sent Peck to follow up with Arson."

Gail paused. "Yeah, that'll do."

"What do you need them for?"

"AV lab. I've got the footage of the front of the school with the trash can in it. Since they were on the scene, I want them to go over the tapes."

Andy smirked. "Disks."

"Fuck that. Drives. Whatever."

"Doesn't it make you feel old?"

"When they started making 3D movies we didn't need glasses for, then I felt old." It was a lie. She felt old the day Vivian saved Matty's life. Or maybe the day she turned 49 and a half, and had been a cop half her life. No. It was the day Jordan Lewis threw a slushie on her. She was, in that moment, old.

"Well you're fifty, Gail," teased Andy, who was two years younger, and she went to the break room to get the two officers.

Gail waited while the two baby cops came out, trailing a third behind them. And Gail knew exactly who the third was the second she saw the tie-wearing rookie. Avery Goff. From ThirtyFour. "Goff."

The young man paled. "Inspector Peck, ma'am."

Surprised, Christian looked from Goff to Gail and back again. "Inspector. You've met my shadow?"

Arching her eyebrows, Gail looked at Andy. "When did that happen?" While Gail didn't pay that much attention to the patrol officers in the other divisions, she was well aware that Avery Goff trouble. He was an idiot, and Gail had accidentally called him Gerald the second time she met him. But there was more than that.

"Temporarily as of this morning." There was a bit of tension in Andy's tone. "Goff's shadowing Fuller."

Hm. Gail nodded. "Fuller, Volk, since you were on site yesterday, I want you to hit up the AV lab and go through all the video." She held up a small box and paused before giving it to Volk. "Take these and your sidekick. I need to talk to Fuller for a moment."

Wisely, Lara took the hint and hauled Goff off. Once she was around the corner, Gail pointed at Andy's office. "Uh, did I do something wrong, ma'am?"

"Not you," assured Gail, closing the door behind Andy and Christian. "Goff is on my watch list."

Andy looked mildly surprised. "You have a watch list."

"Why is he here, McNally?" Gail's counter was met with a frown. "Christian, I need you to watch him."

Looking between Andy and Gail, Christian frowned. "For ... For what?"

"How he takes notes. Who he calls. Who he talks to." She hesitated. "Did you ever hear about how Steve pretended to be on the take to get information?"

Christian nodded slowly. "Yeah. Um. Yes, ma'am."

"Well. Right. Sometimes we tap kids in the academy to dig deep into that shit. And Goff? He's not that kid. But he feels like he is. So I want someone to tell me if he's a fuckup or on the take or what. And you? You are unflinchingly honest."

Again, Christian nodded. "Okay... Okay, ma'am. How, uh, how do I report it to you?"

"Swing by. Now go spy."

It took a second, but Christian nodded and went back out. Andy sighed loudly. "If I'd known, I'd have turned them down."

Gail frowned and sat on the couch. "Yeah. What did they tell you?"

"They made it like he was Chloe and no one wanted to work with her."

Nodding, Gail leaned back. "I'm sure that's true. He's a nimrod. Or he's faking being a nimrod and is really evil." Then she asked, "Did you ever think Gerald was an evil genius?"

Andy looked thoughtful. "Yes. When he recorded me on his phone." Then she winced. "Oh I see."

"Something about him. I don't know. I warned David. I'm pissed he didn't pass it on to you."

In full agreement, Andy fired up her computer. "I'm going to kick his ass later. Should I talk to Seabourn about it?"

"Probably," shrugged Gail. She closed her eyes. "Who the fuck set Degrassi on fire?"

"An older cast member, pissed off they weren't invited back?"

"Fire seems pretty low PR way to get their attention."

Andy made a noise. "So glad I didn't go detective." Then she paused. "Hey I have a weird question."

"McNally, if you ask me which Degrassi I had a crush on, I will stab you."

Instead Andy asked a truly unexpected question. "My father isn't my father. Is he?"

Gail's eyes popped open and she stared at Andy. "What?"

"My mom said something weird last week about stuff. You know how my dad had that tumor?" When Gail nodded, vaguely remembering that from a few years back. "Well, he may have another, and he might need a new liver. Not surprising, right?"

"Honestly? No." Everyone knew Tommy McNally drank too much. Andy learned to pick locks to get inside when he locked her out, forgetting she wasn't home. Steve and Gail learned because they didn't get desert until they picked a lock... Parents.

Andy nodded. "So I mentioned that to Mom, and she said he should get on a list sooner rather than later. Like me donating wasn't even an option. And ... You're my honest friend, Gail. And Holly is the smartest person we know. So... If anyone would know, you would."

Blessing Elaine for teaching her how to keep a poker face, Gail sat up straight. "What did Nick say?"

"After all that shit with Finn last year, I didn't ... Haven't." Andy sighed.

Gail exhaled slowly. And she remembered what Holly had said years ago at Bill's funeral. Holly pointed out that Andy had blue eyes while her parents did not. She didn't say that, or that there was only a 20% chance Andy was Tommy's daughter. "I don't know." As Andy's face crumbled, Gail grimaced. Her friend wanted to know. "Look. Andy, there's an easy way to know for sure. You're both cops. Our DNA is in the system. So..."

"That is such a Peck idea. Did you background check Holly?" Andy was bitter and waspish as she spoke, and Gail understood why.

"No, but I think my mother did." Lacing her fingers together, Gail studied the face of the woman who had been her nemesis for years. "McNally, remember when I caught you and Swarek kissing when he was our TO?"

Andy blinked. "Yeah. Jesus, Gail that was a million years ago."

"Do you remember that day?" Immediately, Andy started to say she did, but then she stopped and stared at Gail, curious. "We have a lot of ways we can screw up being who we are and who we will be, Andy. And we can't let our feelings get between us and what we want all the time. But sometimes we have to trust our guts."

What she'd said back then was to be careful. Now Gail had more words to use to explain the depth of the situation. That there were rules, but there were always exceptions to rules, and always a heart to protect.

"Would she... Do it on the quiet?"

"If she won't, I'll find you someone." But she was pretty sure Holly would help them out.

"I'll think about it," said Andy at length.

Gail nodded. She rarely promised things like that. But, loathe as Gail was admit it, Andy was a friend.

* * *

"I'm not keen on this running into fires habit you've developed," said Holly as Vivian walked into the lab.

"Twice is not a habit, Mom," replied Vivian. "Coffee?"

"Thank you. Are you off the clock?"

Her daughter, still in uniform, frowned. "No. Should I be?"

"You called me mom, dear."

"You acted like a mom." The youngest Peck shrugged. "I'm meeting Kelly from Arson to check into the trash fire. And since the Chief Medical Examiner is married to one of the more pesky detectives, I thought some caffeinated bribery was in order."

"Do I want to know what your mother is up to?"

Vivian grinned. "Footage of the fire. But she gets to meet Snake so I think she's okay with it."

"If Caitlyn shows up, let me know," said Holly, smiling. "As it happens, I was meeting Kelly from Arson as well. He wanted an experienced eye, and I owe him a favor."

The cop rolled her eyes. "Losing the home run derby is not what I'd call a favor," but she held the door open for Holly as they went down the hall.

Kelly was always called Kelly from Arson, to differentiate him from Kelly the traffic cop and Kelly who worked in the lab. All three of whom were men. Then there was Kelly (first name) the EMT and Kelly (also first name) in dispatch. Once in a while Gail referred to them as 'Wanna Be Pecks' even though they weren't related.

Kelly from Arson and Holly had been the final batters in the softball home run derby that year, and Holly had lost by one run. He jokingly told Holly she'd owe him one lab favor. That morning he asked her to double check the arson case for him, that he had a bad feeling about it.

"Doc!" Kelly was sitting on a stool. "How good is Dr. Ury?"

"She's one of my best," replied Holly, smiling.

Vivian raised her free hand. "Hey, Wanda." When she'd done a summer working in the lab, most of her time had been spent under Wanda's supervision. They got along incredibly well.

"Hey, trouble. Did you really save Snake's life?"

"He was going to use an extinguisher... What was in the fire?" Vivian looked interested.

"Sand was the right choice," said Wanda, approvingly. "Check out the chemicals." She tapped the screen and pulled up the analysis on the wall monitor. Vivian bounced over, delighted, and started asking about various things.

Holly sighed.

From the stool, Kelly chuckled. "She's got a brain, that one. Still wish she went into science?"

"No, the way she runs around, she needed something active." Holly watched her daughter for a moment. That was the truth she'd known since seeing her daughter after the first week at the academy. Yes, Vivian was crazy smart and gifted. But she also was the kind of person who had to be physically involved in her job.

"She'd have made a great firefighter."

"Bite your tongue." But Holly smirked. "She'd be an astronaut or deep sea diver. Something adventurous."

"Man, I can't even begin to deal with that. Kids. Adult kids."

From the monitor, Vivian spoke up. "I can hear you, y'know." She shook her head. "Kelly, did you compare the scan to the one from the flop house?"

Holly blinked and eyed her daughter. "When did you look at that one?"

"Couple weeks after," replied Vivian, somewhat confused.

"The spikes here and here," said Wanda, tapping the display on the wall. "Check this out." She pressed some buttons on the keyboard and a second mass spec scan lit up. There was obvious overlap.

Walking up to the screen, Holly pursed her lips. "Put up the evidence we grabbed from the abandoned apartment, the fire on Dunn, and those other cases you worked on with Simmons, please." Her voice was quiet and thoughtful.

As Wanda did so, the screen became more jumbled. "If I highlight just that..." Wanda muttered to herself. "Okay, isolating the chemicals in all the scenes and... Here we are."

It jumped out. "Well shit," said Kelly, angry. "Why didn't we see that before?"

Vivian had the answer. "The fake garbage in the trash at Degrassi was uniform. It was the first time we could really see the oddities, without all the other crap. Trace."

Marveling at it, Holly reached over and changed parameters. "The first fires he was using the supplies from your dealer. After that... Wanda, isolate what you can and we'll search the database. See if he has a pattern or if he's using what he's got."

Kelly sighed. "I'll stick here, then. I can pull up the common supply list." He eyed Vivian. "Little Peck... You go work with Simmons. Tell me why the hell he'd torch a TV set."

"Maybe he was a die hard Charlotte Arnold fan?" Vivian shrugged, but she was already headed out. "I'll call as soon as we have anything."

They all watched Vivian truck out. "Man, she's way into this," muttered Wanda. "It's nice having a rookie who gets what we do."

That was true. "She loves her job." Holly scratched her neck. "It's the arsonist." She was certain of it in her gut. The pattern made no sense to her, but that wasn't Holly's bailiwick anyway. John and Gail would have a field day connecting those dots. Probably Vivian too.

"Probably," agreed Wanda, a little more circumspect and cautious.

"Who spotted that anyway," asked Kelly, tapping information into his tablet. "You or the kid?"

There was a pause before Wanda spoke. The pause told Holly everything. "Peck spotted it. She's got an eye for this stuff."

"She does." Holly shook her head. "Get me the science to confirm it, Maximoff."

Wanda laughed and turned to Kelly, talking about the results as they started to check things, and Holly went back to her office. She had enough other work and trusted her staff. Wanda was more up to date with arson investigations than she was, for one. If there was an autopsy, Holly was still one of the best.

But.

It was strange to think that her skills were not going to keep up with the technology. And that would happen sooner rather than later. Time was going to catch up with her and she'd be good but not great for the practical aspects of her work. The theoretical, well Holly still could think rings around the next person. There was a reason she was sought after to speak and publish and guest lecture.

The back of her brain was dwelling on her inevitable decrepitude as she finished up. The house was quiet when Holly got home, even though Gail's car was parked. Not always a good sign. Not always a bad one. Holly eased the door open and spotted Gail sitting on her yoga mat in the middle of the great room. There was actually low, calming music playing on the speakers. Interesting.

Closing the door quietly, Holly stepped to the stairs in the hopes of not bothering her wife, but Gail spoke. "Just finishing."

"Don't rush on my account, honey."

"I was timing it on your commute." Gail leaned backwards until she was looking at Holly and Holly had a delightful view of Gail's cleavage. "Hi."

"Hello," smiled Holly. "Nice rack."

"How was the arson work?"

"Well it's related to your serial fellow, so John is delighted." Holly paused, her mind wandering off the topic and into marveling at the fact that even though Gail was fifty, her breasts weren't saggy at all. She loved Gail's breasts. She loved watching sweat roll down between them. She loved how they felt in her hands, how it felt to rest her head on them, and a million other things. And right now, she could just see the swell of them under the sports bra, nipples hiding under the thicker fabric.

And of course Gail laughed, making them jiggle. "Holly, please confirm existence."

"Sorry..."

"Are you distracted by my tits?"

"Very much so," admitted Holly. Gail laughed again and straightened, her back to Holly, her arms raised high to elongate her spine and neck. Jesus. She was still so amazing. And Holly was still so gay. "I need a cold shower," she sighed. But hey, at least she wasn't dwelling anymore.

The blonde rolled forward and stood up. "I don't think that's necessary."

Holly blinked as Gail strolled past her, up the stairs and towards their bedroom. "Oh." On the top step, Gail paused and looked over her shoulder, eyebrows arched. The invitation was clear.

One shower later, Holly didn't have to rely on her memory of Gail's breasts. Or anything else for that matter. She mapped out the freckles and the scars, the stretch marks (because they were inevitable for everyone), and the very few hairs that were finally conceding to age and turning grey. Holly's hands lingered on the skin that was still firm and toned. Her wife never had distinct ab muscles, but her stomach was smooth and soft. Strong.

And as much as she loved touching pretty much all of Gail, it was reciprocated in kind. The blonde lavished attention on every part of her, with hands and lips and eyes. Gail adored her and wanted her to know it. Gail celebrated her and wanted her to know it. Gail loved her. And she loved Gail.

"That is much better than meditation," mused Gail, caressing Holly's bare back.

Holly, who hated meditation and yoga, hummed her agreement. "I should ogle your boobs more often." She closed her eyes, resting her head on Gail's chest.

Her wife laughed softly. "You have tacit permission to ogle me at any time."

"Noted." Holly listened to Gail's heartbeat and the deep, calming, breathing. The cares of the day had melted away into quiet lassitude. Limbs heavy, she relaxed and let herself drift in a not quite asleep sensation.

All too soon, Gail gently shook her shoulder. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get some food."

Holly sighed and oozed off of Gail, watching the blonde as she tossed something into the laundry. Probably their clothes. They hadn't really paid attention to placement on the way in. "Can we order in?"

"If you want. The chicken can marinate another day and be fine."

Chicken? Holly reached for her glasses. "What's the marinade?"

"Jerk spices. I was thinking I could toss it on the grill with corn and maybe toast some bread."

"How the hell do you have the energy for that?" As Holly groaned, Gail laughed and walked into the bathroom to shower. Lying on her side, Holly watched Gail and smiled. Life was good.

* * *

Her phone buzzed. Vivian cracked one eye and pulled it over, smiling at the message.

_Hey, movie star. Get me an autograph._

Instead of texting, she tapped the phone icon. "Hey," said Vivian as soon as it picked up.

"Hey yourself. Did I wake you up?"

"Nah, I was trying to pretend I was asleep." Vivian yawned. "My schedule's all screwed up, but I thought you had four on."

Jamie laughed. "I do, but it's quiet."

"That's good. No more set fires, please."

Morose, Jamie pointed out, "Not my Company. I'm so jealous. I would kill to meet Imogen."

"Really? That's your crush? Whack-a-do Imogen?" Vivian teased as she sat up and stretched.

"Hey, I was a kid!" Then Jamie asked, "Is this sleepy voice Vivian who just woke up?"

"Mm. Is my cranky voice a turn on?"

"It's kinda cute." There was a wistfulness in Jamie's tone that sent up a danger flare for Vivian. Because Jamie had not been there when Vivian had woken up. Because sex had still always been over at Jamie's.

This was dangerous grounds, Peck. "Christian made a point of telling me he'd be willing to skip out to give us some privacy," she offered carefully.

"Oh." Jamie sounded surprised.

"Or not. If ... You'd ... I mean, if you like it at your place, I totally understand that. I do. I just, you know, I have no idea what I'm saying. Sorry, stupid-"

"Hey, Viv?"

Vivian stopped. "Yeah?"

"You're adorable when you babble."

She felt her face heat up. "Oh. I get it from Holly," she offered, lamely.

"Yeah? That's cute." Jamie laughed softly. "We're on opposite shifts again, though."

"I know." Vivian sighed and rubbed her face. "I asked for a shift adjustment, though. I think Andy'll let it fly."

"That's so weird. You call your sergeant by her first name."

Vivian chuckled. "Not at work. But I've known her since I was six, so y'know, she's basically family." Really it was Nick who was family, and he brought his girlfriend along. But before that, Gail still had been friendly with Andy. "Imogen, huh? Cristine Prosperi hasn't been on set yet, but they only give me the day's sides."

"Do you get to keep them? Also how did you know her real name! I don't even know that!"

"I'm a Peck. We play memory games for fun." She yawned and rolled over to get out of bed. "And no I don't keep the sides. They just don't want us to get surprised when people shriek or cheer."

"Which is why you guys knew the fire was legit. Station 162 is calling you a bad luck charm."

"Bad or good? No one's died from fire."

"I kept out of the argument… Uh that sounded horrible." Jamie started to verbally backpedal. "I mean, they kinda have a point, but so do you, and it would look weird if I started just defending you—"

"Hey, hose monkey? I get it." Vivian grinned. She did, too. "And we'll still kick your ass at the next softball game."

"Oh seriously, you play?"

"Hello. Lesbian? Softball? Kinda required."

"I'm dating a stereotype," teased Jamie. "More serious note. Did you pick up the case or are you free tomorrow?"

"Picked up the case. They've got me looking for motive and guarding the kids who were closest to the fire." Vivian stretched and wandered towards her bathroom. "Wait, why tomorrow?"

"I was thinking I could swing by after shift, but I'm off at noon and you'll still be working, huh?"

Vivian grimaced. "Can I hate our schedules?"

"Toss in our cycles, sure. Not that I mind movie nights but..."

"Twilight not your thing?"

"Hah, I will never understand why you like that shit, Peck. I'm going to let you get ready for prime time. Call me if you get free?"

"Sure will." They hung up and Vivian tossed the phone onto her bed to wash up and wake up. She liked talking to Jamie, or not talking, as the case might be. They talked around things, touching on them, and then they were able to be content and silent. Hanging out with her was just easy.

In fact, that was how the conversations about themselves went all the time. Jamie seemed to pick up on the fact that she could, safely, ask Vivian questions and they would be answered honestly, if briefly. She also seemed alright that Vivian just didn't often offer up things without being asked, but the few times Viv did, the look on Jamie's face was precious. In return, Vivian found herself actually curious about Jamie's life outside of their shared social service. There were things she noticed Jamie would talk around, like why she wasn't that close with her parents, or why she and Ruby had been living together since they were nineteen.

Since there were things Vivian didn't want to talk about either, they seemed to be mutually alright with that. They didn't push to much when the other clammed up, even though she could tell Jamie really wanted to know why Vivian rarely stayed the whole night and, when she did, she didn't seem to sleep. When Viv joked that she was a vampire, and to prove it showed a photo of her pale, pale mother, Jamie laughed appreciatively and teased she was only _raised_ vampire because she was adopted. That led to a conversation about vampires and how they're all adopted converts because you can't be _born_ a vampire, which led to jokes about the _Twilight_ books, which led to Jamie in hysterics when she found out not only had Vivian read them, but she'd watched all four movies.

Actually all five.

The last one being two parts, see.

One date night they watched the first movie at Vivian's, giggling hysterically at the acting and the plot. It was the first time Vivian really recognized bits of Gail in Jamie. The firefighter had the same sarcasm and caustic negligence towards stupidity in people, as Jamie vented about how the movies just make people think that these one-sided abusive relationships are normal. In a moment of daring, Vivian asked about _Fifty Shades of Gray_ and was rewarded with an epic rant. But under the rant she detected some private pain. She didn't push at it, because that's not what they did.

What they _did_ do was 'it.' The sex was phenomenal. It was always at Jamie's since, even after moving, Christian shared Viv's schedule most of the time and managed to walk in on them on the couch a few times. On the other hand, Ruby was out. A lot. Jamie theorized it was the price of being a doctor. When Vivian had asked Holly about the schedule of a med student over a family dinner the month before, the theory was confirmed.

Shit. Dinner. Toothbrush jammed in her mouth, Vivian scooped the phone back up and texted Jamie that it was the Thursday she had dinner with her mothers. The amusing reply of 'D'oh!' entertained her. Damn it. One more night she was booked. And tonight was softball.

Vivian tapped on her phone and pinged Gail.

_How hurt would Mom be if I skipped the batting cages?_

Of course Gail's reply was amusing, teasing her about a hot date. But it also told her she was off the hook, since she'd see them at dinner the next night, and they both knew she had a case.

The truth was Vivian really wanted to see Jamie, but she knew she'd just end up working.

Ugh. No wonder her parents were always complaining of their schedules. And they had pretty tame conflicts. Vivian and Jamie's work schedules were positively insane.

"Hey, coffee?" Christian's voice came in from the hall.

"Yeah, please," sighed Vivian. "I'll be down in five."

"Cool. I'm done with the washer."

"Thanks." Vivian hustled into her clothes and grabbed her laundry. Her roommate was sitting in running shorts and tank top. "Did you already run?"

"Yeah, and you look like you're headed right to work?"

"Nah, the gym first. I'm on set from noon to close tonight."

"Lucky. I'm still on AV duty. How come you don't have to? You saw it too!"

Vivian grinned. "Luck of the Pecks. The actors asked for me." She'd been incredibly flattered that Snake had specifically asked her to stay on set. "Besides, Simmons can abuse my family ties." That was a double edged sword.

That was the unspoken burden of Peck, the thing Elaine had warned her of. Because she was a Peck, people expected excellence from her. Dedication, loyalty, though perhaps not honesty, we're all hallmarks of her name. And from that came the reliability of someone who would work the extra hours and monitor the actors of a TV show to see who was and was not the target of a killing.

Who would set fire to Degrassi?

Was the show the target? Was it an actor or maybe someone else.

Vivian frowned as the analytical part of her brain picked up and started to process the case. Maybe it wasn't the show at all.

* * *

Gail skimmed John's report. "I'm kind of sad it's not about Charlotte Arnold," she admitted.

"Pervert," replied her partner. "I've ruled out every single cast member though."

"Incredibly fast. You sure it's not some actual musician who wants Drake dead?"

"Are you _still_ mad that he left _Degrassi_?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "I'm mad he tries to act like he was never on it."

John snorted. "Well I'm sorry to say, Drake does not appear to be the target. Nor does the show." He had accidentally caught the angry letter writer, who turned out just to be an angry man, living in a basement apartment filled with collectables, who was sad the only constant in his life was ending.

On the other hand, after hours and hours of video review and evidence analysis, it was becoming clear that the target didn't seem to be the actors or the set. AV was still trying to figure out when exactly the incendiary device had been dropped into the can, of course.

Which reminded Gail of a case a million years ago, when she'd first met Frankie Anderson. Well now. That was an interesting idea.

"Hey, John, what if it was intentionally unintentional?"

"You lost me, boss."

"Well. What if he stacked up items that, when combined, self-immolate, but don't have to be added together like an IED or a bomb?"

John frowned and looked up at the wall, thinking. "Clever as fuck, if that's the case. Is that even possible?"

"Sure. We had an explosion in evidence back when I was a uni, happened because too many things were too close."

Her best partner looked delighted. "Oh I like that. I need more footage though."

"All my footage is belong to you." Gail waved a hand and watched John head out to hunt that theory down.

As much as she wanted to dig into the case, Gail had actual work to do. And in this instance she had to sort out the changes to ETF. The detectives would all have to move up to two. Which meant the Organized Crime heroes would all be up on three. All of that would work, except for one thing.

It meant ETF would be ready to open up and accept a couple rookies. One or two from each division. And that meant once she moved the detectives, Inspector Seabourn would accept applications.

Ugh. Probably not till January at the earliest, but still.

"You look like you need a drink," said Traci as she let herself in.

"ETF and homicide are going to accept transfers next year. Provided all you guys move up to three and the murder squad takes two. Which means applications start soon."

Traci was silent for a moment. "Shit. Already?"

Gail like looked up. "Which part is making you feel old?"

"The part where those kids will be trying to be detectives."

"We're doing the in-uniform shadow," promised Gail. That was what she had done by necessity back when she'd transferred to Major Crimes. It turned out to be a boon, getting her used to the work without shoving too much responsibility on her at once.

Traci sighed and sat down. "I wanted to talk to you about this mad bomber."

That was novel. "How'd you run into Safary?"

"That's his name?"

"He tags shit where he places his bombs. Or he used to. But he keeps a pretty low key right now."

Nodding, Traci leaned back. "That bomber earlier last year, the fake one at the zoo, that was his?"

Gail wasn't surprised at all that she got there. Her sister in law was as smart as they came. "It was. It was." Gail leaned back in her chair. "How'd he come up?"

"We were looking into possible gang sources for the fire supplies. Couple off things came up, including red flags on pipe bomb supplies."

That was an interesting path. "He's buying bomb supplies through gangs?"

Traci nodded. "Less obvious than keeping a stockpile or buying in bulk, I guess. It might be related. Who should I work with?"

"John, technically, but he's tied up on my arson with Kelly. Mind working with Chloe?"

"Not for years," laughed Traci. "Doesn't she work arsons too?"

"They may trade off. John has my three big cold cases right now. Head basher, arson, and bombs."

"Makes sense. Why tap Anderson? Or is she not up to speed on it?"

That meant Traci already saw the crime crossing the division territories. Interesting. It usually did, but that Traci saw it already was good. "She isn't, but get Chloe to spin you both up and let you loose."

"Works for me. I expect it'll dead end though."

"Honest? It usually does."

"What are you going to do about the ETF spot?"

Gail winced. "It's up to her, Trace. I'm letting her be an adult."

She tried to keep that thought with her as she got home to make Thursday dinner the next night, because that was when Vivian brought it up.

"Mom, is Sue really moving in to Fifteen?"

Gail sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "How did you even hear about that?"

"The guys were at the gym," explained Vivian, putting the groceries on the kitchen island. "So it's true. And that means they're opening up slots."

"Yes," said Gail slowly. "That's also true." She gnawed her lip.

Her daughter bounced. "So? Think I have a chance?"

"Viv. That's not my call, kid."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm asking my mom what she thinks, not Inspector Peck."

Gail sighed and leaned back against the wall. She took the time to form the right words. "Okay. Your _mother_ is scared shitless about it. I'm as terrified as when you actually did go to the academy, and when you put that uniform on the first time. And… I don't really think I can tell you _not_ do to this, Viv."

That seemed to weigh on Vivian in a surprising and unexpected way. "Mom..."

"Kiddo, I'm human. And I love you. And part of me wants to wrap you in a box so no one can hurt you, break your heart, god forbid shoot at you. And here you are, wanting to run into buildings and shoot people?"

Vivian shook her head. "Woah! Mom, no way!" She held her hands up. "I want to do the remote control stuff. Robots and defusing bombs. Yeah, I'll have to learn how to do all the other shit, but... Mom, I'm good with computers and tech and being cop. Isn't this the best place?"

Gail stared at her for a moment. "Which is why I can't say don't. You're right. And it's still going to scare me to death."

Sighing, Vivian looked down. "Is this one of those things I'll understand when I'm a parent?"

" _When_? Jesus, don't say that in front of Holly. I swear, she'll transform into her mother." Gail glanced up the stairs where Holly was ostensibly in the office finishing something.

Vivian had to chuckle. "Seriously… Mom. I think I could be awesome at it. ETF. Not the other thing."

Relenting, Gail nodded. "I know you will be," she said softly. "I've watched you for almost twenty years, Viv. You're smart, you're responsible. Your heart gets ahead of your head sometimes, but you really mean well all the time. You're a good person, and you're braver than I am. I _know_ you can do this."

When her daughter been cut loose, Dov had called Vivian brave. But now, hearing Gail say she felt Vivian was braver seemed at once terrifying and calming to the girl. Yes, here was her mother who saw something deep inside the rookie, the thing she'd hoped she was and could be. Overwhelming and yet grounding all at once. Could Vivian tell that yes, this was success felt like? Gail tried to express that with her eyes.

"Oh," Vivian said quietly.

Gail sighed. Good. She knew. "Yeah, I know."

They were still standing in the kitchen in silence when Holly finally made it downstairs. "I'd ask what you two are talking about, but I'm a little afraid…"

"ETF will probably have a slot open in the next few months," said Vivian, quietly.

Holly sighed and reached up to ruffle Vivian's hair. "Please cut your hair before then, okay?" Then she walked past Gail, kissing her cheek. "What are we drinking?"

"Pinot noir or a rose." Gail leaned into her wife for a moment. "Almond crusted halibut, sautéed greens, roasted mashed potatoes with the skin on for the kid."

"Rose, please," said Holly, and she went to get the bottle. "You up for that, mini human?"

"I'm taller than you are, Moms." Vivian shook her head. "Half a glass. I'm too tired for more."

Holly made a noise. "Okay, can I ask something awkward?" When Vivian looked up, the doctor leaned forward. "How cool is the set?"

While Gail laughed, Vivian kicked her calf and proceeded to tell them all about the set and how cool it was.

* * *

The body smelled weird. That had been the note Wanda left and Holly had to agree. For an exhumation, it was an odd scent.

"Did they use a different kind of formaldehyde in the 1900s?"

Holly eyed her assistant. "Brett, I will hurt you if you make it seem like 1990 was a long time ago."

Of course it _was_ getting up there. But thinking of her own youth as being 'old' was unwelcome. And yet it was more than half her life ago. Fuck, as Gail would say.

Brett held his hands up. "It smells... Sweet. Almost nutty. Like fruitcake. Diabetes?"

"Not after this long." She raised the table and began the Y-incision, explaining to Brett why she did what she did.

He wasn't her newest assistant, but he was the only one who had expressed interest in being more than an assistant. Brett was even still going to school. A year back, he'd interned with Rodney. Now he was studying under Holly for half a year. After that he'd get Wanda, and then another one of the senior MEs and so on until he sorted out what he was after.

Most of the time that kind of training worked. Holly had improved on it a few times since she'd been promoted. The Toronto forensics department had a higher retention rate than a lot of the other major cities in Canada these days.

"Okay, that's cool," announced Brett as they cleaned up after.

"Cool?" Holly smiled and returned the table to its default, not in use, settings.

"Yeah, it was my first exhumation! It's totally different, the way the skin and organs are cut. That was... Cool. Educational and cool."

Holly laughed. "Do you have any questions about it?"

Brett shook his head. Then he nodded. "So. It's a cold case, right?" When Holly nodded, he frowned. "Don't the cops come for these?"

"It's not like TV," explained Holly, pulling her lab coat back on. "The detective in charge is Sgt. John Simmons. He and I are very familiar with the case so he knows I'll call him if anything needs his immediate attention. Rather than waste his precious times watching me teach you, he's off investigating other aspects of the case. Most of the time, the police show up to watch for rookie training or if they think it's something particularly strange."

"How often does that happen?"

"Few times a year." And that brought a memory of a case of greasy, smelly bones, over twenty three years ago. Holly half smiled. "Anyway. This simply confirms a theory John and I had about a series of murders spread across ... Oh, a hundred years now, give or take."

Brett looked astounded. "The same person?"

"Unlikely." Holly ushered him out. "Now. I want you to write up a report on this. We'll compare it to mine and see what we get."

Her assistant eagerly rushed off. Holly texted John to let him know that the autopsy confirmed the injuries were as they had suspected. This was not a victim of their serial head basher. One more down, fifteen more to go, depending on when and if John could get exhumation warrants.

Holly grimaced and rubbed at her lower back. Age was catching up with her. Maybe... She pulled her phone out and tapped a well used name.

As soon as the phone picked up on the other end, the warm voice of Celery Shaw greeted her. "How's your shoulder?"

Smiling, Holly walked down the hall. "Actually it's my lower back." While she had hurt her shoulder moving a body more than once, it wasn't her normal point of pain.

"Oh dear. You didn't pull it again, did you?"

That had been the worst part about old age. Holly's back had slowly gone from moderately annoying and well into frustrating. A twinge here and there back in her 30s and 40s were absolute agony in her 50s and 60s. A few years ago, she'd slipped a disc opening a car door. Other than being horribly embarrassed, it had passed relatively quickly and without much drama. But after that, Holly found herself prone to backaches. While Gail was wonderful about massages, sometimes a person needed more.

"No, but it's starting to hurt the way it did last time."

"Did you try the oils?"

Holly winced. The oils were aromatherapy and the very idea of that made her skin crawl. "Yes. Gail rubbed it in the other night." As stupid as she felt it was, Holly knew the massages did help, and Gail was a godsend with them. And maybe, yeah, okay maybe the scents helped.

Celery made a sound. "But you need someone professional. How about... Are you busy Sunday afternoon? I can squeeze you in for a session with Kristof."

Tomorrow was Saturday. Holly had nothing planned Sunday and she was pretty sure she could survive two days. "That would be wonderful, Celery. I owe you."

The older woman laughed. "Holly, please. We're family. I'll see you at two PM."

It was useful, Holly had to admit, having Celery as family. "Thank you. Two PM." Hanging up, Holly texted Gail with the new plan. Her wife replied with a frowny face.

What she really wanted was a hot bath and maybe she could cajole Gail into another massage. Instead, Holly found the results of the full scan from the _Degrassi_ trash can in her inbox. It was another three hours before she had some kind of understanding as to what had gone on. That resulted in a call to John that their theory of items added one at a time to cause a fire was likely, and she had to call Kelly to present the plan to him as well.

That got her home at nearly eight, and the house was incredibly calm. It just felt and smelled calm and welcoming. Gail was in the kitchen with the steamer, working on something. "There's a hot bath, baby. Go get a shower and soak."

Holly exhaled and leaned against the door. "Seriously?"

"I don't want you to herniate again, Holly. Seriously." Gail put the lid on the steamer. "Your fluffy robe is clean too. Shoo. Shower, soak. I'll bring you some wine."

She took a moment to collect herself before going upstairs. This was one of the best parts of being married to Gail. Screw romance, pampering was the greatest show of love anyone could give. It did make her think she was slacking off a little though. Holly mused on that as she showered and eased into the tub. As the hot water eased the tension out of her back, Holly tapped on her phone.

_I need to thank Gail in a big way._

The reply from Lisa was prompt.

_Sex not cutting it?_

_Shut up, Bitch Tits._

_That_ _'_ _s Dr. Bitch Tits. I didn_ _'_ _t go to Titty Medical school for nothing._

_You_ _'_ _re a dick, tits._

_What_ _'_ _d you do this time?_

_My back, again. Yes, I_ _'_ _m going to chiro on Sunday. But Gail had a hot bath waiting for me and she_ _'_ _s cooking._

_Damn, I should have hit on her when I had the chance._

_Was that before or after you called her Blue Collar?_

_Fine. See if I help you sweet talk your cop._

_Damn it, Lisa!_

_LOL. Okay, take her out to a fancy dinner. Do you have tickets to the ballet?_

_We do not. Opera and orchestra._

_Perfect. Kate has tickets we can_ _'_ _t use. Surprise her with that._

It seemed awfully fancy though. She arranged for the dinner date though, since Holly knew Gail would love it. But it was harder to do little things for her wife. Gail was still, after all these years, stubbornly self-sufficient. All those years as a Peck punching bag had left an indelible mark on Gail's soul.

Holly sighed and put her phone aside, sinking into the water and closing her eyes. The door opened and there was a clink as a glass went down on the tile shelf. "You look more grumpy than relaxed," Gail said, chastising her.

"I'm a shitty wife." Holly sunk lower in the water, so only her nose stuck out.

Gail sat down on the edge of the tub. "You're not, you know."

Squinting at Gail, Holly wondered about that. She floated up a little. "You're always doing things for me."

Her wife looked confused. "Like a hot bath and dinner?"

"And a photo collage and massaging me."

"I like looking at you, and I adore touching you," Gail replied.

"I know. But you have all these... These little things you do that tell me you love me. And I don't."

Gail laughed softly. "You're here, stupid. You didn't leave me when you got scared, and I didn't scare you off being messed up. You stuck through my idiot family and the whole internal affairs case... You taught me how to be a better person, Holly." Leaning down, Gail kissed Holly's head. "Those are the little things I care about."

Sighing, Holly took a breath and sunk back down. Gail didn't say anything, not even after Holly came up for air. "Summer's over, huh?"

"It's August." Gail paused. "It's okay to just be unhappy, Holly."

"Oh." Holly sighed. "I don't think it's depression, honey. Doesn't feel like it. I just mean it feels like the bright happy days are ending and it'll start raining."

"I'm not sure what to say to that."

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Okay." Gail picked up Holly's wine and sipped it. As Gail put the glass down, Holly reached up and tugged her belt. "Hey! Don't you dare!" But Holly did dare and pulled Gail into the tub.

* * *

Watching Jamie sleep was oddly fascinating. She remembered Gail telling her one afternoon up at the cottage that she loved watching Holly sleep. At the time, Holly was lying on a blanket on the lawn behind the cottage, a book on her chest. It didn't make much sense at the time, but now it seemed obvious.

The brown haired firefighter was soundly asleep, the blanket sliding off her shoulder to reveal the smooth skin and curves. Jamie's mouth was slightly open, eliciting a light snore now and then as she breathed. It was totally adorable. Dorky, but adorable.

Sighing, Vivian leaned over and tugged the blanket up higher. There was only a half hour before Jamie had to be up and getting ready for work. Vivian was due on set in another six hours, and really should have been sleeping. Instead, she was at her girlfriend's apartment, and Vivian regretted nothing.

"Creeper," mumbled Jamie. "Do you ever sleep?"

"No, I'm part vampire." Vivian smiled and propped herself up on her elbow.

Jamie yawned. "Having seen photos of your mother, I'd buy it." After a moment, Jamie opened her eyes. "Four on."

"I'm working the weekend anyway." Stretching, Vivian sat up. "I'm going to head home. Get some laundry done. Bat nap."

The other woman laughed. "Bat nap. Cute. What scenes are they filming at night?"

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "I'm not supposed to talk about that." But Jamie gave her a dry look. "The last school dance."

"You'll tell me if Imogen's there, right?"

Laughing, Vivian swung her legs out of the bed and picked up her shirt. "Maybe. What am I getting out of it?"

Jamie tugged the blankets and made a cocoon around herself, snuggling in. "I'll let you see my boobies."

Vivian laughed. "I've seen them. Recently, in fact." Vivian pondered over her clothes. Shower now or at her place? Since she hadn't brought a change of clothes, it made sense to just get dressed and shower at home.

Behind her, Jamie was thoughtful. "I've decided I like your ass. It's really nice."

"I run up walls. Good for the glutes."

There was a pause. "That wasn't a Peck Joke. You're serious."

Vivian blinked and buttoned her jeans. "Yeah. Yeah, I do parkour. Free running."

Jamie sat up, still burrito wrapped in her blanket. "Holy shit. That's cooler than MMA. Can I come sometime?"

"Sure, but they will try to get you to join." Vivian pulled her riding jacket on and paused. "Four on. Four off?"

"Three off. Then three on again. Friday night? Dinner, dancing, d... dirty sex?"

Grinning, Vivian rested one knee on the bed and leaned in to kiss Jamie slowly. "This plan I like. And I'll call if Imogen shows up."

At eight that night, Vivian eyed the new script. Of all the people to show up, it was Shane Kippel (Spinner) and Adamo Ruggiero (Marco). At least it was cool to meet Adamo, who was the first regular homosexual character on the show. His character was back as a teacher and had been for the last five seasons. Based on what she'd read of the script, Vivian was sure that he'd be the principal and school superintendent Snake would retire.

It was oddly reflective.

It was very close to home.

On her break, Vivian sat with a burrito from the food truck and texted the photo of herself and Adamo to Matty. He'd appreciate it.

_Girl! He is so cute!_

Vivian laughed.

_It_ _'_ _s midnight, why are you awake?_

_Working on my new designs for La Traviata._

_Fun times. I_ _'_ _m watching people play pretend._

_Wishing you were with your sexy sexy fire lady?_

_OMG. Could you be more weird, Matthew?_

_So that_ _'_ _s a yes?_

_Fuck off._

But it very much was a yes.

Matty was the only friend besides Christian who knew about Jamie at all. And yes, Vivian felt guilty about that.

Of course, Holly kind of knew that Vivian was regularly seeing someone. Though that was probably not true. Gail _always_ knew that sort of thing, but she was generally kind enough not to poke at it. Since Gail had so few boundaries, she respected her daughter's if no one else's.

The family dinners like the night before was a scheduled event, too. They had agreed on the third Thursday of the month before Vivian moved out, which made Gail laugh and Holly blush for reasons that they never explained. Just like the cat metaphor, her parents kept some secrets of their past to themselves.

Not that Vivian didn't go over for dinner more often than that. At the end of shifts, Gail would ask if Vivian wanted to come over. Sometimes she did. Other times she didn't. The subtle changes brought of Vivian moving out became more obvious as the weeks turned into months, and spring to summer, when she did the dishes and her mothers sat on the porch with beers. That part was normal. They always did that. Except they used to always take advantage of the semi-privacy of the porch to make out. Living alone again gave them a different, easy sort of companionship where they have no rush or need to make the most of every second alone. When Vivian hugged them goodnight, she caught the look of undisguised want in Gail's face. Maybe her mother forgot Vivian could see her, but Gail was looking at Holly as if they had just first started dating and she couldn't believe her luck.

Vivian knew that feeling because that was kind of how she felt when she looked at Jamie. Even when they hit on the awkward moments of Vivian not explaining _why_ she couldn't sleep, they wanted to be together. Their schedules really didn't allow for much of it. Jamie had a set schedule, firm and determined for a year. Vivian maybe knew a week or two ahead of time, if she was lucky. That meant they made the most of every chance they got. It also meant that she was the most sexually frustrated she'd been in a while. She'd gone longer stretches of time without it, but there was something about knowing just what she was missing that ... burned.

So yes, she very much wanted to be with Jamie just then. And it didn't matter that they'd had sex earlier that afternoon. It was probably because Vivian knew it would be seven days before she got to see Jamie, let alone kiss her again.

Of all the stories her mothers had told her about their youthful romance, awkward scheduling had not been a predominant tale. Then again, this was as if rookie Gail was dating newly hired pathologist Holly. That would have been a wildly different story. Would Gail have dated Chris? Did that mean Chris would have died his first year? Maybe Gail dated Dov instead, stumbling along her way to humanity. That was what Gail called it at least.

A crash shook her out of that amusing daydream. Looking around, Vivian watched the crew hustle back and forth. Someone had dropped an expensive bit of technical whatever and was getting reamed out. The tech (lighting tech perhaps, based on what he was picking up) was shaking. Odd. Vivian had seen a lot of minor accidents on set. People dropped things, the kids ran into things, and basically life happened. But above all, they were professionals.

Tossing her burrito wrapper, Vivian walked over to the man as he picked up the broken shards. "Hey, can I help?"

He startled. "Oh. Oh no, no, I can't. You can't. You have a job."

"Lunch break." Vivian smiled the calming smile she'd mastered. The one that made kids feel at ease. Squatting, she pulled on evidence gloves and picked up a shard of glass. "Been doing this long?"

"My- my job? Or here?" The man was incredibly skittish.

"Either." Vivian tossed the glass into the box, just like he had. "This is my second year on the job," she added. "I still feel like I'm dead weight half the time." That was a lie.

He looked relieved. Like the comfort was something he could understand. "Yeah. This was my first big show. I've only been here four months."

"You like it so far?"

"It's all I ever wanted to do," he admitted, sheepishly. "I'm Hector. Hector Rivera."

"Vivian Peck. This is all I ever wanted to do."

Vivian studied the man as they cleaned up. He was a jock, in the way Rich tended to be, but also a little thuggish. Tattooed on his neck and hand, Hector's nose had been broken a few times. One ear was swollen. Burn marks on his arms were probably from cigarettes. But he also had fingernail polish, dark purple with sparkles. And there was a soft roundness to his body that spoke of a beginning of a dad bod.

"How old's your kid?"

He startled. "Three and a half. How'd you know?"

"The fingernail polish," she admitted.

"Oh man." Hector laughed. "I'm the tea party and tutu dad. Boy and a girl. Twins." The joy of parenthood bubbled over and he explained as to how both kids wanted tea parties, but they had to include Star Wars characters and My Little Ponies. Darth Vader rode a blue pony named Bubblewing.

The back of Vivian's brain made a note to tell Holly how much she loved the Star Wars toys. The front tried to figure out what had Hector so scared. He was a bit younger than she was, a high school graduate but not much else. So for Hector, a job like this was sheer luck and majesty.

Finally she led him to the right place as they finished the last shards.

"You know," she said as she stood up. "I love this show. I always thought I'd watch it with my kids."

Hector looked around. "Really? I always thought the kids got over shit too fast."

"Well they're kids. They're resilient."

"Not all of 'em. They shoulda had more bullied kids snapping. Not just Rick." He shook his head. "Thanks, Officer. I owe ya."

Vivian watched him leave and processed what he'd said. Based on how he moved, she'd never peg Hector as the bullied. He looked like the bully. But the name Rick... Rick Murray was the bullied kid who was also abusive, put a girl in a coma, and then ended up shooting the school. Her eyes drifted over to the parking lot where Drake's car was parked. Rick had crippled Drake's character.

What significance did Rick have? Was he the only person on _Degrassi_ who had lashed out after being bullied? Gail would know. Vivian frowned and scratched her neck. The dead were all dudes, guys who were like Rich and popular. Or bullies. What did they have in common besides that? Huh. What if Hector was the target?

Finding the head of the staff organization was mildly complicated, and cut into her lunch break. They had more layers than Gail's crepe cake (27 fucking layers of crepes piled up, with jam in between, and sooooooo fucking good). "Excuse me," she said, finally finding a thin, neurasthenic woman. "They said you were in charge of the staff. I was hoping you could help me out?"

The woman nearly snapped. She had that look. "I'm not a fucking secretary— Oh. Sorry, Officer ... Uh ... Peck." Her eyes widened. "Oh, if this is about Hector, I'm sorry. He's been tweaking since the fire."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "How's that?"

The woman sighed. "I don't know. He's my best guy for lighting pyrotechnics and suddenly that fire? Wigs him out. I guess it's the uncontrolled aspect or something, but ..."

"I was actually wondering if he was okay," admitted Vivian. "He looked shaken up. Shook up... Sorry, not an English Major."

That got her a laugh and a look up and down. An appreciative look. "Yeah? What do cops major in?"

Pulling out her deadpan, Vivian replied. "Engineering. Minor of criminal justice." It was worth it to see the shocked expression. "Pyro is pretty neat. You don't get a lot of call for that on _Degrassi_ , though."

"No, but he will. We will. We're picking up that new superhero show."

"That's cool." Vivian made a note to tell Holly, who would be delighted. She loved Ms. Marvel. "But I actually have a question... Do you have a copy of the crew schedules?"

Nodding, the woman tapped on her phone. "Sure. Can I text it to you?" Vivian recited her digits. "And if I wanted to ask you out for drinks after we're done filming...?"

Whoops. Vivian smiled. "Flattered, but I'm seeing someone."

"Well. If that doesn't work out, I'm based out of Toronto." The woman smiled in a way that reminded Vivian of Frankie.

"I'll keep that in mind." She lifted her phone. "Thank you. Good luck with your filming."

"Hey, whatever it takes," joked the woman. As Vivian turned to go, she called out. "It's Tammy, by the way. Tammy O'Malley."

Vivian grinned a smile she didn't feel and nodded. Normally she was what Gail called distressingly obtuse about women flirting with her. Certainly Vivian had picked up on this one but, for the first time in ... Well for the first time she could remember, she really didn't want it, or even feel flattered by it. Even when she'd gone out with Pia, when girls had hit on her she'd kind of liked it.

Well. That was something to think about later.

The schedule of Hector Rivera placed him right in the location of the fire.

Huh.

Tapping her phone, Vivian opened her email to forward the schedule to John. It was almost three AM, he wouldn't see it till she was sending for a few hours. Chewing her lip, Vivian typed out her thought. Hector was skittish and was planned to be in the area of the fire. He was a former cholo, by the look of things, and certainly a bully in school, currently making up for it by being his kids' perfect daddy.

But he'd also spoke. Specifically about high school. In a way that set off Vivian's warning signals. The ones from a forgotten foster home... What had their names been? Franklin and Debby Tupolev. But they'd been alright people, at least according to her adult interpretation of her childish memory. While Franklin had bothered her, Vivian could see now that it was just her fear of men betraying her. No. No it was the older kids, they'd pushed her around to establish the pecking order.

Kids like Hector.

John didn't need those details. But he did need to know what high school Hector Rivera went to, and could he find out if it the same as any other victim. She also laid out a theory that, _if_ Hector was the target, perhaps it was related to his school based on his behavior.

Likely she'd get an earful that rookies weren't supposed to have theories. But it was worth it.

* * *

Staring at the reports, Gail swore. "How the fuck did we miss they all went to the same school?"

"They didn't," said John. "Not directly. May I?"

"My tech is your tech." Gail sat on the edge of her desk and watched John put up his working suspect chart. The dead people ringed a mystery person with a question mark for their face, grouped based on location.

"We have a college and a high school and seven victims."

"Seven? You're including college boy? He went to UoT and was strangled in that stupid free internet, ID scam plot."

"I am. College boy also to the same college as our first vic from last summer."

Gail frowned. UoT wasn't on the wall. Queens College was. "Unpack, Simmons."

Her sergeant smile. "College is not the weird connection. Hector, the fellow your kid spotted, _he_ went to the same high school as Dale Taft, the strangled moron. But Hector's BFF was Marius Grey. Son of Wentworth."

It took a moment for the names to align themselves. The homeless man. "Hoo! Hang on, Wentworth was the target because of his son? And Dale?"

"Dale was just a coincidence. But enough to throw me off." John drew lines. "Everyone dead ties back to Hector's high school. Where he was a bully. Everyone dead was the child, parent, spouse, or an attendee. And all were connected to a bullying incident seven years ago, when the entire debate team had their lockers vandalized and paint dumped on them."

People never changed. Gail sighed. "How bad did it get?"

"A couple kids were beaten up. Not as bad as Matty had been," he said. John had helped 'solve' that particular case. A former gang runner himself, John often had an affinity for people who had been stupid.

"When are you bringing Hector in to find our unsub?"

"After filming. They're wrapping on Wednesday. No sense messing with that."

Gail pursed her lips. "Provided no one kills him between now and then."

"Ah, he has a shadow." John smiled. "The crew have been informed it's a threat against their company, and they're more than happy to have our rookies guard them."

Nodding, Gail studied the connections. "Do we have a list of everyone on the debate team?"

John tapped the keys and a list popped up. Faces of high schoolers beside their adult selves. Mostly women, five of them, and two men. "None of them were into science."

"Neither am I, and I know how to make a fire, John."

"You're a Peck." He shook his head. "The preliminary check has them all low on my suspect list." X's went through three faces. "They've moved, two to the States, one to France." That left four. "I'm starting checks on the rest, but I want to talk to Hector first. So far, no red flags."

Gail sighed. "Well. I trust you to your pace, John, but I really could use a good close. This year has been filled with some annoying long ends."

Her best fellow nodded. "I know. Arson, bombs, head hunters. If this starts to bear fruit, I'll pull in Price."

"Only if she's done with handing off the bombs to Traci."

"Good call that. I'm pretty tapped."

"It may be useless. That's such a dead end. And who knows what Swarek'll say."

"He's been grabby about it." John reached to wipe the screen and Gail asked him not to. "I'll update it as I go."

He left the door open a crack as he left, and Gail studied the names. Actually she studied the faces. A good detective could read the faces of suspects and know who they were looking for. What kind of person were they? Always Gail had been able to peg the runners, the criers, the reluctant, the ones who would give up, but only when she saw them in person.

Twenty years of detective work later, she could tell by their faces alone. The four remaining suspects were two men, two women. As teens, they all had the face of people used to punishment and maltreatment. None had records of systemic abuse. There were no strange ER visits or notes of bruising, which implied that there was nothing about their home lives.

Absently, Gail dismissed one of the women. She'd gone into historical research, writing history books. The look on her face was familiar to Gail, a nerd who loved her work. The other woman would likely be dismissed due to her job. She traveled a great deal and would probably turn out to be out of the country.

That left the men. John had already sent their faces to the recognition software, running it against the massive amount of video they had from the set of _Degrassi_. Gail absently tapped the screen, highlighting the paler, thinner of the two. There was something about his look that bothered her.

She tapped up his work history and stared.

Converting old gasoline powered cars to solar electric.

"Volvos." Gail swallowed and tapped John's notes on that aspect. They still couldn't make the igniter work the way Vivian had theorized. Oh the lab had gotten close, but the trigger had eluded them. In talking with Sue and the lab, the theory was that they were missing some critical ingredient that was getting consumed completely.

Which was why Chloe was digging into the supplies with Traci. If they could find a full list of supplies, something Gary the Meth Head didn't have, then they maybe could figure it out. Gail eyed the list of supplies. She couldn't make heads or tails of it herself, but it wasn't her forte anyway. What she needed to do was clear her head. Printing up a list, she shoved it and her laptop in her bag and went out.

John looked up as she passed his desk. "Want company?"

"No, I need to concentrate."

He nodded and went back to his files.

Sometimes getting her brain into the right frame of mind was harder than Gail wanted it to be. Gail walked down the stairs, trying to blank her brain out. She checked in at the range, kicking her bag under a cubby on the end, and checking her service piece.

Gail closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Every week since she'd been a child she'd done this. At least once, maybe twice, she came to the range and relaxed. It was better than meditation in many ways, probably since it was so familiar to her. The one family trait that had done her well over the years.

At some point between rounds, another person joined her at the range. Their shooting pattern was familiar. Gail sighed and, at the next changing of targets, leaned back and saw a tall form. In her delay, the other shooter leaned back and smiled sheepishly, signing a hello.

Pulling her ear guards off, Gail frowned. "Why are you here?"

Vivian pulled her own off. "Coincidence. Swear to god. I've been busy all week."

Gail sighed. "Oh fine." She went to re-seat the protection when Vivian spoke up.

"Wanna go head to head?"

No. She wanted to clear her head. But the impish smile on her daughter's face was irresistible. "Fine. Untimed, twelve shots. Best count wins."

That had been her first shooting challenge with Vivian. Never once had Gail _let_ her win. The scores had been close many times, and Vivian had outshot her mother on a few occasions, but never had Gail thrown a match. Not even when fifteen year old Vivian raged in tears in the car on the ride home and shut herself in her room. Holly had worried, but Gail knew the truth was that Vivian needed to learn there would always be people better than she was.

Of course, after that Gail entered her in a youth shoot, and Vivian mopped the floor with the competition. It was all about perspective. Now that Vivian was an adult, she was a more than passable shot, better than a good half of the officers, but... She wasn't a child who had disappointed her parents with a loss, ever. She didn't have the same burden Gail and Steve did in order to win. The pressure was different.

It was a wonder Gail actually _liked_ shooting. With all the crap her parents threw at her for it, she should hate it. Much like being a police officer, it was indelible. Ingrained. It was who she was, for better or for worse, and who she would always be. Gail was always going to be a little broken. She would always have dreams that reminded her of what she could not control. She would always carry the weight of her name, her family past.

That evening, Vivian gave her a run for her money. Youthful sharpness matched well against aging eyes. It was simultaneously delightful and depressing. How had she gotten old? As Vivian teased her about their scores, Gail wondered if her daughter found it easier to be, to exist, when she carried the name Peck. Was that Vivian's secret? That the weight of the unknown, the pain of loss, was protected from her heart by a name.

Maybe Gail should have taken Stewart. Protected herself from her own name?

No. There was only so far she could go. It was worth the rest of Gail's life to redeem the name she'd been born with, and that was that.

She thanked her daughter for the shoot, feeling no closer to answers about arsons or bombs or gangs or a million other cases that sat under her purview. Vivian didn't make a big deal about it, and stuck around for a little more practice on her own. That was as it should be. Gail had managed to go her career, thus far, without shooting anyone. She wished the same for her daughter, but both knew that the confidence that allowed one to not shoot came from familiarity and understanding. Perhaps Vivian would always know, more than Gail, the true nature of death. The finality.

By the time she got home, Gail was far less melancholy but still deep in her own thoughts. Opening the door from the garage, Gail blinked and felt quite dissonant. The house was clean. Sparkling clean, top to bottom, and a little damp actually. She took her shoes off and put them on the shoe rack. "Holly?"

"Upstairs! Don't look in the kitchen!"

Of course Gail turned to look. There was a mess half-cleaned. Huh. "Ooooookay. Can I come up?"

"Please!"

Gail shook her head and came up the stairs. "What's going on-" She stopped and stared at her wife, dressed more classy than normal. Almost court wear, if the court encouraged that much cleavage. And that sort of makeup. Gail's thoughts derailed completely.

"You okay there, champ?"

Jiggling her head, Gail fought for a word. Words. "Holly, I can't talk. I'm having a gay."

Zipping up her trousers, Holly smiled. "You should put away your gun."

Holly's hair was down in flowing cascades, curled just a bit, and she had on her fancy glasses. Good god in heaven was Holly her type. Gail was actually agog at her wife.

After a moment, Gail nodded. "And change. Clearly... Did I forget a date?"

"No." Holly kissed her cheek. "Spontaneity is the spice of life."

Gail swallowed and went to the office, stashing her gun and badge away. Why was Holly dressed up like that? Back in the bedroom, there was no Holly but two outfits on the bed. A dress and a pair of slacks with a shirt. Gail hopped in the shower and quickly shaved (as well as neatening up other things) before wriggling into the dress. She forwent stockings and simply stepped into shoes that wouldn't pinch, fixed her hair with a bit of cream, and slapped on the barest of makeup.

Thirty minutes.

And when she was downstairs, Holly had set up a rather romantic dinner for two. Candles and everything. There was no attempt to explain why. Holly just smiled at her, set out plates of chicken and wine, and sat across from Gail to eat. They didn't talk about work or children. Holly told her she looked amazing and asked how Gail was liking the books Holly's parents had sent.

It was calming and familiar and disconcerting all at once. Mostly calming. At least until desert. The desert blew her mind. A chocolate mug and handle, filled with some kind of cream. Creme freche? No. Something else. Something wonderful. "Oh my god..." Gail spooned into it and took a bite, her eyes closing involuntarily. "Oh Jesus, this is almost as good as sex, Holly."

"We'll have to see about that," said Holly, teasingly.

Gail looked at her wife and blinked. Whatever the hell she'd done to deserve this day, may she do it again.

* * *

Her plan had been to pamper, seduce, and lavish Gail with attention and adoration. That had mostly worked. Gail had drifted off, following a massage that became sensual and sexual and then relaxing, Holly had slipped back downstairs to tidy up. When she'd come back to the bedroom, a rumpled and satiated Gail looked at her with hooded eyes from the bedsheets.

That was when the plan took a bit of a left turn and Holly found herself quite willingly at Gail's mercy. She didn't really mind. She minded a great deal less when Gail's intentions were made clear and they both enjoyed themselves. That was how sex, how life was supposed to be. A balance between things, a sharing, and a bit of togetherness.

As she drifted off a second time, Gail mumbled that she'd no idea what she'd done right, but please let her know so she could keep doing it. Holly snuggled alongside her wife, smiling, and said nothing.

Sadly her other part of the plan involved sleeping in, and that didn't happen.

Holly's phone rang at two in the morning.

"Stewart," she said sleepily, pleased to find Gail still tucked close to her. They had a tendency to drift apart in their sleep, but often found their way back by morning.

"Sorry to wake you, Dr. Stewart," said Wayne, the head of her evidence lab. "But we got the trigger to work."

"Trigger?"

"For the fires."

The fires? Holly scowled and rolled to her back. "The arson? Wayne, why can't this wait?" She paused. "Why are you at the office?" He didn't do night work any more, none of the leads did.

"I couldn't sleep. And Clark figured out the order of the ingredients, based on the video. Using that, I was able to find the missing components, plural. We're missing the actual fire starter, but we isolated enough that I'm sure we'll have it soon."

Slowly, slowly the gears in her brain clicked and whirled. "You mean the components ... The items Chloe- Sgt. Price needs to know so she can pick the right gang?" Beside her, Gail stirred and Holly gently caressed her hair.

"Even better, we have a clear shot of the people who dropped the items in the trash... Is, um, is Inspector Peck awake?"

"No she is not," Holly said softly.

"Yes she is," replied Gail, grumpily, and holding up a hand. The conversation was brief, mostly consisting of Gail saying "Uh huh." and "I see." Finally the detective sighed. "Send it to Peck in Guns and Gangs, Price, and Simmons. Thanks, Wayne. Goodnight, Wayne."

Reaching past Holly, Gail put the phone back on the charging mat and rested her head on Holly's chest. "Break in the case. Five people dropped off parts of the arson thingy. Probably were asked to throw things away. Clear shots, so we'll bring them in and ask, narrow down who did it. John will look into it." Gail all but nestled in against Holly and sighed.

Holly stroked Gail's hair, closing her eyes. "Sorry about that."

"I knew your job when I married you." Gail yawned. "I was having this amazing dream that this hot brunette made me an amazing dinner and then we had a desert she got from a bakery I'm not allowed to visit. Didn't know they did deserts like that, by the way. But then, to cap it all off, some fucking fantastic sex."

Smiling, Holly toyed with the hairs at the nape of Gail's neck. "I'm glad you liked it."

"You're amazing, Holly."

"You deserve it."

Gail hummed softly and grew heavier. She really was like a cat. "I love you," said Gail softly. Shyly. Timidly. Like she was still expecting a rejection after all these years.

Not even Holly could erase the scars and fears. She sighed and squeezed Gail close. Saying the words seemed pointless. The words never seemed to make Gail feel any better. Instead, Holly caressed the nape of Gail's neck, stroking the bare skin of her back, down the swoop of Gail's spin to the base, around the curve of her hips and ass. The words 'I love you' might never be enough to quell the doubts that would always surround Gail, but maybe the words and the action, the proof of a promise, would help.

"I love you, Gail," said Holly, her voice a whisper.

Hours later, in the actual morning, she rolled into the office with an extra cup of coffee for Wayne whom, as she'd expected, was still there.

"Boss..." Wayne bit his lip.

"Drink this. File your reports. Go home. If I see you here before 9am next Monday, I'm going to be upset in ways that will involve a formal reprimand." She put the cup on his desk and then asked the question she didn't want to. "Wayne... I come from a long line of obsessive people. I married one. I get how this job eats you. So ... I have to ask this. Is everything okay?"

Her long time lab chief sighed. "I don't know." Wayne picked up the cup and sipped it. "There's something about this case that's just ... It's eating at me. The more I dig into it."

Obsession. It was like how Oliver told Gail there would be a case that cut at her heart, for the people in the labs, the cases were ones that kept them up. They needed to find the answers and the solutions. They had to be the ones who put the puzzle together for the police to make the arrests.

Unlike how the failure of cases hovered over police officers, the lab techs bore a weightier pain. Their work was on hundreds of cases. They couldn't get them confused or misplaced. They constantly had to be precise and exact. Often they had all the evidence in the world and no results, and it hurt. It was agony sometimes. And worst of all, they were expected to work normal hours and let go at the end of the day, never knowing the face of the victims. Except they did.

Holly sighed. "Wayne. This is why we're a team. Ananda is going to take this over, okay? When's Simmons coming?"

"An hour."

"Good. I will help her." As she spoke, Wayne's eyes lit up. "What? I'm great at arson cases. I'm going to go over her work, and you are going home to sleep. Do you want me to call your wife?"

Wayne shook his head. "No. No. I'll call her."

Nodding, Holly squeezed his shoulder and stepped out to the hall, listening to make sure. Sometimes being a boss was like being a mom. She had to cajole and lead and trick her staff into behaving. They needed to be shown how to be functional adults.

Absently she texted her mother, asking when she'd become an adult. It was three hours earlier there. Lily was probably sound asleep, enjoying retirement. In another ten or twenty years, that would be her. Retired, sleeping in with Gail, enjoying lazy mornings and long snuggles.

Holly pushed that out of her head and went to talk to her secretary, rescheduling her day and Ananda's so they could cover for Wayne. She made it back to the evidence lab just in time to read up on the case notes and how they'd changed in the last few months.

Still she was unprepared for the news, in person, from John.

"First, whatever you did last night, thank you and I hate you."

"You're welcome?"

"Gail is Super Peck today. She knocked out a cold case before her second coffee. It's fucking nuts."

Holly smiled. "Sorry, but I'm really fond of her."

John shrugged. "Second, do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Beside them, Ananda spoke first. "Bad." She turned to Holly. "Sorry, boss. I like shitty news first is all."

"Hey, it's your lab." As soon as she said it, the temporary head of evidence brightened a little.

"You nerds are all weird. Bad news. Our main suspect is dead."

Yep. Holly was not prepared. "Uh. Good news is you know who the firebug is?"

"Close." John smiled. "We had a theory it was someone bullied in a specific school. And of those kids, one was particularly ... Well, he was the kind of kid I'd expect to see in a clock tower with a rifle. He's been dead for a few years." The smile faded. Holly sighed and nodded. John didn't need to say suicide. "But! We caught the faces of everyone who dropped parts of the fire 'kit' in the trash. I'm making rookies follow them backwards through their day, recording everyone they interact with and take things from. And! We have found our suspect."

Without thinking, Holly said, "Caucasian male, five ten, wearing a hat and generic clothes?"

"Nailed it. But here is my good news."

Ananda looked surprised. "What? There's more?"

Beaming, John nodded. "Check this out." He held up his tablet and showed her an image. "So?"

Holly adjusted her glasses and leaned in to see a clear image of a bare hand. And falling from the hand was a rubber glove. "Unless we have that glove-"

She was cut off by John holding up an evidence bag. "Fuller found it. Matches the color and no one else on set had 'em."

"That is one fuck of a long shot." Holly was cautious.

"You're Dr. Holly Stewart," said John, the voice of reason. "You are Canada's preeminent medical examiner. You refined the lab here to the point that they made a damned TV show off of you-"

"It was a short series," pointed out Ananda helpfully. "Netflix." She stopped when Holly glared.

That stupid show was worse than the made-for-tv-movie about saving King Wills' life, when one considered the personal inaccuracies. TV Holly was straight, for one. And white for another. Stupid television. She'd filed a complaint and had her name totally scrubbed from the project, which turned it into 'based on' ... But the damned thing had aired three, short, seasons. Fourteen episodes of stupidity.

"The point! If any lab on the planet can get a print and have it be clean, after I had rookies dumpster diving for a day, it's you." He beamed. When Holly hesitated, he added. "I have a photo of Fuller covered in garbage."

Smiling, Holly shook her head. "One of us has been hanging around Gail too long."

Ananda laughed and took the evidence bag, scanning it in. "I want the photo. We have a collection." As John startled, she explained. "Every time you guys bring in evidence, we like to see how messed up you can make it. Fuller covered in garbage will be fun."

Sighing, John looks at Holly. "I think _all_ of us are hanging with Gail too much."

But he sent the photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I backgrounded some case development. The arson case is not actually on Gail or Holly's front burner. It should be, but you readers know things they don't. Like you know a writer bringing things up multiple times means something.
> 
> I had to quickly rewrite a little about Degrassi after "Degrassi: Next Class" season 16.


	18. 02.08 Bullet Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shooting at a ticket sale for a reuniting boy band ends with Gail and Holly meeting their daughter's girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the song, sadly. Also you actually aren't bullet proof. Everyone who wanted to know how Gail deals with Vivian getting hurt on the job, this one's for you.
> 
> As promised, all wlw who get shot will wear a vest and live to tell the tale.

"And that model, as you can see, demonstrated clearly that the long term damage resulted in a weakening of the victim's spinal integrity, resulting in the fatal collapse. Initially the breadth of injury to the spinal column was misattributed solely to the car crash. As such, the death was erroneously classified as pre-meditated murder when, in fact, it was purely coincidental. The driver of the other vehicle was convicted of involuntary manslaughter, and the car company was found innocent of all charges of negligence. Thank you."

The applause echoed through the room, including a hoot from someone in the far back row whom Holly knew was an excitable blonde.

"Thank you, Dr. Stewart, for your presentation." The moderator grinned as he walked up and shook her hand. "We have time for a few questions."

Holly fielded a few, fairly softball, questions cheerfully. Most people wanted to have elaboration on the tests Holly had done to reproduce the deterioration. A few others were interested in how the rendering had started with using the indentation on skulls in an unrelated case.

After that, though, she was pulled to the side to talk in depth with, of all people, the representatives from the job in San Francisco. From twenty-four years ago. That job. God, that felt like another life. They ended up chatting in the hallway for the next two lectures until, finally, a familiar voice cleared her throat.

"Excuse me doctors, but I'd like to steal my wife for lunch." A warm hand slid into Holly's, squeezing it, and tugging her away.

Once they were around the corner, Holly exhaled. "God. Thank you. They were trying to convince me I should move."

Gail made a face. "Please. When you retire, you can write for them up at the cottage."

"Oh, I like that idea." Holly grinned and bumped her shoulder against Gail's. "So. Lunch? Where's the good food?"

"How did you know I found the good food?"

"Fact check. Married for twenty years. You eat an incredible amount. You have good taste. The food here has been mediocre at best."

Gail laughed. "Fine. Fine. I got the address of, apparently, the greatest tiny Italian place. It's a train ride, though."

"Train train or subway train?"

"Subway. You in?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "You'd ditch me in Boston for food?"

"Honey, I'd ditch my own mother for good food."

Laughing, Holly slapped Gail's upper arm. "You'd ditch your mother for _bad_ food. I have a better idea. How about we go to this Italian place for dinner and eat somewhere closer for lunch, since I want to see this afternoon's lectures."

The pout was predictable. "You don't want me to have fantastic food?"

"Not for lunch, no." Taking a hold of Gail's other hand, Holly pulled her close for a kiss. "But we're not eating _here_ for lunch either."

Gail made a soft, happy noise. "Okay. I have an idea." She let go and tilted her wrist, activating her watch and tapping on it. "There is an asian fusion food truck down the street."

"Why am I not surprised that there is both an app for that, and that you have it?"

"You know, you don't have to eat with me." Gail tossed her head to make her fringe flip and headed out to the front of the hotel.

Poor Gail had been suffering through the conference too. It was all forensics, all the time, and while Gail certainly enjoyed it and got a lot out of it, there was very little of the work Gail did day to day. In general, Gail enjoyed cops and docs conferences. She'd even been convinced to speak at them on occasion. But this was not that kind of conference. Keeping her wife entertained had been difficult, at best, for Holly, especially since she was working.

Holly had four separate talks to give, this one being the third. The last was a panel with other doctors who'd made similar advances in science. And there was the award dinner that Holly was pretty sure she'd be getting something. She was, as it were, the belle of the ball.

Without a single complaint, Gail put up with it. In fact, she flaunted it. She celebrated how popular Holly was and showed her off at every opportunity. The blonde even went out of her way to make sure Holly looked better than she did at the evening events. Basically Gail was making it clear that she wanted everyone to know how much they'd been missing on all these years.

It was what Elaine had told her years ago. Gail loved all the parts of Holly. The silly scientist was just one more thing Gail celebrated about her. And Holly felt herself blush as she ran to catch up with Gail, taking her hand as they went out to the food truck.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

Gail paused at the revolving door. "If I tell you I'm learning things, will you make me come to more?"

Holly laughed, feeling bright and airy. "Honey, you have been proofreading my papers for decades. Plural. I know you know more about this shit than half the attendees."

"I like listening to you talk," Gail said cautiously. "And I love how excited you are about all this. And, yes, I am learning some kinda neat stuff. But. I'd rather be on a vacation."

Incurably honest. That was her wife. Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Well. Next time we'll get an extra couple days and see the sights."

"I was thinking a naked vacation."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Both?"

"Accepted." Gail grinned and tugged Holly down the street to the food cart.

They sat out in the Boston sun with their meals, enjoying the break. Could life be better, wondered Holly? Probably not. A good life, a great wife, good food, and sunshine. It was perfect.

* * *

"Does anyone actually like boy bands?" Lara kept gnawing her fingers, but this was the first question she'd actually asked since being appointed the lead for the ticket stampede.

That morning, Sgt. McNally (aka Aunt Andy if you were Vivian and not at work) had tasked the rookies with keeping order when the ticket sales for the latest hip boy band went on sale that morning. People had been camping out for days for it, once the word had gotten out that the sales would be in-person only for the VIP tickets. You stood in line, maybe you got a ticket.

"You're asking me? Do I look like I listen to boy bands?" Vivian arched her eyebrows at Lara.

"Your mother does."

Vivian grinned. "She does." Everyone knew Gail listened to boy bands after she belted out a hilarious song about a cute nerdy girl at the Penny a few weeks ago. It was the first time the masses had really heard or see Gail be the goofy Gail. One fantastic arrest where Gail herself had cracked the ringleader in interrogation, and damn it they needed to celebrate. A half bottle of tequila later, Gail was singing in public and more than half the rookies (male and female) were swooning. But Gail liked all types of music. "Stop chewing your nails, you're in charge."

With a grimace, Lara gripped her belt instead. "Why am I in charge? You should be in charge. You're a Peck, you're like, born to be in charge."

"You had the better arrest record last month." Which was because Vivian had been working on arson cases lately, after her run ins with the same firebug. Not that she really understood how a homeless man's cart, a drug flop house, and the set of _Degrassi_ were connected. But she was the rookie. Even being assigned to that sort of things was a thrill, you just had to accept that they did not always have arrests in a normal way. Not that Vivian actually cared about those things. She did care about the arsons, so Lara being in charge was fine by her.

Lara eyed her. "Do you still get any special privileges? Being a Peck, I mean." Her friend did not mean the arsons at least. Everyone knew Viv had earned those.

"No, and I wouldn't want 'em if I did." Vivian eyed the crowd and cleared her throat.

That was all it took for Lara to look over and scowl. A small group was starting to tussle. "I'll get that. You keep watch here."

"Yes, ma'am," smiled Vivian, and she walked back towards the front of the line.

A woman in a blue coat, about Gail's age, maybe younger, spoke up. "Excuse me. Do you know when they'll be opening up? The website said 10…"

It was almost noon. "There was a server glitch this morning," explained Vivian. "They were rebooting it at nine, but the last I heard it was still down."

With a sad nod, the woman texted something on her phone. "Thank you, Officer… Peck."

Vivian nodded back. "Hope your kids say thanks," she noted.

"Oh, they'd better, little brats." But the woman was smiling. "I like the boys too, but they will flip if I get them these."

"My Mom once stayed up all night to get us tickets to the hockey playoffs," confessed Vivian. She and Holly had gone without Gail, which was just fine in all of their minds. Vivian loved all hockey games, regardless of who was playing. She was terrible at playing it, much to Gail's amusement, but she loved watching it.

"Not today though."

Vivian grinned. "No." Even had Gail and Holly been in town, it wouldn't have been their thing. Currently, the duo were in Boston this week for a business trip where Holly was a keynote speaker.

The woman smiled. "Did _you_ say thank you? To your mom?"

"Oh, yes. But I was raised by wild dogs, so that's always a surprise."

They both laughed. "This old-school 'only in person' thing sucks," said the woman.

"Could be worse. It's not raining, it's not a billion degrees."

In fact it was a great day to be outside. It was sunny and warm but not hot. It was clear skies and the crowd wasn't too snippy. In fact, most were nice and polite and content to wait. It was a prototypical Canadian day.

Vivian turned and looked around. As a midday event, the lack of children was probably why it was so sane. Had it been screaming hordes of teenyboppers, she might have tried to convince Lt. Tran to use her again today. That stupid arson case wasn't solving itself. At least Sue was always willing to let Vivian help out, though. More since her little trigger thing panned out.

"Does it get hot? The vest?"

Blinking, Vivian turned back to the woman in line. "Oh, it's not as bad as the pants. I seriously hate whomever invented the cotton-poly blend."

The woman laughed, but the sound that registered in Vivian's brain was different. She knew the sound. Bullets hitting glass. They made a different noise than rocks or rain or anything else. Elaine had made her listen to the different noises when she was in college, ostensibly on summer vacation, to train her hearing.

" _GET DOWN!_ " Shouting as clearly as possible, Vivian grabbed her gun handle but did not release or draw yet, and waved at the crowd. "Everyone down!" The second round of shots hit the poster for the band behind her. Vivian went cold and hot at the same time. "Dispatch, 4727, 10-33, shots fired. Repeat shots fired at the convention centre."

The echo of her words came from all her fellow rookies, reporting the same. Lara was telling them to get people under cover. Where the hell was cover? Vivian looked behind her to see the bullet holes. She was by the front door. The target. Right, get them away from the door. "Everyone, try to stay calm." Looking up, she tried to figure out where the shooter was. What the hell was he aiming at?

"Peck! Can you see anything?" That was Lara, panicked and fighting it.

"Unsub's aiming at the front door." There was a flash of glass. The scope. A rifle. "Rifle!" There was no way in hell she'd be able to get a shot off that far away. Vivian holstered her gun and another shot whizzed into the posters on the wall where people were cowering. "He's aiming here, Volk! Gotta clear 'em out."

Her words galvanized Lara. "Right! Hanford, Fuller, get the back of the crowd out of the line of fire." Lara hustled over to help Vivian. "Folks, let's get you out of the way, okay? It'll be safer by the parking lot."

One absolute idiot started to complain. "Fuck you! I've been in line for two days! I want my ticket!"

The woman Vivian had been talking to spoke up. "Are you a moron? Get the hell out of here!" And she shoved the man, lightly.

Another time that would be funny. Vivian kept her eyes on the roof and saw the rifle move. Shit. She stepped in front of the arguing man. "Sir, come on, you really don't want to stay here." She half turned when the rifle report rang out.

There was a blank spot in her memory.

Oh she remembered everything, but it was like it happened to someone else.

One second she was trying to move the idiot out of the way. The next she heard a rifle, registered that it was the same as before, and a bullet hit her just below the ribs, knocking the wind out of her and sending her to the ground. All Vivian could think was a prayer to whomever invented Kevlar.

Then she panicked a little. Vivian couldn't inhale. It was like her lungs weren't working and neither were her ears. Her jaw went as wide as it could go, trying to suck in air. She clawed at the straps to her vest with one hand, her left hand, and tried to keep control of the gun in her right.

A face was over hers mouthing something... Mouthing her name. Jenny. Jenny was saying 'Peck' over and over.

Then a male body pushed in and slapped Vivian's face.

She inhaled with a painful gasp. "What the fuck, Nick?" She barely managed to wheeze out the sentence. Oh sweet mother of god, air felt good.

"Stay still, Peck. Stay down." His voice brokered no argument. "Aronson, secure her gun."

"Uh. The ... " Jesus her side hurt. "Man? Civilian?" Vivian let Jenny take the gun, holster and all, and tried to undo the straps on her vest.

"Hey. Vest stays on." Nick scowled. "If you have internal bleeding or breaks, it'll keep it in place. Keep her awake and alert."

"You saved the idiot's life," promised Jenny, as Nick left. "Just breathe, okay? Inhale. Exhale." She mimed breathing. Vivian carefully mimicked her, wincing on the inhale. Fuck. "Good. Shooter's down. Duncan took him out."

Poor Duncan. "Gerald," she mumbled and closed her eyes. Fuck it hurt.

"Hey, no, Peck. Eyes open. The bus is on the way, okay?"

Vivian squinted up at Jenny. The shooter was contained. Civilians were alive. Ambulance was on its way. "Copy," she exhaled. At Jenny's behest, Vivian kept breathing in sync with her. Her head was spinning a little, not from pain as she was pretty sure she'd not hit it, but the whole shooting felt like a daze.

"Jesus, Peck. You're nothing but trouble." That was another familiar voice, and it came with a paramedic's bag. Lunchbox. Heh. That was funny.

She eyed MacKenzie Maclean. "Hey, Mac."

"Your mother is gonna kill me."

Vivian smiled weakly. "Which one?"

"Both. You hit your head?"

"No." She inhaled to try and explain more and hissed. "Ow."

"Riiiiiiight. Stay still. We're gonna get you taken care of, Peck."

Not like she had any other choice. Vivian held a hand up and gave Mac thumbs up.

* * *

As she buttoned her shirt, Gail's phone rang. Work. Worse, _Andy_. Bleck. "Holly, are you ready yet?"

"I'm putting in my contacts," replied her wife from the bathroom.

"Must you?" Gail sighed and picked up her phone. She loved Holly in glasses. They were totally part of that sexy librarian thing Holly had working for her. "McNally, I have Italian food and a beautiful woman waiting for me, make it quick."

"Don't freak out."

Gail eyed her phone. "Andy, you're not making me feel calm. What happened?" There were a half dozen cases in progress, some incredibly complex and others dull as anything. The idea that Andy McNally was calling her about one was distressing.

"Vivian got shot, in the vest, she's fine."

Her world zeroed out. There was no sound but the thudding of her heart and the rushing of her blood. She couldn't think except that her baby had been shot. Gail barely registered that Holly took the phone.

Holly talked into the phone quietly, steering Gail to sit on the end of the bed. At least Gail assumed she was talking. There was no sound at all in her ears beyond her heartbeat, but Holly's mouth was moving. The hand on her shoulder was firm and not too tense. Whatever Andy might be saying, it wasn't terrifying.

The phone was put down on the bed and Holly squatted in front of Gail, taking her face in her warm, brown, hands. Her mouth was moving... She was saying Gail's name. "Honey. Look at me."

"I am," said Gail softly. "She's okay?"

"She's fine. They already let her out of the hospital before they called. Nick is taking her home. She didn't loose consciousness. She even didn't break a rib or anything. Hospital cleared her for all internal injuries." Holly gently brushed Gail's cheeks with her thumbs. "You went AWOL in there for a second."

Gail swallowed and nodded. "It ... It felt like when they told me you were sick." Closing her eyes, Gail leaned forward until Holly's hands were supporting her. "I'm sorry."

Soft lips were pressed to her forehead. "You want to call home?"

"She's not at home. She's at her home. She moved out." Gail sighed and leaned back. "I want to ... What happened?"

Holly sat down next to her. "She was working the boy band tickets. Someone fired into the crowd. John already got the shooter, I gather Duncan actually shot the man, but Vivian caught a bullet in her vest protecting someone."

"When?" Facts helped her.

"Around lunch." Lunch. So when Gail and Holly were enjoying food and sun, their child had been sitting in an ER, wounded.

"Why? What was the motive?"

"You'll like it," said Holly, smiling. "He was pissed off the band was breaking up."

Gail stared at her wife for a moment. A shooter killed, or tried to kill, innocent people just because a stupid band was breaking up. Holly was right. She loved the absurdity of the motive. Laughing, Gail covered her face with her hands. "Oh my god."

Beside her, Holly laughed too. "Honestly. Of all the ways that could have happened, this was the safest. Andy said she gets a week off." Holly held out the phone. "Call her."

"I don't want to call freaking out."

Holly looked at the phone and turned it over in her hands, thoughtfully.

It buzzed.

The phone flipped in the air as Holly freaked out and tossed it.

Gail laughed. It had to be the most hilarious moment she'd seen. Her athletic, coordinated, wife had spazzed the fuck out. As the phone skittered across the hotel's floor, and Holly dashed after it, Gail laughed so hard she cried.

"Shut up, Gail," laughed Holly, picking the phone up. "Your daughter says, and I quote, 'Ow.' Here." She held the phone out and Gail grinned.

"That was the least athletic thing I have ever seen you do."

"I said shut up." Holly sighed.

Gail took her phone, read the message, and texted back. Vivian was letting them know she had been released from the hospital and Nick had just dropped her off at home. Her plan was to order pizza and sleep. "Should we go home?"

"If this is your ploy to skip the end of the conference..."

"No. I just ... I think one of us should be there for her."

Holly reached over and cupped Gail's face between her hands. "Hey," Holly said softly. The strong thumbs brushed over her cheekbones. "We raised a smart, capable, brave, resourceful, tough as nails daughter. And she says she's okay."

"She's also twenty-four and an idiot." The phone buzzed again.

And Holly kissed her softly. "She's our idiot. Okay? What did her text say?"

Gail peeked at the phone. Then she closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Holly's. "She said it hurt like hell, but she was okay. The doctor said she was fine. Rachel and Lisa said she was fine."

"Then I think we should go to dinner, honey. Your blood sugar is shot to fuck after that and you're going to have a migraine if you don't eat."

Damn it, Holly had a point. "Can I call her after dinner?"

There was another soft press of lips to her own. For a moment, Gail forgot the question and the terror. She was worried, but not horribly so. "Yes. Text her now. Call Viv after dinner."

And Holly let go of Gail's face, crossing the room to find something for dinner. "Holly... Why are you so calm?" Gail tapped in a quick message for Vivian that she loved her, and would call after dinner so please eat.

The doctor sighed. "Because. Because this I can handle. This is normal for our girl, Gail. She's a cop. She gets into danger. And I have spent the last 18 years getting ready to stomach this."

Gail frowned. "I don't like that I brought you to days like this, Holly."

"Nor do I, honey." Holly turned, tucking her shirt in. "I hate it sometimes. But I'm a cop's wife, and a cop's mother. And I know our daughter isn't alone, no matter where we are, because _you_ filled her life with people who have her back."

"I did?" Gail felt surprised.

"You did. Everyone, including Oliver, is going to check in on her and you know it. Your friends will take care of our daughter."

Friends. That wasn't how she felt about then twenty years ago. Sometimes Gail didn't think of them like that now. But they were good friends, and they would check on Vivian. As Holly disappeared into the bathroom, Gail texted three people, asking them to check in with Viv and make sure.

Of course, Oliver would go on his own anyway, but it was polite to ask.

Gail changed her shirt and let Holly drag her out to the delicious dinner she'd been looking forward to all day, trying not to feel too terrible. Did her parents feel guilty, being away when she'd been kidnapped? Did Elaine regret it?

Before they got back to the hotel, Gail texted her mother first and asked her to check on Vivian please. Oliver had apologized, swearing he'd go as soon as he was back from visiting his in-laws. Steve had stopped by with pizza for Vivian, and said he swore at her and she'd returned the favor. That left Elaine who had not replied.

Where was her mother?

For a long time Gail stared at the phone, sitting on the hotel chair. Then she finally tapped Vivian's number. "Hi, Mom, I'm fine." Her daughter sounded exasperated already.

Weirdly, it lifted a load off her shoulders.

* * *

Everyone and their mother wanted to check on her. Including her mothers, who were still in Boston for a conference and vacation. "Mom, I'm _fine_ ," she insisted to Gail, who had asked for the fifth time.

"We can get a flight out tonight, Viv."

"Please don't," pleaded Vivian. "I didn't even break a rib. Okay? The bullet hit my vest, it knocked the wind out of me. Mac cleared me on the scene, Aunt Rachel saw me at the hospital, I had x-rays, an ultrasound on my spleen, and they practically kicked me out for being too healthy. Lisa was pissed she couldn't do any plastics on me. Please, just stay in Beam Town."

"Bean," corrected Gail. "Viv, I just... You were shot. And I promised you I'd be there for you in shit like this, no matter what—"

"Mom, you are! You had Andy and Nick and Dov, all your friends, Uncle Steve, Aunt Traci, Jesus even Noelle came by. _Everyone_ has been here. I told you, I'm okay."

"Damn it, you're _not_! Don't even try to be super Peck, okay? I know how shitty it is to go through this without family."

"But I'm not! You guys gave me a huge extended family, and everyone has been here to check on me." She could hear Gail about to protest and Vivian cut her off again. "Will you please put Mom on?"

Grumbling, Gail handed the phone over and someone knocked on the door. "I got it," Christian announced, running through in his jeans, barefoot, with no shirt.

"Christian! Shirt!"

Her mother sighed on the phone. "I promise to sit on Gail, honey. She's just not used to this."

"Sorry," sighed Vivian. "Used to what?"

"Used to someone she loves being in danger like that." Holly was so resigned it was painful.

"I'm sorry." Vivian felt terribly guilty. She hadn't thought about the stress that her being a cop would put on her mothers. Not enough at least.

"No no. It's fine. It's just my normal now. I'll calm your mother down, and Elaine too if I have to."

Vivian looked over at the door and groaned. "She's here now, want to talk to her?" Holly made an unhappy noise and announced she did. "Hi, Elaine. Here's Holly." Vivian pressed the phone into her grandmother's hand and stomped into the kitchen.

With a t-shirt on, Christian cleared his throat. "Why is your family freaking out so much?"

"I don't know," she lied. She really was fine, if a little rattled and sore. But Gail, whose parents hadn't even visited her in the hospital after she'd been kidnapped, had issues with not being there for Vivian. It was like her appendix all over again. "I _am_ fine, Christian. You can go to work."

Her roommate looked flustered. "It's just... If I was shot, you'd stay."

She snorted. "No I wouldn't. Look." Vivian lifted her shirt and showed off the bruise. "It looks bad, but really it's not that horrible." Squinting, Christian didn't look convinced, but the door rang again. "Shit. If it's Uncle Oliver, tell him I'm asleep?"

"You're lucky I like you, Peck." When he opened the door, though, the first thing he said was, "Come on in."

"Traitor," she growled and looked over to see the dark brown hair and eyes of Jamie McGann. "Oh. Hi," she muttered. Her girlfriend. Her still pretty brand new girlfriend, whom they'd just decided, over a pint of ice cream at Jamie's that they were actually girlfriends, girlfriend. Of course she was here. And Vivian recognized the look. She should have called Jamie already.

Jamie looked at the window seat, where Elaine was on the phone talking quietly. Then she looked at barefoot Christian. "I can come back later," Jamie started.

"No, no, you're, um. Please. Stay." Vivian pulled two beers out. "Christian, go away." The man vanished into his room, smiling.

"Who?" Jamie gestured at Elaine, confused.

"Oh." Vivian cleared her throat and looked at her grandmother. Of course Elaine was paying attention and held up a finger. With a final promise to the phone, Elaine hung up and tossed the phone back over. "Thanks. Um. Elaine, this is Jamie McGann. Jamie, this is Elaine Peck. My grandmother."

There was a pause before Jamie held out her hand. "You call your grandmother by her name? Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Elaine shook the hand. "She called me Miss Elaine for years. I consider it an upgrade. And you are a … friend?"

Oh, how many layers Elaine managed to put in that word. There was no way to keep it quiet now. At least she didn't make a fireman dig, but Jamie didn't look like a fireman, so maybe she could skate out of that one. "Yes," nodded Jamie, slowly and not particularly happily. "I wanted to check on her. But if family's here-"

"Oh no," Elaine shook her head. "I'm leaving, lest her mother yell at me again. Holly is sitting on Gail, by the way."

Vivian exhaled. "God thank you. I'm _fine_ , really."

"You're not," tsked Elaine. "But you don't want us smothering you." She took an arm's length hold of Vivian and nodded. "Call me if you _need_ anything, alright?"

"Alright," Viv promised, and she put up with a rare hug from her grandmother (who whispered that Jamie was cute). Elaine never hugged Gail, not even now, but Vivian had been special, it seemed. After Elaine left, Vivian sighed and kicked the ground. "Well. This is awkward."

"You think?" Jamie was mad at her. It was understandable.

"Everyone on the damned planet's been calling or stopping by," whinged Vivian. "I'm sorry. I didn't have a chance to —"

"To call your _friend_?" There was a moment of bitterness. Justified too.

Vivian put the beers down and grimaced. "I haven't talked to my moms about you, Jamie. God help me, I did not want to tell Elaine first. She's probably off to run a background check on you."

"Funny," snarled Jamie. When Vivian shrugged, the firefighter looked surprised. "Shit, you're not kidding, are you?"

"I'm really not." Vivian leaned against her kitchen island. "Elaine's the former staff superintendent of the whole damn force. She was in charge of IA when she retired." Jamie's face went a little pale. "I'm totally going to get shit from my Moms," she realized, belatedly. Damn it.

They were interrupted again, this time by Christian who bustled through with his gear slung over a shoulder. "Jamie are you staying? Because the bullhead moron there keeps swearing she's okay and she's an idiot."

Jamie crossed her arms and hesitated. "Am I?"

Ugh. Personal talk was so awkward. She nodded at Jamie and pushed the words out. "I'd like it if you stayed."

Jamie nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I got this, Christian." But they stood in the living room, the coffee table between them, silent and awkward. Tense. Christian, sensing danger, muttered that Viv should get some rest and left.

Okay. So what would Gail say right now if she'd forgotten to tell Holly about something dangerous? She'd apologize. "I should have called you," said Vivian, locking the door. "I'm sorry."

"No kidding," Jamie snarled. "I found out from my own station. Fucking MacLean asked me. 'Don't you know the patrol Peck at Fifteen? She got shot.' For fuck's sake, Viv! I had Ruby check if you were still at the hospital."

She was really batting a thousand there. Vivian pushed her hands through her hair and struggled to find something to say, because it would be inappropriate to laugh about how they called her the Patrol Peck of Fifteen. "I am sorry," she repeated. Should she mention she hadn't called her mothers either? No.

"I like you, Viv," sighed Jamie, hunching her shoulders. "You're smart and funny and sexy as hell, but god, you are the hardest person to get a sentence out of sometimes."

That was nothing new. Vivian still did that with her parents. "It's not you, Jamie," she started and winced. "God that sounded horrible."

"Just a bit, yeah." Jamie's jaw was set in a firm, very annoyed, line. "You don't want to talk about yourself. Ever."

"No, I really don't," admitted Vivian. She wanted to stop there but she knew it was now or never. Shut up and repeat every single failed relationship since she was 18, or speak and say something. Anything. She took a deep breath and pushed the words out. "I've been seeing a therapist for twenty years," she managed. "I know I'm bad about talking about myself."

Both of Jamie's eyebrows raised, her brown eyes widening in a little surprise. "That's a long time to be in therapy," she said quietly.

Vivian pushed off the counter and snatched one of the beers. "They make you see one when you're in the system." Swallowing a dry throat, Vivian popped the beer and took a long drink. It was cold and she felt like it was keeping her face from getting too hot just then. "Before I was adopted, I was a foster kid."

Hesitating a moment, Jamie picked up a beer off the table and opened it. "Still, though." Her voice was curious and careful. "Even now?"

She flipped the bottle cap between her fingers for a moment. "It's complicated. It's stuff before my Moms, and it's not like I don't know I'm screwed up, Jamie, I just … Have you ever had words just _die_ in your mouth?"

And Jamie, thank god, nodded. "Sure. Coming out to my granddad. Jesus, that was hard. He still thinks bisexual means I'm playing around or something."

"Well it's like that," she exhaled, sitting down. "It's not like I don't want to talk about it. I mean, I don't. I wish it was just something I could ignore." Which never helped, she'd come to realize. "But even when I do, I have a hard time saying anything."

"So you just shut up," realized Jamie. "You must drive your Moms insane."

Vivian smiled tiredly. "They're really good at pulling me out. That's why I lived at home so long." That and Gail's cooking. She missed that. "If you really want to be spooked, this is way better than I was in high school."

But Jamie gave her a sad, sorry look. It wasn't quite the look people got when they found out about the other stuff, and it wasn't really annoying. The look people wore when they saw the sad foster kid galled her. This was something else. Something Vivian didn't really recognize. "This is why your family's all over hyped and checking with you?"

That wasn't the question she'd expected. Vivian grimaced, "They worry about me."

Jamie sighed, exasperated. "You know, I'm trying here, Viv. I get that it's complicated and you don't want to talk about it, but … it's like you don't trust me."

Vivian blinked. How did it get over there? "It's—" She stopped, her tongue froze on it's own and Vivian dug a fingernail into her hand. Nope. That wasn't helping get the words out. "It's not trust, Jamie."

"How come you haven't told your moms about me?"

Leaning back against the couch, Vivian looked at the ceiling. She could answer that one. "Because you're a fireman and my Mom's prejudiced, so I'm trying to break it to her gently."

"Wait, which Mom are you talking about?"

"Gail. It's a Peck thing. I have a couple relatives who are firemen. I mean really related. Not like people who have the same last name, Jamie. We're family who do barbecues together."

Jamie scrunched up her face in the way Vivian found adorable. "Shay. She's really your aunt? That wasn't a joke?"

"No joke. And she's my cousin. Once removed or something." Vivian tucked her legs up underneath her.

"My fucking boss is your cousin?" When Vivian nodded, Jamie scowled. "How the hell can she be so calm about you being shot at?"

"We're all cops," sighed Vivian. So Shay knew she'd been shot too. Awesome. "Except Shay and a couple accountants. But everyone rags on the firemen."

"That actually makes sense. Shay always says her family thinks she's the reject." Jamie frowned. "You think your Moms won't like me?"

"I don't want ... Gail can be really intense. I don't want her to be... I don't want her to be all 'Gail' on you." After making air quotes around her mother's name, Vivian sipped her beer. "Holly's more relaxed," she added thoughtfully.

"That wasn't what I asked."

Vivian hesitated. "I think they'll like _you_. I don't know if they'll like your job."

"That's nothing new." Jamie kept frowning and sipped her beer. "You're not broken," she finally said. "You're very odd, but you're not broken."

She couldn't get away with not explaining it. "I know." Vivian paused and came to an abrupt realization. It didn't feel like a massive hurdle to get the words out. Suddenly it was easy to say some of the words. To tell Jamie about the shooting the year before, which she hadn't even told Matty about and they talked about almost everything. Just not death. She could start with something simple. "My Moms are freaking out because they're worried I'm going to have flashbacks."

The other woman paused, her beer halfway to the table. "Flashbacks." Much like Gail, Jamie didn't ask questions when she was sure she heard something right, she just repeated the word she wanted elaboration on. It was familiar.

Familiar helped a lot. "A year ago, I was on a domestic and a guy blew his head off with a rifle-gauged handgun," she explained. Vivian hugged a knee to her chest. "Right in front of me. He just swung the gun up and ..." The rest of the words died on her tongue. The last thing Vivian wanted to do was explain her birth parents. And yet. "That was how my... Uh." She waved one hand by her face. Say it. Vivian swallowed and said in a rush. "That's how my birth father died."

Jamie was silent for a moment. It didn't make Vivian nervous, weirdly enough. This was a woman who spent her days running into buildings on fire. Jamie was used to a little danger and insanity, and kept calm under pressure. But she asked something unexpected. " _Are_ you having flashbacks?"

She wanted to know if Vivian was okay.

She didn't ask what they were or any details. She asked about Vivian.

God.

That felt comforting. It felt like when Gail would hug her. Or when Holly held Vivian in her lap and let her wear herself out crying because Gail was missing. It felt safe. A little disconcerting and disorienting, but in a good way. The world had shifted itself for Vivian, and she wasn't quite sure how that had happened.

Vivian nodded and then shook her head. "No. Not yet at least." All she'd thought about when she was shot was how much it hurt, and how ballsy Andy was, who'd been shot and stabbed and insisted on working. The only reason she thought about her birth parents at all was because Gail had asked about it.

Jamie looked at her quietly. "Well. That sucks."

And Vivian laughed softly. "Yeah, yeah it does."

Kicking the ottoman over, Jamie let her knee bump into Vivian's quietly. "I'm sorry. About your Moms being overprotective."

"I get it," admitted Vivian. "But they drive me nuts sometimes."

"They love you."

She knew that. Her parents were amazing. "They do." Vivian nodded. "I'm just ... I really have a hard time talking about myself."

"Even when you get shot?"

"Apparently."

Jamie studied her face. "I wish I could see what was going on in your head, Viv," she sighed. Then she put a hand on Vivian's knee. "Okay. Serious question. Are you really okay?"

That was such a loaded question. On oh so, so, many levels of that question was her answer a big fat no. "I think so," she replied slowly. "Physically, yes."

And Jamie reached over and cupped her chin in a hand, studying her face. "Yeah. Okay." She leaned in and kissed Vivian softly before taking her hand back to rake through her own hair. "You look like your normal, weird, introverted self."

"Sorry," sighed Vivian. "Are we okay?"

"I think so," mused Jamie. "I mean, I have no idea what we are half the time."

Vivian closed her eyes for a moment. Then she squinted at Jamie, "I thought we were dating." She knew she liked Jamie. She was fun and smart and fit. The fit caught her eye but the smart was why she accepted when Jamie her out for a drink. But to say it was something more, like love, was weird and crazy and Andy levels of rushing into things. "I like you, Jamie. And ... God, I hope I'm not sending mixed messages or something stupid, but I _do_ like you. A lot." She reached over and took Jamie's hand, worried. The fireman squeezed her hand back.

"I like you too. A lot. But you're a little messed up," Jamie pointed out. "You don't trust people not to hurt you."

"I trust you," Vivian said before the words really processed in her head. When Jamie looked surprised, Vivian sighed. "I do. You— you're not looking at me like I'm some sad, screwed up, little girl."

Jamie screwed her face up. "Oh. Yeah, okay, people are fucked up. But I think you're pretty awesome. And ... _**I**_ would like to say we're girlfriends."

"Aren't we? I thought we already had that conversation." They'd had it over ice cream at Jamie's, when her adorable firefighter girlfriend had babbled worthy of Holly and Vivian had suddenly understood why Gail always cut her off with a kiss.

They looked at each other for a moment. Jamie was a bit incredulous, while Vivian was slightly confused. Then Jamie laughed. "Except for the part where you apparently haven't told anyone about that, yeah."

A series of very 'Gail' responses ran through her head, all inappropriate, before Vivian smiled and let her inner Holly reply. "We are. And I told C and Matty. And if it matters that much, I'll tell Moms when they call me tomorrow. And Oliver, and anyone you like. Just... do I have to right now? Because you're here and I'm sorry and ... can't we eat pizza and watch something stupid?"

Jamie's smile was a little abashed and delighted and shy. Happy. Jamie was happy. Good. That was the right thing to say. And Jamie's face softened. "You're not just saying all that to make me feel better, are you?"

Vivian smiled tiredly. "I'm not. If I was trying to make you feel better, it'd be some sob story about how I've never talked to anyone who aren't my parents about how I'm feeling." And Jamie seemed to accept that. "I just... I know my therapist will have a field day with this one, but I just want to hang out with you and maybe make out, have dinner, and watch some show where people are being evil or stupid to each other and we can laugh at them."

She wanted what her mothers did every time they had a phenomenally crap day. Gail would sulk until Holly toyed with her hair and turned on a mean cooking show. Holly would twitch until Gail hauled her into her arms and turned on sports. Most of the time they'd stop watching the show and start kissing instead, which was both annoying and sweet. Sometimes they'd start fiddling with the other's ring, smiling.

Her parents were hopelessly in love, though. It was way too much to hope for something like that without the constant effort she saw her parents putting into their relationship. And it wasn't like Vivian felt like cuddling. She just wanted to **be** with Jamie for a while. Exist.

Getting up, Jamie took off her coat. "Fine, but we're ordering food first. That pizza is crap."

* * *

It was seven in the morning when Gail called home, against Holly's recommendation. "Why did I have to find out you have a _girlfriend_ from my mother?"

Holly glanced over at Gail and sighed. It had taken hours of negotiations to convince Gail that haring off home to hover over their daughter would be worse. Vivian was not Gail. Gail needed support in person. Vivian, weirdly, did not. Vivian liked to process and then ask for support. Gail would never ask, but desperately want. "Gail Peck, stop it."

Predictably, Gail stuck her tongue out and ignored Holly, listening to the phone carefully. "Okay, fair enough. I'm still hurt. What's her name?"

Sighing, Holly gave up and got out of bed. It was the second to last day of the conference, but nothing was scheduled until ten that morning. She picked up the schedule and glanced at it. Oh, there was morning yoga soon. "Gail, we're going to yoga," she announced.

"What?" Her wife looked surprised. "Oh. No, not you, Monkey. Your mom's making me go to yoga… Did this Jamie McGann take care of you last night?"

Who? Oh. The girlfriend. Elaine had called them back shortly after Holly had told her off for harassing Vivian, and informed them that Vivian had an girlfriend who was short and brown and had a sweet face, and why didn't they all know about this. While Holly, technically, had known there was a someone, she didn't know it was at Girlfriend Levels yet. Surprise. "Gail, invite them to dinner."

The blonde rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. "Get her schedule. She's coming over for dinner … So Thursday or Friday. Tell me what she likes when you tell me when."

Good. Holly got out their workout clothes and put Gail's on the bed. As she dressed she listened to Gail ask Vivian what she'd expected. "She probably thought you'd get all Peck on her, honey," Holly offered.

"Vivian, I don't care who you date. Liv, a firefighter, a boy. I care that you're happy." Gail eyed Holly and mouthed 'firefighter' carefully. Oh. Well that would explain why Vivian was iffy about the whole thing. Gail sighed loudly. "Were you really nervous about that? … I promise to be on my best behavior."

Holly snorted. "Thin promise."

"Both of you shut up… Yes she's right here. Okay." Gail held out the phone. "Holly, Monkey wants to talk to you."

Always the monkey. "You didn't tell Mom," Vivian said to Holly, as soon as she picked up.

"No. No I did not." Holly knew right away what Vivian meant. She had not so much as mentioned to Gail that there was a girl on the horizon. "A firefighter though. Now I understand the reticence."

"Thanks," said Vivian softly. And then. "I am really glad I'm not as pale as Mom."

Holly laughed. "How bad does it look?"

"Pretty bad. Doesn't hurt that much, I think. I don't have anything to compare it to."

"What about the time you stopped the field hockey ball with your back?"

"Oh. It's not as blue, more purple. Want a picture?"

"Send it to my phone. Your mother will have a conniption fit." When Vivian agreed to do so, Holly added. "I want a picture of her too. This Jamie."

Vivian groaned. "You guys are horrible."

"No," teased Holly. "Horrible is saying she's probably _really_ fit." Vivian gagged. "I promise not to let Gail ask about your sex life if you make this girl promise not to make a dildo joke."

"No way." Vivian laughed. "Mom did _not_ do that to grandma! Did she?"

But Holly laughed the serious laugh. "She did! Lily was far too interested in my sexual satisfaction from a straight girl... Your firefighter isn't straight, is she?"

"Her name is Jamie, Mom. She's really hot, she's smart. She went to college and everything. And she's dated girls before."

Holly made a noise of appreciation and filed away the answer. Jamie was probably bi and not a lesbian. Well. Nothing wrong with being bisexual. Gail was, after all. "And she's taking care of you while we're gone. I already like her."

"I like her." Vivian sighed. "Absolute fail at explaining what's broken in my head, though."

"Honey. You are not broken."

"You know what I mean, Mom."

"I do," Holly said firmly. "You're not broken. You and your mother can cut that shit out, okay?" She caught Gail's look of surprise out of the corner of her eye and pointed at the blonde. Gail quickly held her hands up in surrender, and Holly mouthed for her to get dressed.

"Okay," said Vivian softly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, honey." Holly glanced at Gail. "What did you tell her?"

Vivian hesitated. "I told her Mom was worried I'd have flashbacks."

How odd. This was the feeling of having one's heart separate from the body. Suddenly she was soaring and yet smothered by the weight of the universe. Vivian had told someone some part of her past. At the same time, Vivian had to continually be reminded of that past. Holly wanted to rush over and sweep her daughter into her arms, like she had when Vivian was a small girl. Protect her, let her know she was loved, and that it was all alright.

Only that wasn't her job just then. Because Vivian had told this girl, this Jamie. And Jamie was still there.

"Did you?" It was the only thing Holly could safely say.

"No." Vivian was honest and a little surprised.

"Good. Good. Did you sleep okay?" There was a long pause. Oh ho ho! Holly grinned. So Jamie _had_ stayed over. "Where is she?"

"Uh. The kitchen apparently?" Vivian made a noise and whinged. "I just woke up. Yes. Okay, I slept fine. And I … Yeah, I did. It was weird and really nice. I feel asleep. I didn't know she was going to stay."

Holly frowned. Hadn't Pia spent the night? Well, there probably hadn't been much sleeping going on. "I suggest you go make coffee for her."

"Yeah, I should. I literally just woke up when Mom called."

"Sorry. I told her not to. She never listens to me."

Vivian laughed. "God, no kidding. It's really… Um. It's peaceful, sleeping with someone else. I felt … safe." Her voice was so small and shy, Holly barely heard it. Not embarrassed at all, Vivian sounded surprised and happy. Confused, but not embarrassed.

Safe. Holly remembered the first time she'd spent in bed with Gail, together. It had been after the haircut and while there had been an incredible amount of tension since they both wanted to do more than sleep, and they both knew that would be phenomenally stupid, it had been one of the best night's sleep she'd ever gotten. Of course, after twenty years, it was more of a case of resonance now. Holly was so used to Gail's breathing and sleep patterns that the snoring was rather soothing.

Her poor kid. Had Vivian shared a bed with anyone for comfort except Gail and Holly? She'd mentioned once that she'd slept in Kimmy's bed, but never her parents. Holly sighed. "Well. I'm looking forward to meeting Jamie, honey. But I have to Mom you. Are you _really_ okay?"

Vivian was quiet for a moment, and Holly could feel how serious she was. "I am," she said with a tone of surprised certainty. "I'm sore, but I'm okay. I just … I want Jamie to know why I am absolute shit at sleeping over. And why Mom was freaking the hell out."

"Gail does not handle that kind of stress well." Holly lamented but understood. "I can only imagine how horrible it was when you thought I was dying of Ebola."

Vivian laughed softly. "Remember how she got when Elaine had the heart thing? Multiply it by a million. She is so stupid in love with you, Mom."

"She's stupid alright," chuckled Holly. Elaine had made her heart attack worse by calling her children _after_ her discharge. Both Pecks had exploded in terror and rage. "She's making faces at me. I think she wants brunch."

"Please do not let me get between the care and feeding of Inspector Peck," she replied. "Don't let her get out of yoga. Love you, Moms."

"Love you too. Tell her when you're ready, if you're ready."

Gail leaned over Holly's shoulder. "I love you too, Monkey."

Holly rolled her eyes and shoved Gail away. "See? There you go. We'll see you when we get back."

"I'll meet you at the airport?"

"Ah, that would be wonderful, honey. Love you." And Holly hung up. "See? She's okay."

"That's a damn lie." Gail pulled a tight shirt on. "But she'll be okay."

"She's not in a a bathroom cutting off her hair." Holly tugged her shoes on. "Come on. Yoga."

Gail held her arms out. She was dressed and looking a little sad. "Okay."

Oh dear. It was the hurt puppy expression. Holly took Gail's hands. "Honey. It's okay." She squeezed the pale hands. "She's not hurt. Rachel checked and sent me her files. Oliver is bringing her donuts. Her girlfriend stayed over."

At that, Gail smirked. "Her girlfriend, wow. I didn't see that coming."

"I did." Holly picked up a room key and tucked it into her waist pocket.

Gail narrowed her eyes. "You knew." She followed Holly out to the hall. "You totally knew!"

"I had an inkling. Not that she was a firefighter, but that she had a girl she was interested in."

"Damn it." Gail snarled and slapped Holly's butt. "Tell me next time."

Holly chuckled. "No, I don't think I will. Mommy / daughter secrets are sacrosanct. I didn't tell you about Liv either."

Huffing, Gail stabbed the elevator button. "You're a dick, Holly."

"And here I thought not having one was part of why you loved me so."

* * *

Her daughter was holding up a sign. Plus Ones.

Gail sighed. "I thought Lisa was picking us up."

"Change of plans. Hi, honey." Holly beamed and wrapped Vivian into a big, Mom Hug.

Oh, so Holly knew this too. "Hey, kid. Whose car?"

"Yours. It has more trunk space." Vivian hesitated and then gave Gail a quick hug. It was surprising. "Come on." Vivian took Gail's suitcase.

Smiling, Holly looped an arm through Vivian's free one. "Where's Jamie, and why don't I have a photo yet?"

"She's at work, and because ew?" Vivian looked beseechingly at Gail, rolling her eyes. "Mom, help me out here?"

"No, no I want to see her too. When is she coming to dinner?"

"Later. Here..." Vivian held the bag towards Gail, who took it and let Vivian fish out her phone. By the time they got to the car, Vivian had pulled up a photo of Jamie.

The girl was cute. She had warm brown eyes, almost like Holly but brighter. More earthy. Like Vivian, she was annoyingly athletic looking, even in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. The photo had been taken in Vivian's kitchen, and Jamie held a mug of coffee and wore one of Vivian's sports shirts, a quizzical smile, and had impressive bed head. Longish, frizzy, nearly black brown hair.

Nice.

She looked nice. Like a good person.

"She's cute," said Holly, studying the photo. "How old is she?"

Vivian groaned. "She just turned 23."

Gail smirked. "Younger woman. Holly?"

"Shut up, you," said Holly with a laugh, elbowing Gail lightly. They tossed the bags in and Gail hopped into the back seat. "I'm looking forward to meeting her, Viv."

Their daughter sighed as she started the car. "I'm not, Mom. No offense, but ..." Vivian caught Gail's eyes in the rear view mirror before she backed out.

"But I'm a Peck," said Gail. She was self aware enough to know the issues. "Vivian, I'm serious. If you're happy, that's all I care about."

Vivian didn't reply right away. She concentrated on the road, getting out of the airport, and on to the highway. "Why is it a big deal?"

Good question. "I think, historically, since all Pecks are cops, we looked down on the ones who weren't." In truth, Gail knew that her own great grandfather had a brother who was a fireman. And that was where the family split began.

"We have long established that your family is insane, Gail." Holly yawned. "God, I'm sorry, Viv. I just want to eat and sleep. Can we order something?"

Before Gail could answer, Vivian scoffed. "What the hell? There's chicken in the oven. Potatoes, brussels sprouts, a salad. I put it all in for you before I stole your car. We're gonna have dinner and then I'm going to sleep in my own apartment. Alone, Mom." She glared at Gail through the rearview mirror.

Gail grinned. "Why not? She working tomorrow too?"

"Yes, she's off Tuesday at noon."

Interesting. Had the kid memorized her schedule? Latent Peck talents were popping up all over the place. "Dinner Thursday or Friday then. She'll want to do laundry first."

Holly turned in her seat. "Why do you know so much about a firefighter's habits? Did you date a fireman to piss off your mother?"

"No," Gail said and stuck her tongue out. "I'm just awesome."

"And egotistical." Vivian was smirking. It was not endearing. "I'll text her later."

Gail leaned back in the car and smiled. "So. What the hell happened?"

And Vivian groaned. "Noelle bet you'd ask about that."

"I'm sorry, my kid got _shot_! Of course I'm wondering what happened!"

Vivian pulled off the main road and down their street. She didn't reply until after the garage door opened. "Pee, I'll tell you at dinner?"

That was fair. They got inside and, within thirty minutes, were sitting at the kitchen table with good food and the laundry started. Once Holly agreed to suspend the no shop talk rule at the table, Vivian explained what had happened, how she'd been watching the line, and how she'd kept eyes on the shooter.

"You know, I remember that happening before. A woman was murdered in front of McNally. Arterial spray all over." Gail tapped her lips. "Large events like that are always sketchy."

"The part that pisses me off is how dumb they are," said Vivian. "One dumb ass didn't want to lose his place in line."

Holly was dumbfounded. "He was being shot at!"

Alas, Gail knew that sort of behavior to be common. "People care more about their own lives than others. And sometimes it's not their life but the meaningless crap that makes them feel better that they care about."

Frowning, Holly stabbed a potato on her plate. "That is beyond stupid."

"How'd you catch the murderer?" Vivian looked interested. "And why don't I know this story?"

Gail smiled. "It wasn't that interesting if you're not McNally." But she told the story of how she and Dov talked to the nerd, with herself as nerd bait. Holly coughed and blushed at that remark. Yes, Gail knew she was always, totally, nerd bait and lesbian bait. Poor Holly never stood a chance. But her wife and daughter listened when Gail told them about the carpet and the evidence and how they'd totally spotted it.

In return, Holly told them about the time a crazy patient held Bitch Tits at knife point with a scalpel back in med school. It was a new story to Gail, too, who teased Holly that even after all their years, they still had novel things to tell each other. Holly's argument was that it was more Lisa's story than her own, and admitted she'd hidden in the back.

But. Travel wore a person out. Both Gail and Holly were tired. Vivian was probably tired. Instead of dragging on story time, Gail suggested they put an end to the day and get some sleep. She went to change the laundry loads first, giving Holly and Vivian some privacy together. They liked to talk about matters of the heart, feelings and all that. The things Gail and Vivian both generally had a hard time talking about.

By the time she got back, Holly was gone and Vivian was loading the dishwasher. "Hey, where's your mom?"

"She went to shower." Vivian glanced over. "I'm not spending the night."

"I know." Gail walked over and picked up the roasting pan. "You know it scared the hell out of me."

Her daughter snorted. "Scared you? Shit, I was terrified. It hurt like hell!"

"Not fun, huh?" Nodding, Gail scrubbed the pot. "Your mom held it together the whole time we were gone. Her adrenaline rush crash is always fun." Holly's breakdowns over drama were almost always later and a little strange compared to the rest of the world. She'd probably sleep 10 hours and be emotionally hungover the next day. And moody. Because now it was safe.

On the other hand, Gail just carried that fear with her and in her while doing what she had to do. Or she froze. Usually only in front of Holly, though that idiot who'd shot at her and John certainly was another moment. It was safe to fracture in front of Holly.

Vivian sighed and closed the dishwasher, leaning on it. "I'm sorry I scare you guys, but..." She faltered.

"You have to be this. You have to go out there again and get shot at because that's who you are," said Gail softly. "You're a part of something bigger now, and if that's what fills up your heart, it's okay."

For a moment, Vivian stared at the ground. Then she stabbed the buttons on the dishwasher. "I don't really trust people not to hurt me," she said quietly.

"I know."

"How do I not screw things up with Jamie?"

Gail blinked. Her kid was asking _her_ for relationship advice? Shit. "You know... You try." She pushed her hands through her hair. "What'd you tell her?"

Vivian cracked her knuckles. "I told her you guys were freaking out because last year. When I saw the guy blow his head off I got flashbacks 'cause of how my birth father died."

Never did Vivian call him her father. It was her birth father. She was still mad at him. Eighteen years. And Gail could not blame her. "What did she say?"

"She said that sucked."

Gail smiled. "She's right."

But then Vivian mumbled. "Didn't tell her how he died."

What? Gail arched her eyebrows. "You mean that you were there?" Her daughter nodded. "Well. That's okay. Took me a long time to tell your mom stuff about Perik."

Even now, Holly didn't know everything. They'd never talked about seeing Jerry get stabbed. How the feeling of absolute helplessness drove her to remain a cop. She had to make up for his death. That day, those twenty-four hours were indelibly carved into her soul and bone and blood, and made her who she was now. The story just wasn't one Holly needed to hear, nor one Gail needed to tell.

The younger Peck nodded. "Thanks."

"Look. Whatever you tell her, or don't, just don't lie to her. Tell her you can't tell her. If you can tell her why, that may help, but that's hard, kiddo. But... Wanting to. That's kinda huge."

Again, Vivian nodded. Gail hesitated and then held an arm out. Her daughter bit her lip and then stepped in for a hug. It was rare. Generally it was Holly their child went to for a comforting hug, and even then Holly initiated them. But this was how Gail's relationship with her daughter worked. An offer, an acceptance. A hug.

"It's fine, Monkey," she said gently, holding her close like she had when Vivian was six. Whatever it would be, they would still be there for her.

* * *

It was a new sensation, having a girlfriend over for hanging out on the couch like this. Jamie was shorter than Vivian, but she was tougher and more muscular, and yet incredibly comfortable to lean against. And watch Agatha Christie on Netflix. Not that they were cuddling or leaning on each other just then. Jamie sat on one end of the couch, Vivian the other, and their legs overlapped. Sometimes Jamie would rub her foot, but in general they were just quietly together.

"You're weird," said Vivian, finally, as the case was solved and the orchestra swelled.

"What?"

"You actually like this stuff!"

"You're the cop."

"Not a detective. Not my thing."

Jamie pinched her leg and laughed when Vivian yelped. "Not gonna follow your mom's footsteps?" Jamie already knew Vivian was interested in ETF, but as there was no opening, it had only been theoretical.

Sticking her tongue out, Vivian sat up and stretched. "No one in right mind would. You haven't even met her yet."

"Two days." Smiling brightly, Jamie leaned in and kissed Vivian lightly.

"How are you not nervous?" Vivian squinted the near distance at her girlfriend.

"Oh I'm terrified. I told the captain I was dating you and going to meet Gail." But Jamie kissed her again, belying her words. Or masking them. Hard to say. "She said good luck."

Vivian rolled her eyes and smiled, leaning in to kiss a little more languidly. "Are you trying to distract yourself? 'Cause I'm for it if it means you're staying tonight."

Laughing, Jamie leaned forward, tipping Vivian back into the arm of the couch. "You spend the night once and suddenly your girl gets all clingy." They settled back, Jamie holding most of her weight off of Vivian with her arms. "If you say ow, it ain't happening."

"I won't say another word," said Vivian, aware of the joke and how Holly would laugh and blush later. But unless her ribs were killing her, she was not giving this up for the world.

And of course there was a knock at the door as they started to move to a place where Vivian was about to suggest the bedroom. "Peckling. I have donuts." Only one person on the planet dared call her that. She sighed and dropped her head back.

Sitting up, Jamie smirked. "Peckling?"

"Oliver," grimaced Vivian, sneaking in another kiss. "I told you about him. He's basically my uncle." Vivian got up and opened the door, not even questioning why Oliver was back. He'd come by once, shortly after Jamie had gone home the first day, with cookies. "Hi, Ollie." She greeted him with a hug and whispered, "Please be nice."

Oliver peered in. "Oh you have a friend. Hello friend." He gave her a knowing look.

Locking the door again, Vivian watched her uncle put out a coffee cake and a small box of donuts. "Oliver, this is Jamie McGann." Vivian took a breath. "My girlfriend."

Smiling and holding out her hand, Jamie offered, "She told me you're why she's a cop."

"She flatters me," smiled Oliver. He shook her hand and sized up Jamie in one go.

"You're my favorite guy," Vivian admitted. It was true on many levels, but he and Uncle Steve were the only men she trusted unconditionally. Even C she had doubts on. She trusted him enough to live with him, but he was iffy mostly because he'd kissed her that one, stupid, somewhat drunk time. But Oliver was special. He was the only person besides Holly who could hug Gail without warning.

Jamie grinned. "She talks about you, which is saying something."

Oliver hooted. "Her mother isn't any better. Have you met Gail yet?" When Jamie shook her head, Oliver slapped Vivian's arm. "You, Peckling, are trouble. She gets it from Gail. Getting emotions out of that one is something only Holly's been able to do." And Oliver froze, looking worried.

"She knows I have two Moms, Ollie," sighed Vivian. "And she's coming over to Moms' for dinner in two days. How much do I have to pay you to get everyone else to leave me alone for a couple more days?"

"That depends on when you're seeing your therapist, darling."

Vivian broke off part of a donut. Old fashioned, her favorite. "Already done. Morning after. And again yesterday with the department counselor."

"Hey!" Jamie scowled. "Donuts are for breakfast."

"Donuts are for eating!" Even if she was only going to have one that night, it was a delightfully sinful treat.

Oliver laughed. "You are Gail's kid, Peckling." Oliver leaned in to kiss her forehead. "What about you, Miss Jamie McGann?"

"I don't have a therapist. Yet. I'm sure I will." When Oliver looked confused, Jamie added, "I run into burning buildings and rescue people."

Oliver's eyes widened. "You tell Gail?"

"Yup." Vivian shoved more of the donut in her mouth and spoke around it. "That's when she said to bring her over for dinner."

"How very un-Peckish," Oliver mused.

Wasn't it though? Vivian grinned after she swallowed. "Conversations with Mom never go the way I'm expecting."

Jamie looked between them. "Okay, _now_ you're starting to make me nervous."

But Oliver, wonderfully sweet and kind Oliver, just smiled. "You, fireman- firewoman?"

"Firefighter," suggested Vivian. Jamie's nerves seemed to be fading visibly as they bantered.

"Yes. You, firefighter McGann, have nothing to fear. While the fearsome ice princess demon that is Gail Peck can be terrifying, the mercurial young Peckling here will not attempt to introduce you to her without the beautiful and wise buffer known as Holly Stewart. Because Holly has the magical power to tame my Petulant Peck into a proper human."

Jamie's eyebrows raised. When Vivian nodded, they went higher. "Do you give them all nicknames?"

Oliver grinned. "Her uncle Steve is my Keystone Peck."

Smiling, Vivian added, "He didn't give Holly one. I don't know why."

"Holly's special," Oliver said firmly. "And I promise, she'll stop Gail from being... From being Gail."

Jamie sighed. "Well. This should be interesting. I thought Viv and Shay were exaggerating."

"Shay?" Oliver eyed Jamie. "Captain Shay Peck? Don't tell me she's your captain." When Jamie bit her lip, Oliver laughed. "Tell Fire Peck I say hello."

"Do you know everyone?" Jamie sounded exasperated, but Vivian and Oliver only laughed.

When Oliver left it wasn't even ten at night. "Thank god it was Uncle Ollie," mused Vivian, putting the dishes in the machine. "He'll tell everyone to back off for a couple more days." Elaine had managed to do that, but her magic had worn off that morning when John showed up to check on her and in an unsubtle manner inquire as to the status of Jamie as girlfriend.

"You _really_ don't talk a lot," Jamie replied, a little off the topic.

"Huh?"

"Oliver talks a lot. You just let him."

"Well. That's Ollie." She shrugged and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Are you staying the night again?"

"Is that an invitation?"

Vivian felt the need to fold in on herself crawling up. It was as if the time with Oliver had robbed her of any more ability to people. "I'd like it. If you stayed. I liked that you stayed the other night."

Hesitating, Jamie looked up the stairs to Vivian's room. Then she sighed. "Okay, you _never_ spend the night at my place."

Oh. Vivian wasn't going to get out of this without talking about it, was she? Well. This was either going to make or break things. "I didn't ... Um. Okay, I left something out before."

Jamie sat in the window sill, the same place Elaine had sat days before. The stained glass, lit by the outdoor street lamps, gave her skin a curious coloring. "You mean about the flashbacks?" Jamie was smart. She was always smart. That was a lot of why Vivian liked her.

"It's ... " And she stopped. Closing her eyes, Vivian took a deep breath. "I had nightmares, a lot, growing up. Slept with the light on." A lot of children did that, Vivian knew intellectually. "I'm not afraid of the monster under the bed, I'm afraid of the monsters in people." She had to talk around the issue.

The other woman said nothing for a long moment. "Of me?"

Vivian shook her head right away, eyes snapping open. "No. And... Not Ruby. It's... My birth father killed everyone else, Jamie. And he saw me. I was coming home from a sleep over. He saw me, and he still shot his head off."

Never had Vivian told the story, any part of it, to someone who didn't already know. As a child, her therapists had been informed of the case notes beforehand at her mothers' behest. As an adult, she'd made certain of it. That meant she'd never before seen the look on someone's face as the words ordered themselves properly and the past was revealed.

"Oh." Jamie's voice was sudden and small. But then her eyes widened. " _Oh_." The tone was deeper the second time, more revelatory. "Jesus... Do you— Every time you sleep over somewhere? You— you remember?"

"Kind of." Vivian bit the inside of her cheek. "It's a trigger. Nightmares, jerking awake. Moms were worried the first time they brought me on vacation, but being with them helps. A lot."

And Jamie looked enlightened. "Which is why you lived at home until this year. Wow. Yeah." Then she asked, "Didn't you go to the Academy?"

"Yeah, I had my own room in the dorms." She plucked at a loose thread on the couch. Her own room and two hours of driving, each way, every weekend, because she didn't really get good sleep at the academy.

And Jamie's face softened. She exhaled loudly. "It's not fair, you know. I want to be pissed at you for not telling me about getting shot, or not telling me why you can't sleep over. You can be very frustrating." She grumbled. "Did you just not sleep at my place?"

"Not a wink," sighed Vivian. "Tried. I didn't want you to think I just wanted to bang and go."

Jamie's eyes narrowed, crinkling ever so slightly in a smile. "So when you said you had that falling dream where you jerk yourself awake?"

Vivian grimaced. "Kind of. I did, just the stuff leading up to the falling in the dream is... unpleasant." She hesitated and added, "It's like the only time, too. I used to have them more often."

"But you can sleep _here_?"

Glancing up, Vivian saw Jamie was really trying to make sense of Viv's brain. Good luck. It was her own brain and Vivian didn't understand it herself half the time. "Yeah. It's like… I can sleep in _my_ home, but other peoples' is weird. I was okay on vacations, but I'm with my Moms then." She didn't know why she could sleep at her grandparents and not Elaine's though. Probably because her mothers were there, and Gail would protect them from anything.

Jamie drummed her heels on the wall. "It's easier with tall, dark, and dumb here, huh?"

Vivian smiled. Christian didn't like the nickname, but Jamie felt he was just too simple for words. "Yes and no. I don't mind being home alone. And I'm not... I'm not asking you to stay because of that. I'm asking because I really like you, and I want to be with you."

And Jamie, Jamie nodded. Getting up, she walked up to Vivian and held out a hand. They walked to the master bedroom, hand in hand, Vivian flipping off lights as they went. "Can I ask something?"

"Anything." When Jamie looked skeptical, Vivian frowned. "I mean it. Anything."

Hesitating, Jamie slowed and looked at the wall. "I've been meaning to ask this... Why are there dinosaurs on your walls?"

Vivian laughed. "Gail did that. I have dinosaurs on the wall in my bedroom at the house." As they got to her bedroom, she told Jamie the story of how she'd been allowed to pick her paint colors and decor at six. And how Gail and Holly's mother and Elaine helped her paint them. "When I moved here, Gail put them up on the wall to make it feel like home."

"That's incredibly adorable. Everyone makes Gail sound fierce and angry and dangerous. But you make her sound sweet and kind of awesome." Jamie paused as she took in the room, looking for something.

Kissing her girlfriend softly, Vivian pointed at the back of the door. "The others are in the corner there —"

"Saw that."

"— and in the bathroom."

Jamie glanced and nodded. Then she carefully cupped Vivian's face and drew her down for a kiss. "Every once in a while you are sweet and tender."

Smiling into the kiss, Vivian took hold of Jamie's waist. "It's the secret Peck underbelly," she murmured. "Outside we're icy and distant. Inside we're gooey and soft."

"I think I need to investigate that for myself," said Jamie, teasing.

* * *

The moment the waitress took their orders, Elaine turned into Herr Peck mode.

"Do you want to know about her?"

"Honestly, Elaine." Holly sighed. "Did you _really_ have to run a background check on her?" Gail had sworn not to, but really Holly wasn't shocked that Elaine had. Just annoyed.

Her mother-in-law sighed. "Yes, I did. First of all, Vivian didn't tell you about her. Second... I know the name McGann."

"No." Holly stabbed her fork in Elaine's direction. "No, you are not going to tell me all her secrets. That's not our business."

Elaine looked slightly distressed. "I seem to have fallen back into bad habits."

"You did," agreed Holly. "Anyway, Viv's bringing her over for dinner. Gail's gone a little overboard, figuring out what to cook."

Nodding, Elaine picked at her salad. "She's so fragile," said the older woman.

No need to say who 'she' was. While both her Pecks were fragile, shoring up their hearts behind their name and their badge, Elaine was clearly worried about Vivian just then. "A background check is not going to spare her from a heartbreak, if that's what happens, Elaine."

"I know." Elaine sighed. "Well. It certainly didn't help you and Gail, did it?"

Holly shook her head. "You ran a background check on me? Really?"

"You were the first person Gail asked to bring over to a Peck Dinner by her own volition." Smiling, Elaine added, "I only found out she was dating Nick when Steven told me, and I invited him. I thought Gail was going to murder her brother."

"That does sound like her," said Holly, smiling. "Gail said she never looked at my background."

"Well. She wouldn't. You were hired by the city."

"And because you would?" Because Holly knew that Gail knew Elaine would.

Elaine looked stubborn. It was where Gail got it from. "I worry about my family in a different way. "I don't want people taking advantage of them. They aren't ... Their hearts are spun glass. Steve too. They don't have those tools for heartbreak."

Sipping her iced tea, Holly considered that truth. "It's funny. You taught them to expect everyone to lie to them and betray them. But not dump them."

"Dear, we have long since determined I was a terrible parent." Elaine shrugged.

The annoying thing was that Holly understood. "Elaine. Jamie is a firefighter. They have background checks. And if her family is a long line of insane serial killers, well. I live with your daughter."

Pursing her lips, Elaine fought a smile. "Valid point. Have you met her? Jamie I mean."

"No. Dinner tomorrow. We did yell at Vivian though."

"Dinner. That's hit and miss."

"Gail's idea. Invite her over, scare the hell out of her." Holly rolled her eyes. "I love her, but Gail takes so much looking after."

Now Elaine smiled. "She has always been a handful. You seem to have successfully tamed her."

Holly smiled too, blushing. "I try."

Conversation paused as the salads came out. They got refills of drinks and were silent a moment to eat. Elaine took a pause. "She's cute. Jamie is. Shorter than Vivian, but who isn't."

"Cute? Viv showed me a photo." In Holly's mind, Jamie wasn't 'cute' but then again, she'd never really felt that was a good way to describe attractive women.

"There you are. Jamie was pretty mad Vivian didn't call."

That was news. "Oh. After the ... Well. That was stupid. At least Gail always called."

"In Vivian's defense, I think Gail calling her every ten minutes and having everyone check on her was driving her to drink."

They both smiled. Elaine was amused and rueful, Holly was sad. "Gail was perilously close to a panic attack," Holly explained.

The smile fell off Elaine's face. "How bad?"

While Gail knew that Holly and Elaine talked about the problems Gail had, she had been adamant that she didn't want to know exactly what they said. Elaine had even come to a handful of therapy sessions over the years, working to get them past their mother/daughter issues. At this point, Gail was fine with Holly and Elaine comparing notes. It gave Holly family to talk to about the details, which she hadn't known she'd needed until it was there.

"She blanked out. Lights on, no one home. Not as bad as some." Holly shook her head and ate an olive. "This has been harder on her than she thought."

Elaine closed her eyes for a moment. "Well shit." Savagely, Elaine stabbed her salad. "I wish she'd ask me about it."

"You know why she won't, Elaine. And it's not your fault."

"It is, Holly. It's sweet of you to say it's not, but... I couldn't see how to prepare Vivian and Gail at once."

That too was something Holly knew. "She hasn't had it as bad as the other Pecks. Either you've all mellowed out or you taught her right. Or Gail... Maybe it was just time."

Thoughtfully nodding, Elaine asked a different question. "When did you stop eating tomatoes?"

Holly blinked. "Tomatoes..."

"Before or after you got serious about Gail?"

She didn't follow the line of questions, but Holly answered honestly. "Before. When she was ditching your setups."

Elaine nodded. "Just so."

Sometimes Pecks could be infuriating. Holly sighed and shook her head. "You're not coming to dinner, by the way."

"Heavens no." Elaine smiled. "Too much Peck in one meal. Besides, I've already met her. Just don't let Gail go crazy."

By the time Friday rolled around, Holly felt like she was failing that role. Gail had come up with four menus, thrown them all out, and then made a change of plans that very night on the way home. It had taken all her wiles to convince Gail to go to the batting cages the night before. For her own sanity, Holly had taken herself up to the office to finish up her latest article. Letting Gail de-stress herself in the kitchen was probably safe.

An hour later, Holly tilted her head, looking up from her laptop as the sound of the garage opening filtered in the house. Since she knew Gail was downstairs in the kitchen, that could only mean Vivian was there.

"Moms! I brought the wine."

It was just Vivian, no Jamie yet. Holly smiled and saved her paper, closing the laptop. She could clean up her article later. From the stairs, she saw Vivian and Gail shoving each other in the arm, teasingly, the way they always did. They were incredibly close, but neither liked hugging.

"Gail, stop acting like a child," she laughed, rolling her sleeves down.

"Never!" But Gail did stop her goofing around and quickly kissed Holly before heading back into the kitchen.

Vivian rolled her eyes and very briefly hugged Holly hello. "Hi, Mom."

Taking hold of her daughter by the shoulders, Holly studied her face. "You're okay?" They hadn't been able to see much of each other since the shooting. Yes, they'd had a dinner at home, and yes Holly and Gail had made a point to go over and feed their child as well as get a _real_ emotional temperature. She'd looked tired then, a little sore and worn, but fine. Now she looked a little scared.

"I'm okay," nodded Vivian. "Nervous."

"Well. That's understandable." They both glanced at Gail in the kitchen, cooking away. "Why didn't you bring her?"

"She had some stuff to do this afternoon," shrugged Vivian.

Holly teased, "Not a motorcycle fan?"

Her daughter narrowed her eyes. "You are not getting my bike, Mom." They shared a smile and Holly straightened Vivian's shirt collar. "I'm really fine," sighed Vivian, sounding annoyed.

"And I'm really your mother, so hush and let me fuss over you, since you've been avoiding me."

"Not you," her daughter mumbled.

Ah. Holly exhaled slowly and nodded. "She's not mad. Or disappointed." Keeping her voice quiet, Holly went on, "Neither of us care about any of that bullshit, honey. We worry about you because that's what parents do. My mom grilled me about Gail, you know."

"Yeah, but you guys broke up once," smiled the young woman, wanly.

"Cheeky." But Holly smiled. "You like her?" And her daughter nodded, sheepishly. "Alright. I'll keep the Peck in check." She tweaked Vivian's nose. "Now. What's she _really_ like?"

The girl smiled. "She's smart. She went to college for a couple years when she thought she wanted to do social work. She reads a lot, like all the time. Her eReader ran out of room." Holly laughed at that. "And she's funny, Mom. Like us. A little morbid and dark."

"I already like her because she took care of you," smiled Holly. "But she sounds nice." That was the most Vivian had talked about someone else in years. Jamie was not the first girl who had come over for a dinner with the parents. Of course Olivia had come over before and while she and Vivian had dated. And they'd met Pia a few times, but it had been fairly clear that the artist was not a serious thing. It felt different with Jamie. Vivian felt different about it, like it was a real, grown up relationship already.

They walked into the kitchen to help but Vivian paused. "She's here."

Holly watched her daughter scamper to the door and fuss for a moment. "I can't remember if I was that nervous," Gail mused, leaning on the counter.

"I was," admitted Holly. When Gail looked surprised, she added, "Why do you think I was washing dishes when you came over that after the ER thing? Nervous as hell and trying to figure out the whole kissing, not hugging, hugging, being shot at day. It was a lot to take in."

They shared a look. "God, you could not pay me to be there again." Her wife laughed and shook her head. Peeking around, Gail tried to get a look as Vivian opened the door.

"Stop it," hissed Holly, swatting her wife's arm. But Gail kept trying to peek, so Holly leaned in to kiss her. As a distraction, it still worked. "Be nice, Gail," she warned.

"Or what? You'll keep kissing me?"

"Or I'll stop." The look of actual shock and horror on Gail's face was worth it. Holly smiled and turned as she heard the front door close.

Vivian was holding Jamie's hand, leading her into the kitchen. Jamie was shorter than Vivian by a number of inches, though Viv had finally peaked over the six foot mark (far surpassing it in shoes) and everyone was shorter. But Jamie was petite, not even reaching Holly and Gail's height. "Remember when she was small for her age," asked Gail, clearly thinking the same thing.

"She hated the car seat," Holly replied.

"Don't mind that," said Vivian, louder than normal. "They go down these annoying memory lane detours and talk about how I was undersized when they adopted me."

"Oh, so they're normal parents," Jamie grinned. She was holding a bouquet of flowers ... No, she was holding a bunch of flowers in a pot.

"That will be the only time you say that," warned their daughter. "Moms, this is Jamie McGann. My girl— my girlfriend. Jamie, these are my Moms. Holly Stewart and Gail Peck." Vivian's face was turning a little pink.

Predictably, Gail pouted. "How come she got to be first?"

Holly smirked. "Stop being puckish, Peck." Gail rolled her eyes and Holly extended a hand. "Hello, Jamie. It's nice to finally meet you."

Jamie let go of Vivian's hand and reached over to shake Holly's. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs- Dr. Stewart. Vivian said you liked amorphophallus titanum."

Taking the flowers, Holly did a double take. These were local flowers, in a pot. Ones that would actually go well in her garden outside. Interesting. "I would have been astounded if these were those," she admitted.

"Her father's a florist, Holly," noted Gail. "But there are probably limits."

Both Jamie and Vivian startled. Jamie looked abruptly concerned while Vivian looked confused. Sighing, Holly asked, "Gail. Did you run a background check?"

"I did not." Gail sighed. "Sorry, Jamie, I do know who your father is, though."

Jamie frowned a little. "Is that a problem?"

Quickly Gail shook her head. "No, and honestly until I saw the flowers, I was hoping it was just a coincidence."

Her daughter looked nervous and annoyed. "Really, Mom?"

Holly cleared her throat. "Since everyone else seems to know what's going on...?"

Vivian held up a finger. "I don't."

At least Gail had the grace to look sorry. "Not my story to tell," Gail dodged.

Jamie sighed. "My Dad did time for assaulting his step-dad. It's complicated."

No wonder no one wanted to talk about. Holly sighed and looked at the flowers while Vivian seemed to be revising things in her head. "Well if it's complicated, you'll fit in just fine here, Jamie. Gail sic'd internal affairs on her mother once."

That broke the tension enough for conversation to move on. "You fit in just fine," agreed Gail with a smile. "You're just a dash of damaged like us."

"Just a dash, Mom?" Vivian grinned a little awkwardly. She was so on eggshells, it was adorable.

"Hush, you." Gail shoved Vivian's shoulder. "You were supposed to set the table."

The two teased each other and went to get the table ready, while Holly led Jamie into the kitchen. "Before you ask, yes, they're always like that. And yes, I do like the flowers. How did you know not to bring cut flowers?"

Jamie shrugged, nervously. "I know you're a pathologist. I figure you see enough death all the time."

"This is true," admitted Holly, and she put the pot down on the coffee table. "Vivian said you read a lot? Do you like science fiction?"

"Sometimes. It's got to be really good and believable sci fi, though."

"Oh, good god. I hate the ones that pull you out of plausibility!" The shyness faded a little and they started to talk about books they'd read and movies. Jamie did read a lot, and she read anything that had a good plot regardless of subject matter.

They were deep into arguing about the merits of young adult fiction when Vivian piped up. "Ask her about the Twilight books, Mom." Vivian looked impish.

Jamie scowled. "I cannot believe you like those movies."

It was Gail who defended them. "They're hilarious! Have you read the gender swap one? I laughed so hard, I cried."

Over dinner, Holly realized Vivian had undersold Jamie. She was smart and witty like they were, but also she sassed. Not like Gail did, which was often over the top, but in a way that was friendly. She stood up for herself and pushed at Vivian in good ways, nudging her out of her quiet shell.

Around Jamie, Vivian was the person Holly and Gail saw. That hadn't always been true around Matty or Olivia. Something had always been held a little back. Here, Vivian was herself. She was comfortable and friendly. And awkward. That would probably never go away. But Jamie seemed to find it endearing and just took hold of Vivian's hand as they chatted.

Without being a suck up, Jamie complimented Gail on the food and asked if she was just good at everything. Vivian quickly told tales of Gail at sports, which lead to Gail teasing Holly about singing, and then Holly absently harassed Vivian about the time she covered her walls with diagrams when she was struggling in electronics.

"Oh is that why you have seventeen versions of a spark plug doodled on your dresser?"

The two cops hesitated. Holly laughed. "Really? You're still working on that?"

Peevishly, Vivian pointed out the obvious. "You and Sue said I could blow it up on the range if I get it working. We finally figured out the trigger last month, but it doesn't behave like it should in lab tests."

Gail snorted. "This is what I put up with, Jamie. And I married into it."

"You picked me," Vivian said cheerfully.

"And you chased me," Holly said. She smiled at Gail and leaned over to kiss the blonde. "Don't mind her, Jamie. None of us do."

The dinner went well, though. There was joking and teasing and Vivian kept stealing glances at Jamie throughout. When, finally, Jamie said she should go home, Vivian walked her to the car. Or course, Gail peeked at them from the window until Holly threw a dish towel at her.

"Stop spying on the kid," admonished Holly, smiling.

"They were kissing."

"They're supposed to." Holly started loading the dishwasher. She was a little curious as to what circumstances, exactly, led to her wife knowing about their daughter's girlfriend's family's predicaments. But that would wait. Today was for family. And Vivian would want to know how her parents liked Jamie.

* * *

Two days after the dinner with Jamie and Vivian, Holly asked the question Gail suspected was on her mind the whole time. Gail had been holed up in the office, finishing a report, when her wife came in with a drink.

"So, honey. How, exactly, did you know who Jamie's dad was?" Holly put the glass down for Gail and opened her side of the office closet to dug for something.

Gail looked over and gnawed her lip. No point in hiding it though she stalled and sipped the water. "My Dad was on the case. Philpott v McGann. We talked about it at one of the family dinners, since Dad thought Jason should've gotten off."

Sadly, Gail remembered the story. She had no choice, being a Peck and living at her parents' house back in the day. Even worse, Gail remembered the _whole_ story, including the part where Vivian had actually seen Jamie's father. Because the last time Gail had spoken to her own father had been when he was escorting the handcuffed McGann in. She wondered if Vivian remembered that at all.

But of course it was also why Elaine had known the name McGann as well and had warned Holly, vaguely, at their lunch.

"Do I need to be worried about Viv?"

She looked up at her wife and felt her heart swell. Once, Holly had said that watching their daughter navigate the world was like having her heart race around on it's own and being able to do nothing to protect it. In this moment, having Holly's first thought be for their daughter, made her love Holly even more.

And she was never more thankful to be able to answer as she did. "Nah." Gail closed her laptop and stretched her arms up. "His step-father was beating his mother and he tried to protect her."

Holly frowned. "The mother sided with the abuser?" When Gail nodded, she scowled and held a hand out to Gail.

Taking the hand, Gail stood up. "I think there was a second time, too, when the step-dad tried to push his way into the house to see the baby. Whom I presume is Jamie."

"Why would he do time for that, though? Even if the witness sided with the victim, the second time the mother had to ..." Holly paused, closing the office door behind them. "Jason McGann. The boxer?"

Gail was surprised and glanced back as she opened the bedroom door. "Yeah. Pro boxer beat the fuck out of the same man twice. Small problem. The second time they got him out after I think six months, but still. A total mess." How had Holly known who he was? Was that related to her previously unknown talent in boxing?

"I can see why." Holly shook her head. "Well. That's that and this is this, honey."

"Oh, I know." Gail yawned. "I like her." Gail flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes. "I like her and Viv."

"I like them together." There was a sound Gail identified as Holly shaking her hair out of its ponytail. "Shower. Bed."

"Can't I just lie here and be dirty?"

"No. And you are not a six year old hoyden." Holly smiled and leaned over to kiss Gail's forehead. "I like her too. Vivian is totally smitten."

As Holly walked into the bathroom, Gail called out. "I'm totally smitten with you, Holly!"

"I'll be smitten with you if you shower." The sound of the water turning on spurred Gail into getting up and following her wife into the bathroom. She sat on the stool and watched Holly for a moment. "Why are you being a creeper, honey?"

"If you'd known everything about the Pecks before we started dating, would we still be here?"

Without a second of hesitation, Holly replied. "Of course. We were inevitable."

Gail blinked. "What?"

"The moment I looked at you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman, the most honest, interesting person I'd ever met. Attitude and glamour, and there you were... A cop. No. Sorry, honey, as soon as our paths crossed, I could have tried to avoid you but I think we would have always ended up here."

She stared at Holly. "That... That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say."

Holly looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I've been practicing." She rinsed off and gestured. "Coming right in?"

"Oh. I suppose." Gail shimmied out of her clothes and hopped in while Holly toweled off.

"Do you suppose Viv knows now?"

"About the McGanns? Probably. If not already then soon." Turning up the hot water, Gail scrubbed her hair. "Without violating your secret keeper vows, can you tell me if Viv managed to tell Jamie about her sleeping issues?"

"I gather she did." The brunette was already in her robe, her hair wrapped up in a monument of towel. "You know, not a day goes by that I don't worry about her."

"Ditto." Gail rinsed out her hair and stepped out of the shower, her wife holding up a towel. "Thanks, baby." The kissed softly.

"Does it really not bother you, Jamie being a firefighter?"

"Not in the slightest." Gail smiled and rough dried her hair. "I really don't care who she dates, as long as whomever it is treats her well. Firefighter, doctor, lawyer, street sweeper, ballet dancer. Cop."

Holly looked wistful. "I wouldn't have fallen in love with a cop if I'd a choice in the matter. I can't fathom being in love with a firefighter."

"Bit early for love declarations."

Her wife made an agreeing noise. "Falling for, then."

"It's worse when you're not one." Gail hung up her towel. "A cop I mean. I expect my family and friends to get hurt or in danger. You..." She shook her head.

Her wife shook her head. "I'm not the one who went catatonic when Andy called." Holly pulled her sleep wear out. "You practically went vasovagal on me. You got so pale... er."

"How could you tell?" Gail slipped into her nightgown.

"You actually have some skin color," said Holly, teasing. "Hold up your forearm to your stomach. Or thighs."

Gail frowned and did so. There was a difference in hue. "You're practically the same color all over."

"I still wear a bikini in summer."

Still. She still was fit and felt beautiful in a bikini. She was still all legs and a shapely ass and curves that Gail could be lost in for days. She was still everything that had sucked Gail's breath away and stolen her heart.

"You, Holly Stewart, are my everything," said Gail.

Her wife blushed and sat down on the bed beside Gail. Silently, Holly took Gail's hand and grinned that wonderful, quirky, smile to the side. That warm look in Holly's eyes spoke nothing of their physical attraction.

It was just love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way back in OWtO, chapter 98, Gail and Vivian bumped into a parolee named McGann. Congratulations everyone who caught that one. Did I plan this out from that moment? Yes. The reveal of Jamie's past was scripted before chapter 1 of this fic was written. Originally, Jamie explained a lot more, but in the interest of drama, it'll be drawn out. Yes, Vivian will get the story.
> 
> Also Gail is mis-remembering her events as to when Nerd Bait happened. In her defense, Andy got into a lot of shit, and she confused 'the time Andy was shot' with 'the time Andy was choked by a crazy army guy.'


	19. 02.09 Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pick Peck. Vivian becomes the first Peck in generations to be able to partake in the scavenger hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now our birds come home to roost.
> 
> This chapter takes place over five days. Five very action packed days.

Having a hickey on one's neck as a teen was amusing. As a twenty year old it was something to be teased about. At thirty it got eyerolls. Forty and fifty year olds were told they were too old for that shit. Going on sixty, Holly wondered if she was near the point in life where people might congratulate her.

Still, she texted Gail to inform her she sucked because neither Shay Peck nor Sue Tran would give her any quarter.

"Hey check it out, matching hickeys!"

Holly sighed and looked at the duo- no, the quartet. With the firefighter captain and the ETF lieutenant was Kelly the arson specialist and the youngest Peck. Vivian. Who was blushing. Matching? She eyed her daughter's neck and spotted ... It was more of a bite than a hickey, but there it was. Her daughter had a pretty obvious one on her neck. Heh. Gail would be delighted.

"Glad to see you're keeping McGann out of trouble, coz," said Shay, teasing.

"Who's this?" Sue perked up and eyed Vivian. "You've got a girlfriend?"

"Oh my god." Vivian shook her head. "I ought to tell all the rookies how you dated, and dumped, Dov."

Sue looked offended. "Who told you that?"

"Dov." Vivian smiled an evil, sharp, Peck smile. "Yes, I'm dating a firefighter from Captain Peck's station. Her name is Jamie McGann. Can we light things on fire now?"

Both the senior officers laughed. "She's got you there," said Kelly, smiling. "I keep telling you not to date in-house."

"No one asked you," snapped Shay, before he could go any further.

Holly shook her head and caught sight of Vivian's hickey. "Tug your collar up," she advised her daughter.

"Won't help." Vivian tugged though. "Did you see the lab tests?"

"I did." Holly beamed at her daughter. "The lab was abuzz about it."

Excitedly, her daughter explained how she used the air filters and the ignition, and how the various parts from the car and the liquid in the refuse had combined. "The coolest thing is that it's because of Mom that I got it!"

"Mom — Gail?"

Vivian nodded and gestured at Sue. "Lt. Tran told me about how she and Gail exonerated Steve from the bomb in evidence."

It took a moment, but Holly remembered that day when the bomb went off and she'd met Gail at the station. And blushed. She remembered hauling Gail into interrogation as well. "Well now. The circle is complete," Holly said to Sue.

"Of course, this isn't a bomb," said Kelly, the voice of correction. "And technically the lab figured out most of this."

Holly chuckled. "I take it Gail's story inspired you to find that trigger?"

Nodding, her daughter opened her mouth to delve into that story, only to have Kelly cut her off with a cough. "Who are we waiting on?"

"Trujillo," said Vivian. "She's working this part for Sgt. Simmons."

Holly frowned. Trujillo. She was newish. One of Gail's baby detectives. And Gail was allowing her to be in charge of the arsons. That was interesting. A baby detective and their baby cop. Gail and John must have a great deal of confidence in them both. "And what does Trujillo think?"

Tapping on his phone, Kelly answered. "She defers to my vast and copious experience—"

"Ego," Shay said, interrupting.

"Same thing." Sue smirked unkindly.

Kelly ignored them both, which was more than Holly might have mustered. Certainly more than Gail would have. "Young Peck here was right about the construct of the fire starter devices. They're able to be timed with a slow, safe, burn. Which is why Tran is here, though. Slow burns are her forte."

"You're only saying that because I turned you down." But Sue was grinning. "It's damned ingenious. All it needs is the right amount of heat, chemical or otherwise."

"Which is why my lab's had a devil of a time isolating," Holly interjected. She knew that part. When an arsonist used seven different starters, it made for headaches.

Shay rolled her eyes, looking remarkably like her cousin. Shay was taller, though, and her hair was starting to grey. "If we're done playing exposition fairies, here comes Trujillo. Shall we blow things up now?"

Safely behind the bomb glass, they all watched as the various versions of the fire starters were kicked off, all making notes as it went. Vivian was attached to Trujillo's side, pointing out various things like an excited puppy. On Vivian's other side, Sue watched with deep interest.

So there was the future for her daughter, no questions need be asked. The girl was as excited about bombs and time delayed arson as she was about her girlfriend. When Sue and Kelly started to ask her about how she'd contain the explosions since none were reported at the scene, Vivian's answers were serious and well thought out.

In short, this was something she was made for.

After Trujillo and Vivian left, the detective tasking the patrol constable with some beat cop follow ups, Holly made sure to pull Sue aside. "Sue... She's going to apply."

"I know." Sue sighed. "She's got the head for bomb dispersal. Calm in a crisis and she never stops thinking."

Those traits Holly was so proud of, the analytical mind that Vivian had grown under Holly and Gail's wings, was exactly what made her right for that kind of job. "Which is your way of telling me, she's going to get in if she applies," she said to Sue.

With a nod, Sue sucked on her lower lip. "Her record is sealed," said the ETF lieutenant at length.

Holly winced. Of course Sue looked. She'd have looked. Everyone looked. And a cop with a sealed record from when she was six was certainly eyebrow raising. "We promised, Gail and I, that we wouldn't talk about it with the Division. Or the police. Unless we legally have to. She deserves that."

Right away, Sue nodded. "She does! God, not even a question, Holly! I just... I want to make sure she's not a ticking time bomb."

They both paused and broke into awkward laughter. "Sue, that's horrible."

"Shut up! I didn't think my sentence through!"

"No kidding!" Holly wiped at her eyes. "Oh. No, no, Sue. It has nothing to do with that." In fact, Holly thought that it would be better for her daughter. Not as many people, and if she was in bombs and not some of the other aspects... "Do a lot of people apply for the bomb part?"

"No. Just nut jobs like me." Sue smiled brightly.

While she smiled to Sue, Holly felt unsettled. Was Sue just saying all that because she thought Holly wanted to hear it? To hear that her kid was good, maybe gifted, at a rare aspect of police work? Or maybe Sue felt that the truth was best and this was all what it was.

Holly distracted herself with the routine of the lab. The follow up of arson evidence, making sure it hadn't just looked right but the residual was correct, took quite a while and the data was interesting. Holly didn't often get to mire herself in the details of those cases (bombs and fires were neither her forte nor her passion), but since the Summerland Arsons (named after the first location) were such a large case, she'd no doubt be expected to know the data backwards and forwards.

"Uh oh," said the familiar voice of her wife. "What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing!" That was her daughter.

Looking up, Holly saw them both, still dressed for the workday, holding takeout bags. What? She stared at the clock on her wall, then her computer, and then her watch. It was one in the afternoon. "Oh. Did I miss something?"

"Nope." Gail walked in and put her bag on the coffee table before going back to kiss Holly. "We wanted to surprise you. Junior here is officially assigned to the arson case."

Vivian turned a little pink. "Trujillo is letting me be her point for patrol. McNally approved it and everything."

"Well. At least you and Jamie can shop talk in bed," said Holly absently, getting up. Her daughter turned even pinker and Holly bit back a laugh. "Oh, honey, you are your mother's daughter."

It didn't matter which one.

* * *

Jamie picked up a picture on Vivian's dresser. "Who is this not-you?"

"Not me?"

"This photo. It's a kid, and it looks like you, but that's not you."

Frozen as she pulled her boot on, Vivian realized there was only one 'not her' that Jamie might be looking at. The other photos on the walls and the dresser were of her, but almost always with her Peck/Stewart family. Which meant the photo was… She looked up and sighed to see her girlfriend holding _that_ photo. "Oh. That would be my, er, sister."

Her girlfriend turned, surprised, and eyed Vivian. "You have a sister?"

"Had." Vivian corrected and leaned over to buckle her boot. "Kimmy was almost nine."

There was a soft clack of the photo going back down and, a moment later, the bed dipped as Jamie sat down beside her. "Sorry."

Frowning, Vivian glanced up. "Why?"

"I mean I'm sorry she died. Not that I'm sorry I asked." Jaime leaned in and bumped her shoulder against Vivian's. "Sometimes you're an idiot. You know that, right?"

"Oh. Yeah." Vivian leaned back, propping herself up on her hands. "Is it weird? To have her photo?"

"A little," said Jamie, thoughtfully. "I mean, you don't have your, ah, birth parents. It's all the Pecks and Stewarts and then your sister, who you somehow neglected to mention the first time we talked about all that."

Sighing, Vivian recognized the meaning behind Jamie's words. She also didn't correct the use of 'who' instead of 'whom' in the sentence. "Well. They're dead. He .. He killed everyone."

Jamie blinked, clearly processing the information differently than the first time Vivian had told her 'everyone' was dead. "Even your sister... Was there anyone else?"

"No." Vivian scratched her neck. Of course there was much more to it, and Vivian didn't feel capable of delving into it, not even now. "I don't really have a lot of memories about them. I remember sneaking into Kimmy's bed to sleep, or her in mine, and getting carsick on a road trip, and that's really it. Just weird snippets." She looked at the photo across the room. "That was the summer before they died. And… I'm pretty sure afterwards, my … My birth father got all mad Kimmy had gotten ice cream on her shirt."

Jamie put a hand on Vivian's knee and exhaled loudly. "You don't have to talk about them."

"I know." She did know. "But. You asked."

That had been their deal. If Jamie asked, and she could ask anything, Vivian would do her best to answer. Even if the answers were weird and took a long time to come out as anything understandable.

"Why do you keep a picture of her? I mean, up on the dresser. I'm assuming you have pictures of the others?"

"Oh, yeah. Moms have them in the attic. My grandparents and crap too." Vivian looked over the other photos. There was Gail and Holly, a dual-selfie taken in the snow in the backyard at the house. There was Holly swinging off the rope at the cottage, Vivian laughing in the background. There was Vivian, in uniform, at the Academy graduation, with her Moms smiling with her. There was Matty and Vivian on the day he got his driver's license. Happy moments. "That's … So that's the only photo I've got where she's really happy. And I'm still pissed at everyone else, so I don't want to look at them. Ever."

In the back of her head, Vivian knew how that sounded. Nineteen years later, she was still pissed off, hurt, and confused by what her ... They ... He ... Fuck. The whole thing still stung. She stood up and went to put her uniform in her bag.

Jamie said nothing for a while, sitting thoughtfully on the end of the bed. "I get that," she said at last. "Being mad."

"My therapist's still on my case about it." Vivian unlocked her gun safe and pulled out her badge and gun.

"Well that's her job. Mine is to be a girlfriend. We tend to pick your side."

Vivian blinked and looked at Jamie in the mirror. Her girlfriend was grinning. "Is that how it works? Maybe that's why everyone dumps me..."

The firefighter tossed her hair out of her face. "Let's see. You can't sleep at someone else's so you always bail, you hate talking about yourself because someone always asks about your family who are dead, which I agree is hella awkward. I mean... God, how many dates went tits up after they asked if you had any siblings?" Jamie made a face. "You, Peck, are an enigma wrapped up in angst that you don't want to slap people with. Which is really wonderful and tragic at the same time."

It was a weird relief to have someone say all that and be okay with it. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say now." Vivian checked her handgun was fine and locked the safe again. "Except... I think I get why Gail just kisses Holly every time she babbles."

Jamie laughed. "Kisses her? To shut her up? That... That sounds like your moms alright."

"I know, right? You need a ride in?"

Shaking her head, Jamie hopped off the bed and stepped into her sneakers. "I snagged a spot. We meeting tonight at the Penny?"

"That's the plan." She grinned and leaned in, kissing Jamie.

She was still grinning when she rolled into the Division and spotted Chloe talking in Andy's office. She nearly plowed into Duncan when Chloe frowned and pointed at Rich. Oh. Quickly Vivian did math and grinned ear to ear. Oh hell yeah.

"Watch it," said Duncan, catching her upper arm. "Don't wanna spaz today."

"That's today?" Vivian felt her heart rate jump. That was practically confirmation.

"Shh! You're not supposed to know!"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "It's the right time of year, Duncan. October's not too cold. Cold enough we wear warm shit to cover up. And don't think I don't know about the big UC op Price is working on. Cramming us into hookers _and_ the hunt this year? With the arsons? Come on." She slapped his arm and hustled to change into her uniform.

"You're chatty with Duncan," teased Lara.

"I'm prayin' for Pick Peck right now."

"Says the girl on arson."

Of course Lara had a point. But. This was the one thing her mother had never been able to do. "Hush. Did you see Price up there?"

Lara nodded. "Another boring stakeout in a van. Yawnsville, population us."

"Oh no, this is something else." Vivian grinned and shimmied into her uniform. "Come on, you don't want to miss this."

She left her classmate baffled and grabbed a seat at Parade. Most of Andy's admonitions and warnings were filed away in her back brain as she waited for it. "And. Last but not least, I want to let you know that, uh, some of the rookies will be sitting out of rotation today."

There it was. Vivian exhaled and fought the smile off her face. Chloe spotted it anyway and rolled her eyes. Vivian mouthed a sorry and watched Andy.

"Detective Price is sending three rooks out on the infamous scavenger hunt, so wish 'em luck," explained Andy. Then she sighed. "Volk, Fuller, Peck. Stay behind for your briefing. Aronson and Hanford, you're riding together. Everyone else, assignments are on the board. Serve. Protect. Good luck."

Now Vivian let herself grin. She knew she had been the last second squeeze in for the hookers. That they needed someone to pass for that guise and that Christian and Rich would never work was sheer luck. This, though. This meant she'd been getting it right and, unlike her mother, didn't stand out too much in the wrong way.

"Peck. What's the drill?" Andy pointed at her as soon as the room emptied.

She cleared her throat. "We're dropped off in nowheresville. Plainclothes. We have no money, wallet, IDs. No badges or phones or trackers. No guns. Goal is to get as much contraband as possible and be back by ... Six AM. In uniform."

Chloe smiled. "Very good. You can be a team, or not. Pick a character, and whatever you do, commit to it."

Raising his hand, Christian stammered. "Uh, h-how do we know who we should be?"

With a shrug, Chloe went on. "Be yourself, or be the opposite of yourself. I don't care. Use what you know. Know what you don't know." Chloe waved a hand. "You have one hour to be back here, ready. Skedaddle."

They started to clear the room when Andy coughed. "Before you go. My office. All of you."

C hissed at Vivian, as they walked to Andy's office, "What does she want?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"Heyo, how many generations of Peck? Come on. Dish."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "For the record? No idea. My mom was too stand-out looking to do it."

Before anyone made a snide comment, Lara nodded. "She's practically glamourous. Like Marilyn Monroe levels of SA."

It had been a while since Vivian had heard SA for sex appeal. "Stop reading those Victorian bodice rippers," she advised Lara.

"Edwardian, thank you." They shared a grin. "Your mom is hot, though. I wonder why Rich went for the doc and not the inspector anyway?"

Christian rolled his eyes. "He said Gail terrifies him."

"Smartest thing he's ever said," said Andy. "Peck. You first."

Vivian shrugged at her classmates and followed McNally in. "Ma'am?" She closed the door behind her.

"Game's different this year. You have an extra goal." And Andy stopped there, looking expectant.

Studying her sergeant's face, Vivian tried to guess. "You want me to try and check out suppliers for our firebrand?" Andy nodded once. Wow. "Uh. Okay. But -" The sergeant held up a piece of paper.

"Memorize the list. Those are where Trujillo things it's most likely your boy is getting supplies these days."

Vivian nodded, feeling whey faced and scared. "But what if they know I'm a cop?"

"That's the beauty. Tell them the truth. You're supposed to score as much drug as possible."

Not feeling the delight McNally was brimming with, Vivian could only nod and memorize the locations.

* * *

Gail felt hollow. The first time this had happened, they had been in and out of the hospital so fast, it was almost hilarious. This time Gail found herself sitting in an uncomfortable chair, holding her mother's hand, watching machines beep.

But now, here she was, waiting.

The phone call scared the shit out of her. She'd been joking with Andy and Dov about who they'd bet on in the hunt. Dov picked the dark horse, Christian, saying that he was the one with hidden depths. Andy liked Lara, whom they all agreed would apply for the detective rotation later that year. Gail and Traci had picked Peck, out of familial requirements, and were told their bets were invalid.

And as they had joked, her phone rang and the hospital asked her to please come in. Miss Elaine Peck needed bypass surgery. Now.

Never in her life had Gail actually been scared for her mother.

Possibly never before had Gail realized she genuinely loved her own mother, and that was a rather horrifying thing to say. But it was true. She did love her mother, even if she'd never said the words. She cared about Elaine greatly, couldn't imagine her life without the woman, and actually cried with relief when the doctor came out to say Elaine was going to be just fine.

As she sat in Elaine's private room, Gail made the calls to everyone. First to Steve and Holly and Gordo, whom she'd called before, to update them. Then to Andy to apologize for running out. Andy understood and didn't even tease Gail about running off. The news spread quickly after that. Many of Elaine's old coworkers called to ask what they could do and Gail ruthlessly dumped them in Gordo's lap.

Except Oliver. Because, see, he knew Elaine Armstrong. And he was Oliver.

Oliver she dumped her own terror on when he asked how _she_ was.

"I'm not ready for this," she said quietly into the phone.

"No one is, darlin'. When my old man died, I was a mess for months."

"I remember." Gail wiped at her eyes. "I didn't feel like this when Dad died."

"Hey, Elaine's not dead," Oliver said firmly. Comfortingly. "She had a second heart attack. She had bypass. What kind was it?"

"Triple. And a weird tube thing in a vein. Ventricle. Whichever."

"Nice," he said with a laugh. "She's going to be okay. You should go home."

"Can't." The surgery had gone well, thankfully, but Elaine still hadn't woken up and Gail was staying until she did.

"You mean won't."

Gail sighed. "Ollie. We made it here. We talk about things. Me and Mom. I ... I love my mom, and I'm staying here until she wakes up. Captain Stupid can take over after."

Oliver laughed again. It was so warming. "How's Keystone?"

"He went to get us food."

"Ah. Well. I think you should sign a paper and let Elaine's gentleman take over for you two tonight." When Gail mumbled a maybe, Oliver asked something else. "Why is your Young Peckling not there?"

"She's been dropped in the wilds of Toronto." They would have pulled her if they could. But she had no phone, no ID, and no way of being found. She had a city card, to use if she needed to get home, but Gail knew her daughter wouldn't. They had taped a note to her bike and her bedroom door, telling her to call home ASAP, and patrol would haul her in if they had cause to pick her up, but... Vivian was in the wind until at least 6 tomorrow morning.

"Shitty timing."

"I know. I kinda feel like déjà vu all over again." Gail rubbed her thumb across the back of Elaine's hand. When had Elaine gotten old? Her skin felt thin, as if Gail could tear it by touching. The veins stood out, the blue bright against the pale skin that was as Peck as anything.

"Look. She's gonna be okay. Both of them. So remember to talk to your wife. Okay?"

Gail exhaled loudly. "Okay." Then she added, quietly. "Thanks."

"Any time, darlin. You're my favorite."

Everyone was Oliver's favorite, but Gail smiled anyway. It felt good. "I know," she replied, and Oliver laughed.

Hanging up, Gail texted an update to Holly (no change) and sat in the quiet. Her mother was breathing and looked peaceful. Gail squeezed Elaine's hand and watched her sleep. Was it creepy? It was family. Gail had done the same with Vivian when she slept off the painkillers from her appendectomy. She'd done it with Holly when she was swimming out of the abyss from narcotics, the afternoon Holly had broken her wrist.

It was hard to say.

"She still out?" Her brother came back in and sat next to her, holding out a take out box. Chinese. The stress food of Pecks.

"Yeah. Holly said it'd be another hour or two at most, depending." She popped it open and frowned at the healthy food therein. Steamed brown rice and vegetables. Damn it. Not even a good meaty sauce. Just chicken.

Steve grunted. "And where is my wonderful sister in law?"

"She really hates hospitals, Steve."

"Which is nuts for a doctor."

Gail looked up. "She saw her assistant die in this hospital. I'm not making her watch my mom lie here." Her brother looked ashamed. "I don't like taxis, my wife doesn't like hospitals. And Mom had a heart attack."

"Triple bypass. Mom never does anything on a small scale." Steve looked at their mother sadly. "Uncle Eli is getting checked out right now. I have a blood draw next week. You ought to."

With a snort, Gail put Elaine's hand back on the bed. "Unlike you, my idiot brother, I take excellent care of my health." It would be more accurate to say Holly took excellent care of Gail's health. Her heart, her cholesterol, her calcium levels, everything was checked regularly. Over the last eight years, Gail had changed her diet and exercise patterns in order to live a long and happy life.

Because it all mattered. Because she wanted to be with Holly for as long as possible. Because she wanted to be there for her daughter as long as possible. Because it was important.

"Yeah, why is that?"

"Because ... Steve I finally figured out I could be happy. And I love my wife, my kid, my family. I can be happy and I want them to be happy. I can't do that if I take stupid risks and die."

"You're a good daughter."

They both startled and stared at Elaine. "Crap, she's dying," Gail said under her breath.

Elaine snorted, her eyes open but bleary. "They didn't put a stake in it, Gail, stop being melodramatic."

"Oh thank god," Steve said loudly. "Mom, don't scare us like that. You were ... Nice."

"I am nice," argued Elaine. "Where's my granddaughter? She'll tell you that."

"Beats me." Gail pulled her phone out. "Chloe dropped her, Lara, and Christian out in the back ass of the city and told them to come home."

Elaine made an ahhh noise. "Scavenger hunt. You're too noticeable. Both of you, my pale, pale, progeny."

"You're no dark something yourself, Mom," laughed Steve.

Gail smiled and texted Holly, letting her know Elaine was awake. "At least you stopped dying your hair."

"Had to." Elaine smiled up at Gail. "You gave me a granddaughter."

"Oh good, I can keep dying mine for years," joked Gail. Her phone buzzed. "Holly's glad you're awake."

Closing her eyes, Elaine nodded a little. "She won't come to see me?"

Gail shrugged. "You know she hates hospitals."

"Poor Holly." Elaine was more sympathetic than Steve. "I like Holly. I'm glad you married her."

Steve and Gail shared a look. "Oh man, Mom, you are on the good drugs."

"It's nicer than being drunk," admitted Elaine. "I have a nice mellow." And she started humming and half singing a song.

Gail stifled a laugh. This was how Holly (and Andy and Vivian) described Gail when on painkillers. This was how Steve was when he'd been in the hospital. "Well. There's an old question answered," she said.

"Holy crap. We get it from Mom," said Steve, equally stunned. "But Mom can drink anyone under the table!"

"Is she singing ... That's why the lady is a tramp?"

And indeed. Elaine was high as a kite, singing. Gail grinned ear to ear and pulled out her phone to record the moment. This was getting played at Elaine's next birthday.

* * *

As soon as Holly walked into the Penny, Dov rocketed over. "How is she?"

"Gail's fine-"

"No, Ms. Peck, her mom. She okay?"

Holly eyed Dov curiously. Everyone was looking at her. Even the bartender. "Elaine's okay. The surgery was a success. She woke up and was talking to Gail for a while."

The tension in the room washed away and people seemed relieved. Holly had no idea that so many people cared about Elaine Peck. Maybe it was the result of the last fifteen or so years of support for everyone... Because Elaine had taken time to talk to Dov about his transfer to the big building. And Elaine had helped Andy when she failed miserably in the K-9 unit. Traci had been coached by Elaine when she went for Inspector. Even Gerald had listened to Elaine when he flunked the sergeants exam. Three times.

Now, in the days when Elaine's power in the police force was gone, she was actually _more_ of a presence. She was the heart behind Fifteen in many ways and they liked her. No. No they loved her. Maybe when Elaine was home they'd all show up and say hello. Holly would have to make sure they did. Elaine would love it. Gail would hate it if it was her, but Elaine was a bit of a drama queen.

Holly texted Gail to let her know what was going on, and Gail replied with the laughing/crying cat emoji. Then Gail texted to say she'd be by after Gordo showed up. Good. Gail wasn't going to stay all night. She took her drink from the bartender with a smile and was just sitting at their regular table when someone shouted.

"Hey, who let the hose monkey in?"

Hose monkey? Holly blinked and glanced over to see one of the younger cops hassling a familiar face. What was Jamie, her daughter's girlfriend and a firefighter, here at a cop bar? According to Gail, those lines were never crossed alone. Oh, Jamie was probably looking for Vivian, and instead she'd run into Rich. "Rich," Holly said over the room's noise. "She's with me."

The jovial teasing stopped cold. "Oh... Sorry, Dr. Stewart. Uh. Round's on me." Rich looked terrified and went to the bar in a rush.

Jamie looked appreciative as she sat down. "Thanks."

"Any time." Holly smiled and tried to figure out how to safely ask the next question of why Jamie was here without Vivian.

"Why is that idiot terrified of you?"

"Oh. That's Rich."

Jamie grinned. "Oh _that's_ Rich!" Clearly she'd heard the story. "I take it the Pecks aren't here yet?"

"Oh... Wow. No. It's a weird night." And then Holly realized that Vivian had forgotten to cancel a date. God. Her idiot daughter. "Did Viv not call you?"

"No…" Jamie looked abruptly worried.

Patting Jamie's hand, Holly smiled warmly. "She's not ditching you."

Jamie sighed. "I hope not. Ruby, my roommate, made up with one of her boyfriends."

Making a face, Holly understood. Or at least she thought she did. At least she understood the important part. "Loudly and at home? Yeah, I had roommates at your age."

Jamie grinned. "It's annoying. No offense."

"None taken. Viv used to say the same thing about us."

A quartet of beers came to the table. "So they are coming?" Jamie picked a bottle up and sipped it.

"Supposedly. Gail's ... " Holly paused. Was it appropriate to tell one's daughter's girlfriend about one's mother-in-law's heart attack _before_ one told their daughter? No. It was not. "She's with Steve. I'm actually not sure if Vivian's with them."

"Some Peck thing?"

"Well. It's complicated." Holly sighed. "Vivian's on some rookie thing today. They have to be back by 6am tomorrow, but Andy said that sometimes meant being back _at_ six."

Jamie looked confused. "What? Man, cops do weird things."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"She didn't call." Jamie sounded a little perturbed.

"They had very little time to change and go, as I understand it. She didn't call Gail either, and they work in the same building." They hadn't even told her about Elaine because she was in the wind. Holly tried to think about how she could possibly explain any of this, and silently lamenting at how bad the day was turning out.

"Aunt Holly?"

Well. Holly thought her day _could_ get worse. "Olivia!" She got to her feet and hugged her virtual niece. "What are you doing here?"

"Ouch!" The young woman laughed. "Sophie's birthday. And I haven't been home in, like, a year." Olivia glanced at the other woman at the table.

Jamie was smiling, politely, but recognition was clearly dawning. "Hi." She gestured with her bottle of beer and looked at Holly, expectantly.

The ball was in her court. "Right. Ah, Olivia Best, Jamie McGann." Holly faltered. Why did the universe hate her?

Olivia eyed Jamie. "Do you know why Holly's acting weird?"

"I do." Jamie nodded. "She's trying to figure out how to introduce Vivian's girlfriend to her ex."

And Olivia laughed. "Oh. Yeah. She'd be crap at that." Sitting down, Olivia held out her hand. "So this is awkward. Hi, Olivia. Nice to meet you."

"Jamie. I've heard a lot about you." There was a tense pause. "Mostly good things. Except for the time you puked in her car."

"Oh that was a bad day."

Holly slowly sat back down, tapping an sos on her watch. Gail replied quickly, saying she was on her way. Very carefully, Holly watched the two young women talk around their shared relationship, and eased her phone out of her pocket to text a longer explanation.

_Olivia and Jamie are here._

Gail's reply was a panicked cat faced emoji and a 'BRT.' Thank god.

"She's texting Aunt Gail," said Olivia, conspiratorially.

"I would if I were her. But to be honest, I'm not sure what the Pecks are up to." Jamie pulled her phone out and tapped at it. "Well. Vivian hasn't replied to a text all day and Holly said that was normal."

"She won't." Gail reached around for a beer. "She's somewhere between here and the airport, trying to pick up illegal narcotics and weapons. No phone. Just a city pass for the bus." When Jamie looked confused, Gail added, "Scavenger hunt. We use it to sort out which kids are good at certain ops and which aren't."

Holly felt relieved as Gail sat down. Except for the part where they were stuck with two women their daughter had dated. "How is ... Everything?"

Leaning in to kiss her, Gail shrugged. "Mom's awake, high as a kite. Steve went home. Uncle Eli's freaking out. Gordo's staying with her tonight." To the girls, she added, "Elaine had a heart attack. Her second. She's fine. Cantankerous old bitch that she is. And no, Viv doesn't know because we can't find her. And yes, that's expected and normal. How are you guys?"

Both Jamie and Olivia looked a little shocked. "I'm sorry," said Jamie first. "Are you okay?"

Gail looked surprised to be asked. "Me? Not like I'm the one in the hospital."

Oh. It was one of those things. Gail would be a ball of angst later. "You call it a scavenger hunt?" Holly put a hand on Gail's thigh. Distraction tactics for now. "What'd you find? A hidden lair?"

"Yeah. I didn't do it. Too blonde and pale."

"You practically are a vampire, Aunt Gail." Olivia grinned.

Sticking her tongue out, Gail smirked. "Nobody asked you, smart ass. Your mom kicked ass at it though." Then she asked. "Why are you here? Not that it isn't nice to see you, but your folks don't work here anymore."

"Sophie's birthday. The big 30." Olivia grinned. "Since we missed her twenty fifth with her being in the US..."

Gail looked horrified. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and everyone else."

"I know, right?" Olivia turned to Jamie. "My mom did the same thing."

"What the hell is it this year? We had our 20th, Steve retired, now Sophie's thirty... Oh my god. Holly!" Gail suddenly looked gleeful. "Traci's fifty!"

Holly snorted. "That's where you went with all this?"

Gail grinned. "Hey, I have to have some joy. She's younger than I am."

Watching the interplay, Jamie half-smiled. "I have trouble believing you're fifty, Gail."

"Thank you!" She pointed at Jamie. "This is why I like her."

"I think that was a comment on your immature behavior, Gail," said Holly, drawling her words. Jamie wisely looked innocent while Gail spluttered. Smiling, Holly reached over and crooked her fingers under Gail's chin, drawing her in for a kiss. "Should I be worried about Viv?"

Gail sighed softly. "No. This is pretty tame. Only people who got into trouble the last twenty years... Andy and Gerald."

Both Olivia and Jamie looked confused. It was Jamie who asked, "Gerald's a real person? I thought he was a made up example..."

"He is. He is," grinned Gail. "Gerald. Gerald is still at Fifteen. He ended up arrested for jacking a car. It was filled with heroin though. Mixed bag I guess."

Holly shook her head. She remembered when it had happened. The old guard had laughed so hard that night. And now, having Jamie and Olivia in the same room, seemed to be tempered just by Gail chatting with them. It was as if nothing was odd. This was normal, expected, and okay.

"What did Andy do?"

"Slept with her TO, Swarek," said Gail, dismissively. "Liv, I actually meant why are you here at the Penny?"

Olivia sighed and looked at Jamie, awkwardly. "Waylaying your daughter. I ... Er ... I said something stupid last time I saw her and wanted to apologize."

The table got nervous. Did Jamie know? Of all things, Jamie nodded. "You kissed her. And yes, she told me."

Well didn't that put it all out there. Olivia winced. "That. Yeah."

Gail shook her head. "I recommend calling her first next time."

"So noted." Olivia sipped her beer and turned to look dead on at Jamie. "So, Jamie. What do you do?" Olivia was the picture of innocence. A look Holly never in her life trusted.

"I'm a firefighter," said Jamie, and she actually did seem innocent.

Olivia startled and looked at Gail. "Wow... times change."

With a grin, Jamie picked up her beer. "Not too much. I asked her out at a crime scene."

"That's my girl," said Gail, smirking. "And before you ask, Jamie, Olivia's in medicine. Trying to cure cancer."

"Heavy," said Jamie, looking a little impressed and daunted. "I take back what I said about Vivian telling me about you."

Olivia snorted. "Please, the girl barely talks. Getting more than a sentence out of her at a time is harder than -"

"Cleaning your room?" Gail grinned her most evil.

"Backing out of a garage," offered Holly.

"Oh! Getting away with a house party while your two cool parents are out of town." Laughing unkindly, Gail turned to Jamie. "She's fucked. I've changed her diapers."

Jamie shook her head. "So, so very glad I met you as an adult."

Olivia sighed. "I had no choice. My mom was her TO."

"Your mom got knocked up on accident too, chuckles, and don't forget it." Gail had teased Olivia and her parents about that for years.

Holly rolled her eyes and squeezed Gail's knee. "I love you, knock it off."

"You're right."

That was fast. Holly doubted the sincerity. "I'm right?"

"You're right. I'll save it for when Viv's here and is embarrassed to hell. I mean, what's the point of having a kid if I can't make her life hell?"

Holly sighed. "Why did I marry you?"

The two girls laughed though.

Around eleven, Gail begged out and noted that she needed Holly to drive her home. She'd caught a relay from the hospital. Gail didn't hug anyone, which was normal, but Holly hugged both girls, telling each she was happy to see them.

It wasn't until they were safely in the car that Gail exhaled loudly. "Damn, that was tense."

"The girls?"

"Yeah. They were like feral cats."

Holly had thought it went reasonably well, but was inclined to believe Gail's ability to read people. "Thanks for coming."

"I didn't really want to stay at the hospital once Mom's boyfriend showed up." Gail smirked. She actually did like Gordo, even if she thought he had a stupid name. The man had been Elaine's off and on casual partner for events for six years. They'd only recently transitioned into dating.

"Pretty sure they're just keeping it casual."

"He showed up with flowers. And I bet he asks her to stay with him while she gets better."

"She'll say no," said Holly, knowingly.

Gail sighed. "She will. But. I dunno. How am I supposed to do this?"

"The part when you're trying to encourage your mother to make her boyfriend a serious thing? Beats me."

Huffing, Gail crossed her arms. "You're no help."

"I'm awesome help."

"You're terrible relationship help, Holly Stewart."

Smiling, Holly leaned across the center console to kiss Gail softly. "I succeeded at one relationship in my life, Gail Peck. And I succeeded where it mattered."

The blonde sighed deeply. "Yeah. You did." Holly leaned back to eye Gail and found her smiling softly.

* * *

Four shops down. Four to go. Vivian blew on her hands to warm them and looked around. She'd not found any drugs either. At this rate, Christian would do better, and Vivian knew she'd never live that down.

What she needed to do was to stop thinking about the fact that she'd forgotten to call Jamie and cancel their date. At the Penny. Ugh. Poor Jamie. Someone was going to be an asshole no doubt. No. No, Jamie could take care of herself. One of her friends, maybe Jenny, would tell Jamie where she was. Maybe one of the Old Guard. Maybe her mother.

Good. Putting that out of her head, Vivian leaned against the wall in the alley. Lara had taken off to the airport. C had followed her. Vivian walked with them for a few blocks and then vanished down a side road, waiting long enough to make sure they thought she'd ditched them. That's what Dov told her to do. Leave the herd.

Tugging her winter hat down, she listened to the street. Oliver always told her she could learn to feel the city. So had Elaine, though not in the same words. Hadn't Oliver been Elaine's rookie at some point? And Elaine's advice was to face the world head on. Don't fake it, be who you were.

She sighed and looked over the people walking around. It was too light out for much of this. Who she was, was cold and broke and a little hungry. Vivian walked deeper into the alley. Maybe she could mug someone... No. No, Steve had tried to teach her that and she'd failed. Vivian hunched into her coat and walked deeper into the bowels of the city.

As a young girl, she'd rarely strayed far from the umbrella of her mothers. Before that she didn't clearly remember much except arguments and a house on the edge of the city with a postage stamp excuse for a yard. Vivian frowned. Where was the house? She looked up at the street signs, placing herself in the mental map of Toronto that Elaine had taught.

The house she'd been born to was only a mile away.

Huh. Fifteen minutes.

Checking her watch (the utilitarian one she favored for work), Vivian nodded. Why the hell not. Be who you were, right? Turning to the north, she walked down dingy and ungentrified streets. Her stomach growled as she passed by a greasy shop. Money and food would be nice. That would have to wait. She rounded the last corner and froze.

It was her house. There was the window to her bedroom. Kimmy's bed was on that side, the one by the street. She had the bed by the door. Warmer. Except she used to sneak into her sister's bed sometimes, to not hear the sounds from the other room. The shouting. Her chest tightened and it was, for a moment, hard to breathe.

"Well fuck," she muttered to herself. Had she been wrong to come here? It felt unbalanced and strange. Like she was looking at another life. "Fuck," repeated Vivian.

A child laughed.

Vivian turned and arched her eyebrows. "Funny?"

The child was barely a teen. Maybe fourteen. Probably less. "Why're you swearing at the murder house?"

"Murder house?" She eyed the kid.

"Yeah, twenty years ago some guy went and shot his whole family."

Not the whole family. And less than twenty years. Vivian scowled at the house. Well maybe it was better that everyone thought they were all dead. "There are worse things than dead."

The kid scoffed. "Like what?" Then he eyed her skeptically. "Where you from?"

"Don Fork," she said absently.

His eyes widened. Then they sharpened. It was the same look from Jordan Lewis. A kid (adult now) who had seen too much. "Nuh uh."

She shrugged, shoving her hands deep into her pockets, and was rewarded with the boy flinching. He was expecting a gun. "I'm not an idiot," Vivian told him. She took her hands out of her pockets.

"But ... You are...?"

"I'm nobody." Vivian shrugged again. He looked at her, then to the side and then back. What the hell? Vivian turned to look where he had and saw a car with a door open and another kid. "Oh. In over your head."

The boy nodded. "Know cars?" When Vivian nodded, he jerked his chin to his fellow. "We're stuck."

"Hm." She nodded and walked with him, crossing the street and leaving her house behind her. "Volvo. Not choice."

"Yeah. Well. You know." The kid grunted. "Cheeto an I can't start it."

"Paolo, who this?" The kid's friend eyed Vivian suspiciously. "Po?"

She snorted at them both. "I'm nobody. Cheeto." And the two started to argue in a vaguely familiar language. For a moment, Vivian wished she had Gail's gift of language or her ability to know what to say. Hadn't Gail always been able to do that? No. No, and this was a language someone _else_ was better at.

"Os homi," hissed the one called Cheeto. He wasn't stupid, it seemed.

Vivian rolled her eyes as she recognized it as Portuguese. Chloe's lingua fraca. "Oi, vatos. No one teach you how to jump a picker?" They froze. "Pop the hood."

Paolo grinned. "See? Man, you gotta trust me. She's okay. Look at her. She been in the system." When Cheeto eyed her, Vivian nodded. She always knew, she could tell. Everyone could. "Pop it, mano."

Cheeto scowled and pulled a lever. And popped the trunk. "Fuck," he swore.

"Smooth." Vivian smirked and walked to the back of the car. She half lifted the trunk for leverage and froze. Jesus. Reaching in, she picked up a bag of familiar green herb, slipping it into her pocket and closing the trunk. There was no way she could let the kids keep the car with drugs in it, and it was too much to slip out without them noticing. "Other lever, hero."

The hood was popped and she walked back, shaking her head as if she was disappointed. Cheeto looked embarrassed, but huffed, "You wanna buy it?"

"A POS mom wagon? Why the fuck would I want that?" Vivian propped the hood up and stared at the engine for a moment. It was a newer model. The electronic starter kind one couldn't easily trick under the dash. Reaching into her pocket, Vivian pulled out her knife and used it to pop a seal. "How'd you even get into it?"

Silence.

She paused and leaned around to eye the boys.

"Unlocked," admitted Paolo.

She waited.

"Aw man, come on, she ain't gonna help."

Vivian sighed and closed the hood. "Trade you." The boys stared at her. "I need a car. You're in over your head, jacking this ride." She pulled the weed out of her pocket. "Fair up."

They stared at the weed. "Kush."

"This. But I need a favor."

Cheeto nodded. "You running."

"Ayup." Vivian nodded back. "I need a disposable cell, with a camera."

Bless their stupid hearts, they didn't argue. "There's a store round the corner." Paolo bounced on his toes and ran off.

Moments later, he was back, they had the weed, and Vivian had a car. And a burrito.

Life was weird like that.

She drove through the edge of the city until she found a quiet park, empty at this time of year, and backed into a spot. Vivian had to sort out what the hell to do with the shit in the trunk. There was a backpack, plain black, and the weed had been sitting on top. There was more weed, some cocaine, and... "Uppers. Downers." She frowned and eyed a box of vials, reading the label. "Medical grade ketamine." Vivian hefted a brown package. "No fucking clue..."

She put it all back in the bag and rooted around for any information. An ID would be great. Nada. Not even a slip of paper or a note about the drugs. Well. At least that meant there was nothing to remove. Vivian tossed the backpack onto the passenger seat and got back in the car. Where to go now ...

"I can't keep the car," she said to herself. "I mean I could. But… Who am I? I'm running. I need cash, not some dealer's unlocked car. The kids don't know my name…" Vivian closed her eyes. Of the four shops left on her list, two were also probably chop-shops. The one further away would be safer.

That was it then. She started the car and drove, carefully, not trying to draw any attention to herself. Vivian wondered what it would be like if she ran into someone she knew. But this was well away from her stomping grounds now. And the odds of anyone recognizing her as Vivian Green were next to nothing. It was safe. Except for the fact that, technically speaking, she'd stolen a car.

Well. Gail would be delighted at least. Holly would ask her if she would be charged with anything. No. They got a free pass today. Thankfully.

Pulling up at the second to last chop shop on her list, Vivian checked the time. Eleven ... Okay. They wouldn't be open for honest business. There was a light still on. She parked and took the backpack with her, knocking on the back door.

"Closed! Go away!"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm looking for Sly." She had no idea who Sly was, or if there was a Sly, but it was a good name to guess on.

The door opened. "Who are you?" An angry looking woman in garage overalls glared at her.

"Look, is Sly here or not?"

The woman stared at her. "He took off with his bimbo months ago. Who. Are. You?"

Holy fuck. Jackpot. Vivian remembered her role and groaned in faux annoyance. "Are you fucking kidding me? He said to look him up when I needed ... Shit. Never mind." She turned to the car.

"Hey. What the hell? You showing up the middle of the night and fucking off? Who's Sly to you?"

Vivian leaned on the car, as if the weight of the world settled on her shoulders. "Sly. Owed me one. Said if ... Said he'd help me out when I needed to skip town."

"Why? You kill someone?"

Vivian blinked. "Uh no. Thanks." She reached for the car door. Come on. Bite, fishy.

"Car's hot, ain't it?"

Got her. Vivian froze and swallowed her smile. Nervous. Be nervous. She half turned and looked at the woman. "Not ... Exactly. Cops ain't looking for it." Probably. Vivian highly doubted the owner would call the cops on her.

"Owner is... " The woman stepped out into the night. "Not bad. Not too old. Picked a good one. All your shit out?"

Vivian nodded, tightening her grip on her backpack. "Travel light."

"Got ID?"

"Nope."

"Cash?"

"Nope."

That got her a grunt of approval. "Bring it in. Give you fair up for parts." The woman pressed something and the garage door opened. "Anyone who got fucked over by Sly, practically family."

Yes! Vivian exhaled, expressing relief she actually felt in her bones. Sure, she would have gotten beaucoup bucks for the car, but it was not something she wanted to try. Vivian hopped into the stolen car and eased into the garage. "Thanks. I'd owe you one but..."

"We'll call it even. What's your name, kid?"

Vivian shook her head. "Best not."

The woman laughed. "Alright then."

Hours and hours later, with the sun peeking over the edge of the city, Vivian hopped off the bus right outside Fifteen. Her face stung from the elbow she'd caught at the chop shop (an actual accident), and her backpack was more full of clothes than drugs. She was glad the shop was the hell out of Fifteen's territory. It would suck to have to bust them later.

Hustling into the department, Vivian swore. She had less than ten minutes to clean up, suit up, and get into the conference room. No time for a shower. Vivian washed her face and loaded her pockets. She checked her uniform twice. It would have to do. Then, checking her pockets one last time, she skidded into Parade as the clock hit six.

"Cutting it close, Peck," said Chloe. But there was something odd to her voice. "Nice shiner."

"Looks worse than it is." Vivian eyed the table, where C stood by a small dime bag of weed and some pills. At the end was Lara with a really respectable pile of hard core shit.

Rich smirked from the doorway, watching. "Empty handed, Peck?" Clearly he was miffed to have been left out. Vivian smirked right back and emptied her pockets of the drugs and the money and the phone. Everyone stared for a moment. "What the hell?"

"Uppers, downers, medical grade special k ... I had some weed but I swapped it for a car, which I traded for cash and these." The look of shock on their faces was worth it when she put the high end lock picks down.

But as Vivian prepared to explain her story in full, Chloe shook her head. "Right. Peck, you're off today."

Vivian blinked. What the what? "Off?"

"Off. Wait here though." Andy took the others out, telling them how they'd done a good job, and ordered Rich back to work.

"But..." Vivian gestured at herself.

"Sit." Chloe's voice was odd. Tense.

As Chloe collected the various items into bags, the question dawned on her. "Chloe... Where's my Mom?" Not Detective Price. She was asking her doofy nerd princess aunt who came by for dinner.

Chloe hesitated and then capitulated. She was a mother, after all. "Gail and Holly are fine. So's Steve."

And that told Vivian what she needed to know. She sat down, hard. "Elaine..."

Oh god. How Gail would break.

* * *

"You know you can go," said Elaine as she picked at her blanket.

"Do you want me to go?" Gail looked up from her laptop.

Elaine was quiet for a moment. "No. But it's seven in the morning. Vivian should be back already."

Ah. Gail smiled. "Andy texted. She came back fine and she'll be here soon."

Her mother huffed. "I don't like your smart watch."

"I know." Gail tapped on her keyboard, saving the report. "Wonder why Trujillo's all excited," she said aloud, absently, and closed her laptop. It would wait. They'd call if it couldn't.

Just in time, too. The door opened. "Miss Peck, are you up for another visitor?" The nurse smiled sweetly.

Gail smirked. "Told ya."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "If she's a slightly awkward young woman with hazel eyes and brown hair, please send my granddaughter in. Heavens knows she's more well behaved than her mother."

Amused, the nurse looked at Gail. "Not a difficult task. Though thank you for the muffins."

"Any time, send in the young'un." Gail sat up as her daughter walked in, holding Elaine's favorite flowers and her own motorcycle helmet. "Wow. Nice shiner."

"I got it stripping a Volvo for parts," said Vivian. "Hi, Elaine. How are you holding up?" She put the flowers on the nightstand and kissed Elaine's forehead.

"Better. I'm on some lovely drugs. How was your night?"

"Educational." Vivian sat down and held Elaine's hand. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." Hazel eyes flicked over to Gail. "For both of you."

The thing was... Gail could hear the absolute sincerity in her daughter's voice. Sitting up, Gail scooted over to be beside the youngest Peck. "We're fine," Gail said softly. "Well... I'm fine. Mom, on the other hand, has a sick scar."

Elaine smiled a little druggily. "Wanna see?"

Tension in Vivian's shoulders slid out. "No, no thanks."

The door opened again and the nurse brought an ice pack. "Your eye looks painful," she informed Vivian, vanishing again.

"Yeah, it does," agreed Gail. She took hold of Vivian's chin to get a better look. "Caught an elbow?"

"Yeah, we couldn't get the door off." Vivian put the ice pack against her face and hissed a little.

"I," said Elaine imperiously, "want a story. Tell me about the scavenger hunt."

Hesitantly at first, Vivian gave in and started the story. She left out parts, Gail was sure, but when she got to the part where they stripped the car, Vivian explained she'd started asking questions. Her cover story was amusing. Vivian was one of the strays left over from the gang wars of less than a year ago. She'd left it vague as to if she was a Hill or a Three Rivers, and simply implied she needed to get out of Toronto with no ID or cash.

Gail grinned as Vivian explained how she'd befriended people. Broken people. Vivian had always been able to connect with people who were damaged, the people who wouldn't ask about her demons. Really they weren't friends. They were people who shared a natural distrust of others, who knew exactly how evil things could be, and who would stand together when needed.

They couldn't be relied on for long, though. That was a truth all Pecks knew. No one but Pecks could be relied on. And the Pecks were dangerous. You trusted them with your life, but never your secrets.

While that had been Gail's truth, Vivian's was a little different. Vivian actually did trust her family. She trusted some of her cousins. She trusted her classmates and Fifteen. But never with her heart or her secrets.

"But, the best part is that I found where everyone sells the scrap Volvo parts," concluded Vivian, grinning ear to ear.

Ruining the reveal, Elaine snored.

Mother and daughter smothered their laughter. "Come on, junior. Lemme buy you breakfast and you can tell me all about that?" Gail shoved her laptop into the bag.

"I have to go back to the station and tell Trujillo..." Vivian yawned. "God. Can I maybe put that off?"

"Did you write it all down and email it in?" When Vivian nodded, Gail clapped her shoulder. "Go home. I'll tell Trujillo you're still out."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "You're not? Mom, not to be that way but she's your mother. I'd be in there 24/7 with you, and not 'cause Mom has flashbacks when she's here."

"Ah. You are not me, monkey." And their relationship was nothing at all like Elaine and Gail's. They talked, shared their feelings, and were generally a family. "And Traci's coming after Parade to take over. We're not leaving her alone."

The brown head nodded. "Okay." She picked up her helmet. "Is the breakfast here any good?"

"Oh no, it's shit. But it's here." Gail smiled and led her down the hall to get some food.

* * *

"Does it feel too big?" Gail was standing in the living room, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"What?" Holly eyed her wife as she put the groceries on the counter. They'd both gone in to work for half a day, but Holly had made sure to get Gail out after lunch. The Division did not need a fussy Gail Peck lurking and claiming to work.

"The house. We have three bedrooms, an office, and it's just the two of us. It's _huge_."

Ah. Holly walked up behind Gail and rested her cheek on Gail's shoulder. "You're feeling an empty nest." Her wife grumbled, so Holly wrapped her arms around Gail's waist and squeezed her close.

"I mean we could ask Elaine to move in..."

Holly made a face. "Honey. Your mother is fine. And if I thought for a second that you and she could live under the same roof without one of you shooting the other, I would endorse this plan."

Her wife grunted. "I know." And then Gail muttered. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Closing her eyes, Holly leaned against Gail. "Maybe she'll get married."

"My mom? Ew, you're right. I don't want Gordo moving in."

Holly pinched Gail's side. "Vivian. Maybe she'll get married one day and have kids. Then we can steal grandbabies to fill out the house."

Gail laughed softly. "I'm sorry. Viv having babies?"

"She's good with kids. Just like you."

"Yeah. Maybe if she adopts."

Holly smiled. "Medical advances have come a long way, you doofus."

Leaning back a little, Gail covered Holly's hands with her own. "I was thinking she'd get annoyed being pregnant."

"Maybe she'll find someone who won't mind."

That gave Gail pause. "I like Jamie. She's good people." Gail shifted and Holly let her go. The blonde was a little antsy. "Are you ever jealous of me being friends with Nick?"

Snorting, Holly shook her head. "Of _Nick_? Never. Not even once." Gail arched her eyebrows. "Okay, fine. Maybe once, really really early on. You treat him like your personal plaything."

"He is." Gail sauntered into the kitchen and Holly smiled, watching her wife's butt. "Stop staring at my ass, Stewart. Serious question. Is our house too big?"

"Your ass is sweet, Peck." But she did put serious thought into the question. "It may be," Holly admitted. "I kind of miss the townhouse right now, but I really love that yard." The yard had been a selling point. "If we _do_ get grandkids, they'll love that."

"They'll have the cottage."

Holly walked into the kitchen and watched Gail put away food. "You grew up in the 'burbs with a yard and a big house," Holly said slowly. "We had an apartment. Going to my grandparents to play in the yard, or my aunt's was a huge treat. But I liked my grandparents' best because I could take the bus by myself."

After a moment, Gail eyed her. "You're really into this grandkid thing, Holly. They haven't even been going out six months."

"My biological clock is a bit ahead of yours," Holly pointed out, primly. But the truth was, the older Vivian got, the more she wondered about that. Would she, one day, be a grandparent? Like marriage and children, it wasn't the world Holly had seen for herself at thirty. "Am I turning into my mother?"

"You didn't ask if Jamie was satisfying our daughter sexually, so no."

Holly grinned. "I think Vivian warned her about that."

Gail smirked back. "And I'm pretty sure the answer is yes."

"I hope so. She seems happy. She has a monster hickey." Holly picked up a bag of cheesepuffs and put them in the cupboard. "If. If the house is too big, what's your proposal?"

There was a lengthy silence from her wife. Holly smiled and put away the groceries with her, quietly, until Gail finally spoke. "When you retire... A house. Smaller. Maybe two bedrooms and a den. Big ass yard."

"When I retire." Holly smiled more. "What about you?"

"Me too," said Gail so softly, Holly barely heard it. "Maybe?"

Holly put the last can away and turned to Gail. She wasn't at all unclear on why Gail was quiet and scared. This was the first time Gail had started to voice a future that wasn't dying in blue. Even SIU was much the same. But this... Yeah. Just like Holly had never seen herself a married parent, Gail had never seen herself as anything but a police officer.

Leaning against the counter, Gail chewed her lip. Nervous, skittish, and half expecting the world to beat her down. That was her wife. Holly stepped towards Gail, cupping her face in one hand. The pale, Peck skin stood out against Holly's darker color. It always did. It always looked so perfect. Holly kept delivering on her smile, tipping her head in and kissing Gail softly, a brush of lips.

"Do I get to be with you?" Holly asked as quietly as Gail had.

"Uh, duh." Scrunching her face up, Gail eyed Holly with rapidly returning humor.

"Then yes."

Gail's expression softened. The slow smile that warmed Holly's heart, that touched her soul, spread across Gail's pale face. "Okay." Gail leaned in and kissed Holly, slowly. Slowly. Softly. Warmly.

It made the pit of Holly's stomach tingle, even now. She grinned when Gail leaned away. "Good." Holly sighed and wrapped her arms around Gail's shoulders. "Because as annoying of a jerk as you are, Gail, you're my jerk, and I absolutely adore you."

After a moment, Gail's arms slid around Holly's waist and squeezed her close. "I told Oliver you wouldn't want to be with a jerk."

"When was that?" Holly rested her weight against Gail, savoring just feeling her there.

"Very early." She sighed. Then Gail kissed Holly's temple. "Grandparents. If that ever happens, it'll be a trip. I wonder what we'll be to her in another twenty years?" Clearly Gail was thinking about her own complicated relationship with her mother.

Suddenly Holly remembered a wedding from twenty years in the other direction. Oliver's wedding. "Gail, what did the white haired lady at Oliver and Celery's wedding say? About how we're irreplaceable."

Gail huffed. "Oh. I remember. She was telling us how we're always a part of the bride and groom's life."

"Can you recite it?"

Silence. And then. "You have shared in their best and their worst days, and you are an irreplaceable part of their yesterdays, their today, and all of their tomorrows. So as you can see, although many of you don't live right around the corner, you are never far from their hearts."

Holly beamed. "That's what we'll be."

A soft puff of breath, no more than a tiny exhalation that barely stirred Holly's hair, was Gail's silent reply. It said everything.

* * *

There was someone else in the bed. Vivian jerked awake. The sun was up. She was in her own room. And someone was behind her.

"Hey. It's just me."

The voice was familiar. Vivian blinked and pushed the heaviness of sleep away. "Jamie?"

"Yeah."

Vivian frowned and looked over her shoulder. Her girlfriend was on top of the covers, reading from her tablet. "Oh. What time..."

"A little after two." Jamie looked a little doubtful. "You do remember inviting me over, right?"

And just like that, Vivian did remember. After breakfast, she'd called Jamie to apologize about the night before. They'd chatted a little and Vivian asked if Jamie wanted to come over and hang out. There was a Netflix and chill joke, but really what happened was they watched at least one episode of a sci-fi show Holly swore by on Vivian's laptop and then... She flopped onto her back. "Okay, in my defense, I was up all night."

Jamie smiled and rolled onto her side, brushing Vivian's hair away from her face. "Yeah, Gail explained this hunt thing. Did you do a good job?"

Closing her eyes, Vivian nodded. "Stole a drug dealer's car. Fully loaded."

"Bad ass." Soft fingers circled her black eye and Jamie sighed. "Not a fan of this."

"Accident." She yawned. "Do I have to get up?"

"No." Jamie settled along side her. "I should go before dinner though."

That sucked. "Why? You aren't on shift for another two days."

"Hm. As much as spending all my time holed up with my hot girlfriend is appealing, I have things to do." Jamie was smiling. Vivian didn't even have to look, but she knew it. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Birthday for a friend."

"Oh, right. Sophie? Olivia's sister?"

Vivian's eyes snapped opened and she looked up at Jamie in surprise. "You went to the Penny last night..."

Jamie nodded. "Olivia showed up. She's smart. Funny. Kind of sassy. Your Mom, Holly, was totally freaked about it."

Her girlfriend met her ex without her around. "Am I in trouble?"

"For having a hot ex? No." Jamie toyed with some of Vivian's hair.

"Hot?" Vivian squinted.

"Yeah, you left out the part about her being gorgeous. And a doctor? Hot and smart. A bit bitchy..."

"Probably jealous," admitted Vivian.

"And yet ... you're going to see her."

"Well... It's Sophie's birthday. She's ... In another world, she might have been my sister."

The hand in her hair stopped. "What?"

So Vivian recounted the story. How Gail had found Sophie's birth mother, bleeding from a gunshot wound. And how orphaned Sophie pulled at Gail's heart and she tried to adopt her. But the story was so convoluted, so tied in with the drama of Gail's parents and how that led to a divorce, that Vivian was sure she confused Jamie more than enlightened. "Since Mom got Sophie adopted, we're all sort of family."

Jamie sighed. "I never in my life thought I'd meet someone who made my family look normal."

"I'm not sure what that means," admitted Vivian, frowning in confusion.

After a pause, Jamie sat up and crossed her legs. "You didn't ... I thought you and your Moms talk about everything."

"Most things." Vivian looked up at Jamie, thoughtfully. "We didn't talk about Olivia because she didn't matter. I was more worried about how Gail would take Elaine being sick."

The firefighter looked somewhat confused. "I know you really care about them, but you're the kid."

"I'm a plus one." Vivian propped herself up on her elbows. "Look. Holly can't deal with hospitals. She's got ... She's got a real thing about it. She nearly died in one when I was six."

"She was sick?"

"Not... Well. It was a really, really bad case. She was in isolation for almost a month." And Jamie's face had a stunned expression, eyes wide. "Her field assistant died, in front of her, and Holly's been kind of twitchy if you get her in hospitals ever since. It was okay for months and then... Then it wasn't. And Gail and I, y'know, we get it, so we don't make her."

Jamie shook her head. "What's plus one mean?"

Ah. Vivian grinned. "Mom... Gail could explain it best, but she and Mom are each other's plus ones. They went to a wedding, as friends, and Mom invited Holly as her plus one. It stuck. They're plus ones forever." Briefly, Vivian wondered if her interchangeable use of 'Mom' for her mothers was confusing. "When Gail asked me if I wanted to be adopted, I was a plus one. So ... It's more than family for me."

Her girlfriend made a noise and hugged her knees. "Why haven't you asked?"

"About what?"

"My dad."

"Oh. Gail didn't freak out. And Elaine, who probably _did_ run a background check, and I am sorry about that, didn't tell Holly to make us break up. So I figure... When you're ready. Or not."

"Quid pro quo, Viv," replied Jamie. And she sighed. "I thought about telling you before." Then she paused. "I told them, my folks, that I was seeing a cop."

How odd must that have been. "What'd they say?"

"Dad said he trusted me. Is he gonna flip when I mention Peck?"

"Uh. Possibly. I don't know. I really haven't asked Mom about the case."

Her girlfriend narrowed her eyes. "Are you afraid to know, or what?"

Vivian smiled. "Or what. It felt invasive." Normally when she was quiet, Jamie would babble. It was as if the quiet made her desperate to fill the void with noise.

This time, it felt like the quiet was comforting Jamie.

Finally Jamie spoke. "My dad nearly killed his step-dad. Like six months in the hospital. He, Dad, was a professional boxer and beat the shit out of him. Twice."

Both of Vivian's eyebrows lifted. "Shit, I thought I'd be the only one with a weird story."

Jamie snorted. "Don't be a dumbass."

Vivian smiled. "This is not the grandfather you came out to." She didn't phrase it as a question. Gail always said not to ask if the answer was known.

"No, that's my Mom's dad. We don't talk much to Dad's side of the family." Jamie rubbed her lower lip and looked at Vivian, confused. Maybe it was because Vivian was calmly reacting to the news so far.

"There was a reason," said Vivian, as she knew there had to be, else Jamie wouldn't be stalling.

There was. Jamie sighed. "He was beating my grandmother."

Exhaling, Vivian leaned back. "Yeah, I can't really argue that. But why'd that land him in jail? A decent lawyer should have gotten him off. Lose his license, sure, but..."

"Public defender. And grandma testified against him."

That surprised Vivian. "Well. Shit." She frowned deeply.

In her best game show voice, Jamie added, "But wait, there's more." This time Vivian just waited. "When he got home after the fight, all beat up, Mom yelled at him and he hit her. Once." Vivian's eyes widened. "And then Mom broke his knee."

A heartbeat passed and then Vivian started laughing. She covered her face and her shoulders shook. "Oh my god. I'm sorry, but it's just ... It's absurd. And she stayed with him?"

Jamie sighed and looked like she was trying not to smile. "Yeah, she found out she was pregnant at the trial. Dad pled guilty for a short sentence, but he did twenty months supervised." Taking a breath, Jamie went on. "When he got out, apparently his step-dad and mom tried to come see me and they got into another fight. Landed him eight months in Millburne medium security."

After a moment, Vivian sighed. "We are two sides of a dodecahedron," she muttered.

"Did your — birth parents? Ever hit you?"

"Not that I remember, no."

Gnawing her thumbnail, Jamie lapsed into silence for a moment. "Third time I was five."

Third? Vivian sat up and carefully took Jamie's hand, trying to stop her from gnawing. "How long was he gone for?"

"He wasn't. Dad got his ass kicked and Mom broke a flower vase over Rafio's head. When the cops came, Dad said he did it, so Mom wouldn't get in trouble." Jamie squeezed Vivian's hand. "Didn't work, Mom got off 'cause no one pressed charges but Dad got dragged in on a BS traffic violation by the same cops a couple days later. I guess Gail's dad was involved?"

"Sounds like. We didn't talk about Bill much. He kinda disowned Gail after she came out."

"Asshole."

"He also blackmailed Elaine into fucking up Gail's transfer, otherwise he wouldn't sign the divorce papers. Bill was pretty much a grade A asswipe."

Jamie made a face. "You're— you're like genetically and environmentally predisposed to not trust men."

Vivian sighed and leaned against Jamie. "Probably for the best that I'm a raging lesbian." Her girlfriend giggled and freed her hand to drape an arm around Vivian's shoulders. "I ... I don't want to ask this. But. Your parents aren't... They're not like aggressive or anything, right?"

The arm around her tightened. "No. They're kinda intense sometimes."

"Hm. So's Gail."

With a huff of acceptance, Jamie leaned her head so it rested against Vivian's. It was comforting and familiar. Hadn't she seen her parents do it a million times? Vivian exhaled and closed her eyes. Maybe this was what was missing in her other relationships. There was never this sort of calm. This place where they didn't have sex, but just relaxed with each other and talked. In part that was Vivian's 'fault.' She couldn't talk about things sometimes. She also wasn't really relaxing, even though it was comforting.

Jamie's fingers absently toyed with the ends of Vivian's hair. "I thought you had this kinda perfect family. But I totally get why you have trouble talking about yourself. Everything is years and layers of complex drama."

With a muffled yawn, Vivian's eyes drifted closed. "I'm really lucky," she said softly. Jamie made a noise of agreement. "I forgot."

"You forgot how awesome your parents are?" Jamie sounded confused.

"I forgot how my birth father died. For a long time." The hand in her hair paused. "I forgot he shot himself in front of me until that guy blew his brains out last year. In front of me."

"Jesus, Viv..."

"It was a rifle, not a shotgun." That distinction had to be made for some reason. "The guy last year had one of those rifle gauged handguns, which are fucking psychotic."

It was silent. Vivian opened her eyes and looked up to see Jamie studying her face. "Is ... Is my dad going to be a problem?"

After a moment, Vivian shook her head. "I don't think so. Not unless you moved out because he still hits your mom, cause..."

"Down girl," muttered Jamie. "No. He's a total pacifist now." And she explained how her father had never again raised his hand to anyone, not even when the guy came back and nearly beat him unconscious. It was isolated, and there was a restraining order on her grandparents after that.

"I don't get going back," admitted Vivian. "Your mom. I mean, after Moms bailed me out for hitting back, I'd be gone."

"I don't really either. But... I moved out because Ruby needed to move out." Jamie looked like didn't really want to explain all of that. Probably since it wasn't her story to begin with.

And that, Vivian understood. She nodded. "We're not too different."

Jamie smiled. "You're the first person who didn't make me feel weird. About my folks."

"Is that good or bad?"

Jamie laughed a little. "So. How long will you be at the birthday party?"

A topic change was fine by Vivian. "S'lunch. So maybe noon to four?" She hesitated. "Is it okay? Olivia will be there."

"Planning to make out with her?"

Vivian made a face. "Ew. No. Ship has long since sailed." But... She sighed. "I miss having her as my friend."

Jamie exhaled, understanding. "So. This is my choice?"

"No. It's mine. I just want to know if it bothers you and how much. And... Figure it out from there."

Her girlfriend made an unhappy noise. "I don't want this to be on my shoulders." She grumbled under her breath. "I trust you. I don't trust her."

Vivian nodded a little. "I don't either, but she's not gonna try to kiss me in front of her parents. Besides, she's engaged to some dude."

"Ouch..." Jamie huffed. "I mind, but I don't think I should go. It's a family thing. Unless other girlfriends are going." Vivian shook her head. "There you are. Go, and maybe we can have dinner?"

Smiling, Vivian closed her eyes. "Yeah. I like this plan." She struggled to let her body relax and, as Jamie started to play with her hair again, Vivian drifted off.

* * *

There were four models of the arson devices on the table along side a box of parts. Standing beside the table were two lab technicians, two detectives, an ETF agent, and a rookie.

And they all fucking looked like kids at a candy store.

Holly sighed.

"Wayne, make it good."

The man smiled and gestured to Trujillo. "We have a supply chain," said the detective, grinning ear to ear. And she nodded at Vivian.

"Most of the chop shops who work on Volvos use the same dumping ground for the spare parts. The innocuous stuff everyone has." And she, in turn, smiled at Ananda.

Grinning ear to ear, Ananda gestured at the table. "That's been our problem. How do you find specificity in parts that are common?"

Everyone looked at Holly who sighed again. "You find something that isn't common."

"Oil," said Wayne, far too cheerful. "And tool marks. That's normally what we look for."

Holly pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are aware I can kick you all out."

Coughing, Ananda hustled to a computer and tapped up charts which sprung to life on the wall. "It's the trace evidence. The samples Constable Peck brought in are the exact same kind of filter, but the combination of oil, dirt, and curry matched not a specific shop, but the supplier."

"Who I got the name for," said Vivian, chiming in. "Morley Mechanics. They collect the scrap, clean it up, and redistribute."

"But their trace is unique." Wayne touched the wall. "Rather, their trace is found in every arson. The unique trace from the chop shops, on the other hand, are not. Which means the arsonist is getting his supplies from the source."

Holly blinked. "His?"

"Peter Hastings." Trujillo held up her tablet to show the face. "College student at UoT. Missing for five months, though. Grew up with Gary Cortez, our supplier of the more common parts of an arson." Holly blinked again. She knew that name. "Yeah, that Gary Cortez. Hastings and Cortez were friends with Ally Chapman. Who works for Morely."

The connections were bewildering and simple. "Oh. Interesting. But he's missing. And how did you get to him anyway?"

"Blood. That technique you came up with." Wayne grinned so hard, Holly was sure his face would split. "The one about getting blood from a charred body?"

Technically it had been Holly, four Americans, and a brilliant fellow from China who had come up with the process. And it didn't always work. But when the blood was found with oil, it tended to work better. Like motor oil. "He cut his hands making the ... The ..."

"Incendiary device." Sue nodded. "Hella impressed your lab even found the traces. On two!"

"Enough for a warrant," said Kelly.

Holly shook her head. "Does it help with your victims any?"

"It does." Trujillo checked her tablet. "Peck's theory about bullying was the common thread. We're not sure why, but Hastings was a target. Everyone was somehow connected. A dad who encouraged his son to beat up the weaker kid. A classmate who pushed him through a plate glass window. Charges were never filed. Hastings' father actually said, and this is a quote, 'Kids will be kids.' Of course," she paused and looked up. "His parents divorced after that. Hastings stayed with his mother. Father paid for school. Though we don't know why he's missing."

"Well that's on to you, Trujillo." said Kelly. "I'm happy to sign off on the evidence." The two detectives nodded at each other.

Ananda tapped the keyboard and returned the wall to its boring state of normalcy. "We're still processing the other evidence," said the woman. "No mud found only on the east bank of a river, sadly."

Pausing in her note taking, Vivian coughed a laugh. "Next you'll tell me isn't a tv show, Dr. Ames," she said to Ananda. Even though most of the lab would happily let Vivian call them by name, she called every one of them, even Rodney and Wanda, by their last name. That didn't stop the Peck from being a tease, but she was a respectful one.

"Thank you, Constable," said Holly, pressing her lips together to stifle a smile. "Do you need Dr. Ury to reexamine the bodies? For evidence?"

"Not yet," said Trujillo. "We know enough about them. Won't find much off them anyway, except maybe the one who had the Molotov Cocktail flung at him." The detective sighed. "Well. Come on, Peck. Let's go hunt down Hastings. Thanks, Ananda. Dr. Davies. Dr. Stewart."

The two detectives walked out with Sue, Vivian tagging along behind like a puppy.

And Wayne turned to Ananda, smirking. "Anaaaannnnnnda."

The younger tech blushed. "Shut up."

Holly raised her eyebrows. "Do I want to ask?"

"She has a crush on Detective Trujillo." Wayne smirked and went to his workstation.

"You're an ass, Wayne. I'm gonna tell your wife you're an ass."

"She already knows," said Wayne. "She married me because I'm an ass."

"Not to interrupt your budding bromance," said Holly slowly. "Did you call me down to let my kid show off or do I need to know something else?"

Ananda coughed. "We're splitting the duties."

"With your permission," Wayne said quickly. "But you're right. I'm overworking. And Ananda's good. She's great. So we can share the load. I'll do the reviews and she'll be my backup. And I know I'm supposed to ask first, especially since money's involved-"

"Wayne. Stop." Holly smiled. "Fill in the forms for a promotion. If you don't know what ones they are, please ask Ruth. I want it to include a description of how, exactly, you're splitting the workload. Make it real. I'll review it. I may kick it back if I don't like it, because Ananda hasn't done managerial work before. You may get to take some training classes. Both of you. But. I like this so far."

They both exhaled, relieved. "Thank you," Wayne said, sincerely.

"Don't thank me yet," said Holly. "I'll be expecting the lab to benefit from this too." She smiled and waved a hand. "Work on the presentation skills, Ananda. And write up how you extracted the DNA from, I presume, air filters? That's the stuff we submit to medical journals."

As she walked out, she heard Ananda ask Wayne if that meant Holly wanted her to be published. Holly grinned. The future of her lab was bright.

* * *

She wasn't sure which was worse, the paperwork for her job or the paperwork for her mother. Gail rubbed her face. Lunch should be spent flirting with her wife, or enjoying bad food with Oliver, or listening to her daughter babbling about her success in the field.

It was not meant to be spent with her wife and child going over the medical results of Elaine's recent heart attack.

"This is good," Holly said, around her mouthful of salad.

"You have appalling eating habits, Mom. Chewing with your mouth open." Vivian shook her head and peered at the tablet. "Wait, what's that?"

"That's normal for her age. Actually it's really good. Your mother's cholesterol looks worse."

Gail scowled. "I'm right here."

"And you have an appalling diet," chided Holly. "No, it's an occlusion from ... I'd call it a genetic defect, actually. Look here."

Sighing, Gail watched her wife and daughter bump shoulders as they looked at some scan or another. "Mom gets out next week. She wants to stay at her condo. All I want to know is if that's okay, Holly."

The doctor she'd married two decades before looked up. "She needs some care. A nurse. Which we can get, no problem. But... She's fine. Disturbingly fine. If I ever have a bypass, I'll be lucky to be this fine. Stop."

"Its my mom," said Gail quietly.

Getting up off the couch, Vivian walked behind Gail's chair and hugged her shoulders. "Mom. I love you. You're freaking out. Elaine's fine. She's going to annoy us for another hundred years. She's immortal."

"This is not how we communicate," complained Gail.

"I know." Vivian squeezed her tight. "Okay. Mom, you're on your own with grumpy here. I gotta go to work."

Holly smiled. "We'll see you tomorrow. Is Jamie coming?"

"No." Vivian pulled her leather jacket on. "I want to talk to Liv, and I think she'll be bitchy Liv if Jamie's there. Yes, I talked to Jamie about it first. She's okay with it."

"Is she really okay, or did she just say she was okay?" Holly sounded doubtful.

"I think she's really okay. We're meeting up for dinner." Vivian paused. "When is too soon to give her a key?"

Gail blinked and looked up. "Well. Holly gave me one before we started dating..."

Her wife smirked. "You never gave me a key."

"I lived with ugly boys." She smiled though. "You really like her, huh, kid?" Her daughter flushed a little.

Holly smiled at Gail and nodded. "Give her a key, honey. Tell her you like her." Holly put her iPad down. "Do I get a goodbye hug?"

Rolling her eyes, Vivian walked up and gave Holly a hug and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Mom. Thanks. Sorry about Petulant Peck."

"I'll live." Holly did not walk Vivian to the door.

They sat in silence as the garage door opened, an engine roared to life, and the door closed. "A key. She's serious." Gail knew her voice sounded flat. She really was amused and excited for her daughter, but she felt flat. A pillow from the couch smacked her in the face. "Ow!"

The pillow removed itself, or rather Holly plucked it along with the various papers Gail had been reading. All of those were dumped onto the couch. Then Holly sat in her lap. "You're over stressing."

Immediately, Gail took a hold of Holly's waist and sighed. "Tell me something good."

Holly leaned into Gail's chest, resting her cheek against Gail's head. "Our daughter has a serious girlfriend." Gail nodded. "Oh dear. You are depressed, honey." Holly sighed and ran her fingers through Gail's short hair. "Look at me. Talk to me."

Gail obliged and looked up. She inhaled and then just dumped all the current worries. "I'm worried about Mom. I'm worried Viv's gonna get her heart stomped on. I'm worried we won't find our missing arsonist. I worry about the serial skull smasher. I worry about Andy being sergeant and Gerald still being out there. I worry if I'm too old to keep doing this."

Through her little word vomit, Holly kept stroking her hair. When she stopped talking, Holly exhaled. "I don't think you're too old."

"I'm going to be fifty-one in a month and a half."

"I know."

"Mom had her first heart attack—"

"Much later."

Gail nodded. "Dad didn't." Her voice was small. After Bill's death, years after, they'd finally uncovered all his documents and notes. Gail remembered the day she'd found the divorce settlement, and in Bill's notes were papers that outlined his plan to ruin her adoption of Sophie. They'd expected that. They had not expected his own medical notes to include that he'd known about his heart problem for years and chosen to do nothing. Or that he'd never made a will.

Holly's hand paused. "Honey. Your father was a fucking asshole."

"And he had four heart attacks. Four. The first one, he was still married to Mom and never told her."

Her wife leaned away. "Would you hide a heart attack from me?"

"What!? No!"

"Good." Holly cupped Gail's face in her warm, soft hands. As she brushed her thumbs over Gail's cheeks, Gail felt the indentation on Holly's thumbs. Years of scalpels. "You take care of yourself and you will live a very long time with me." Holly kissed her forehead. "And even if you have to be a grumpy, fat, stay at home, retired cop, I will still love you."

Gail laughed softly. "Fat?"

"I've seen how you eat. I'll have to stick around and keep you honest." Holly squeezed Gail's face lightly and leaned back, resting against Gail's shoulder.

"Good luck." Gail sighed. "Mom's the last of her generation, Holly."

Her wife blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah." Elaine shouldn't have been, but a few older Pecks had mysteriously died 'in their sleep' in the last five years. Two were confirmed suicides. It was interesting to see what happened to them as their old support structure collapsed under its own weight. Interesting as in morbid and terrifying.

Best not to bring up the Pecks who'd eaten bullets.

Holly sighed and shook her head. "You know. She's not the last. She's the first."

"What?"

"Your mother said no. She changed the path for all the Pecks after her. She walked away from everything she was and let you do it too." Holly looked thoughtful. "Everything you built was on her sacrifice. It's kind of the epitome of motherhood."

Gail blinked a few times. It was true, her mother had given up a lot for her. All her life really, Elaine had given to her. "What does that mean?"

"It means... It means she's your mom. Of course you're scared to lose her. God, I'm going to be a mess when my parents die." Holly sighed. "Viv when we die. It's ... I don't know. You're the one who lost a parent."

"I didn't lose him. He died and we lied about who he was," Gail bit out. But she knew Holly's point. They'd both lost their grandparents. Losing a parent was something only Gail had done, and she knew on a visceral level how different it felt. Her world changed. "Steve retiring was harder than Bill dying."

Holly sighed again and nodded. They lapsed into silence and Gail took Holly's hand, rubbing her thumb over the webbing between Holly's thumb and forefinger. "Well." Holly spoke softly. "Harder or not, we can handle it one step at a time."

And the next step was getting Elaine home. And Sophie's birthday. And on and on.

"One step at a time," agreed Gail.

* * *

It was Sophie's birthday party. She was at the party alone, by choice. A choice her girlfriend agreed with, but still. No plus ones. She did wonder if Jamie was really okay with it... It was hard to tell. Vivian sighed and pulled her helmet off, locking it to the bike before walking around to the back where the grill was going. It was too cold for the pool, but that didn't stop everyone from congregating there.

"Holy crap, Viv. Is that you?"

Vivian smiled at Oliver's youngest daughter, Winnie. "Hey, Win. You came down from the frozen north?"

"Sophie's kinda my BFF." Winnie grinned. "Hey, look who showed up?"

Sophie looked over and smiled brightly, trotting over. "Vivian! Wow, nice shiner." Sophie hugged her hello. "When the hell did you get so tall anyway?"

"Hi, Soph." Vivian grinned and returned the hug. She'd grown up with the girl as a babysitter and sometimes confidant. Sophie had even woken up the night of the failed sleepover and told Vivian it was okay. She was family. And that meant she was safe to tease. "Mom talked me out of heels."

The five-and-a-half-foot lawyer stuck her tongue out. "It's not that kind of party, and I bet you've never even owned heels."

Vivian held out her gift. "You'd guess wrong, as it happens. I even had a couple dresses."

"The fact that you said 'a couple' tells me you haven't changed, Viv." Sophie teased her like she always had. "Come on in, Dad's grilling with your mom."

"Oh good. I moved out and I have to eat my own cooking."

"Which is like, Gail levels of awesome."

They stepped out to the backyard where Leo and Winnie were sitting with their feet in the pool. It was like a flashback. The adults were crowded around the grill, drinking and laughing. The 'kids' were clustered by the pool. And instead of Liv and Viv being shunted off to the side for being 'too young,' the small gap in their ages was negligible enough to be a non-issue now.

"Cousin!" Leo bounded over to give Vivian a hug and a beer. "How're you liking my old pad?"

"It smells better," she teased, taking the drink. Winnie and Sophie chortled, telling Leo they knew it was him.

"Is that your motorcycle?" Winnie peeked over the fence.

Vivian nodded. "It is. I bought it off Nick when the Crapmobile died."

"I loved that car," said Sophie wistfully.

Leo scoffed. "No you didn't. You just loved that Liv stopped asking you for rides all the time."

"Potato, tomato." Sophie winked. "Are you living there alone?"

"No, Christian's in your old room." When Winnie looked blank, Vivian explained, "Chris Diaz's not-son?"

"Oh wow. I barely remember Chris…" Winnie glanced over at their parents. "Wasn't he in Aunt Gail's class?"

Vivian nodded. "He was. Christian's mom's kinda batshit."

"He'll fit right in." Leo nodded.

Conversation quickly moved on to discussions about work and life. The older trio were happy to hear about the sole police officer of their generation. None of Oliver's girls had gone into policing. He had an artist, a politician, and a scientist. Jerry would probably be another scientist. Leo was a computer genius, and Sophie a lawyer. Little Chris Epstein... Well. Maybe.

Vivian enjoyed talking with them, though. They were her friends too, and the age differences that had once made them her mentors now let them be confidants. She could talk to them, a little, about how it was daunting to be a Peck at Fifteen. They shared her fears of the unknown. Twenty-four and thirty were much closer than six and twelve, after all.

But as the day moved on, Vivian sought out the girl her own age. Olivia stayed by her mother's side, probably soaking in the maternal fussing she missed while being out in California. And Vivian waited, patiently, until Noelle went to help Frank and Gail at the grill. Then she walked around the winterized pool, collected a burger from her mother, and sat down.

"So." Olivia looked up, a little nervously as Vivian sat beside her. "No firefighter?"

"Not today. This is kinda a family party." Looking around at the small gathering, which really was mostly immediate family and those who had helped Sophie get adopted, it was demonstrably true. "She knows I'm here, and that I wanted to talk to you."

Olivia arched her eyebrows, looking just like her mother. "Me?"

"Yeah, this idiot I used to be good friends with, and is totally avoiding me and being kind of bitchy to my girlfriend."

Her childhood friend had the grace to wince. " _She_ tell you that?" Her tone was pretty bitter though.

"Her name is Jamie, Liv. And no, Moms told me that."

Olivia sighed. "I… You know I didn't think I'd be pissed off you were dating someone."

Snorting, Vivian put her burger together. "You know I've gone out with people since we broke up."

"Yeah, but she feels … serious."

"Uh, says the girl who has a fiancé?" Even though they had barely sat down to talk in years, Vivian could see the look on Olivia's face. They'd broken up. "Oh. What happened?"

"Stuff," muttered Liv. "Can.. can you not…" She waved at their parents.

Vivian nodded. "Sure."

They sat in silence for a moment. "Does that sound like sour grapes? Like I'm pissed because I'm … not?"

"A little," said Vivian. When the silence came back, she asked, "Have you seen Matty?"

"No. He's back?" At Vivian's nod, Olivia sighed. "You think if we'd stuck it out, you and me and him would be at your place instead of you and Christian?"

After a moment of thought, Vivian shook her head. "No. Matty's actually gay, which ruins the Jack Tripper thing," she explained, as deadpan as possible.

There was a pause before Olivia laughed. "Oh my god, I forgot how good you were at that super-serious." She slapped Vivian's shoulder. "Jerk."

"You're being way to serious about all this, Liv."

Liv sighed. "Why are you so calm? I mean… you were always quiet, but you're _calm_ now. Like a bomb could go off and you'd just … You'd figure out what to do next and go on."

She looked over at her mothers and smiled. "Well. The funny thing about being a Peck is they teach you how to survive and move on."

Her friend made a face. "Survive? You make it sound like we were some horrible disaster."

"Weren't we? God, we really just … we stopped talking to each other, Liv, and I really could have used you last year." Vivian sighed. "I know I'm shitty about talking about myself."

"Yeah, what's fire-girl think about that?"

"She tells me off." Grinning, Vivian added, "I think you'd like her."

Olivia made a noise Vivian remembered was her friend at her most self-annoyed. "Don't push your luck."

"Alright."

"How come you get to be the better person in this? That's so unfair." She huffed. "You know what's _really_ stupid? I actually am, totally, entirely, over you like that."

Vivian lifted her drink. "Ditto."

They touched plastic cups. "Can this … can we be friends?"

"Well. Mom's still friends with Nick." With a smirk, Vivian leaned in. "Did you know they were engaged?"

Olivia startled. "What!?" She leaned back and shouted over at Gail. "Aunt Gail! You were not engaged to Uncle Nick!"

Without turning a hair, Gail replied, "He left me at the altar. That asshole."

Apparently none of the other kids had known, and Sophie broke into laughter. "Oh my god, why don't we know this?"

"I don't advertise it," said Gail, her voice a low growl. "Worst Peck dinner ever."

Even Holly was laughing and teasing her though. Which made everything feel like friends and family again.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivian and Olivia are friends again, or at least working on it. And yes, Jamie is okay with that. Mostly. You generally don't like the girl who broke your girl's heart.


	20. 02.10 The Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gail is 51. For her birthday, an undercover op with her daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the identify of the serial arsonist comes to light. But will it be too late?

A name, a face, a motive, and a missing person.

Gail studied the notes from John and Lucinda. "You're solid on this?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Lucinda Trujillo. "It matches up. Now we know why Peter Hastings skipped town."

With a sigh, Gail nodded. She'd seen the news as well and knew why. "Did you find out why they let him go in the first place and didn't bother to escalate?"

"You won't like it." The calm voice of John bothered her in this moment.

"I rarely do, John." Gail had a theory too, and she didn't like it.

"It's what you're thinking. UoT asked the family not to press charges, saying it would tarnish their reputation. Dead gay basketball star, murdered by his lover."

Awesome. Gail's lips curled into a snarl. "Fucking awesome. You have a plan?"

"I do."

Flicking her glance to her sergeant, Gail caught his slight nod. John approved of this plan. "Okay. What do you need?"

"To flush him out I'd like to try and flip his friend, Ally Chapman, and drop a couple people undercover there. Catch him when he comes in for parts."

"What if she's delivering?"

"Then we follow her," said Trujillo firmly.

"Okay. So two undercover, two in a van for surveillance, and two back here with John? I'm assuming you want to be in the field?" When Trujillo blushed, Gail smirked. It would be her first big case. "All that's above board, John could sign off ..." Gail trailed off.

Again, John nodded. "That's why. Peck's earned it. And she can use the cover she accidentally invented last month." He paused. "I want to send her in with Nick though."

Gail frowned. "Fat chance history would repeat that one," she muttered. Would she ever forget how Nick had fallen for Andy? No. Unlikely. "Okay. Grab Volk for the van. She wants to go for Detective. Fuller or Hanford would be better for the backup if you're set on using rookies."

"I was thinking Fuller and Aronson for night surveillance. They're steady."

They were still rookies. But at their age, at their level in career, Gail had been doing sting ops. She sighed. At night would be when the action was expected, which was dangerous, but it was also when more steady hands would be on deck to direct. In a weird way, it was safer. "Alright. Work it up. John, you can approve it."

As Trujillo nodded and bounced out, John lingered by the door. "It was her idea."

"Doesn't matter." Gail opened her laptop. "She's a cop. Her destiny is hers, not mine."

"Very mature. You finally turning your age?"

"Bite me, John," said Gail. She glanced up. "Trujillo does good work with the rookies. Think she should take over as our liaison?"

"Yes, and you're changing the subject."

"John... " Gail pinched the bridge of her nose. "As an Inspector, the kids are good choices here. As a mother, it's not something I'm going to talk about at work," she added. "And what am I supposed to say about the school managing to convince at least three Divisions that the lezbo in Major Crimes shouldn't be handling the biggest gay related case in her jurisdiction? No matter what I do here, I'm fucked."

John sighed. "I'm not sure it's like that. But I want to talk to the Mayor-"

"You want to jump over their heads? Really?"

"Seabourn first. Then the Super. Then the Mayor. Because they're the cause of more deaths." John was stubborn and firm. It was rare that was the case.

Gail stifled a sigh. "I'll tell Seabourn and you tell Dov. But you get why I can't screw around with this."

Her long time friend and partner grunted. "Yeah, they're dicks. The shoot still on for next Saturday?"

Thank god for a subject change. "Yes." She tapped at the keys. "Mom's coming to score, but not shoot. I'll see you there." John still wasn't leaving. She glanced at him over the top of her glasses. Her friend had a strangeness to his stance. "Are you asking Janet to marry you?"

John spluttered. "Goddamn it! How do you do that!?"

Gail grinned and looked up. "I'm awesome. And she's going to say yes. When are you asking her?"

"Sunday. We're having dinner at that French place you told me about."

"Please tell me you made reservations."

John rolled his eyes. "Two months ago." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a box. "It's my Mom's. I had it resized."

Sentimentality was one thing Gail didn't have, but she understood it. Gail popped the box open and eyed it with the discernment born of the Armstrong lineage. "Nice. Good cut, clear crystal." She turned on her desk lamp and rotated the ring. "The setting is a little heavy. 1900s style, just after the turn of the century. I'd rather a princess cut, but the halo here is nice. And it's not a yellow diamond, thank god. The edging are replacement stones, though." She squinted and gave up, putting on her glasses. "Where'd you get those?"

"You know, once in a while you remind me you're a font of peculiar knowledge, Peck. Those I bought. Your mother helped me out."

"Oh good. Someone should keep her busy." Gail put the ring back in the box and handed it back. "Don't you fucking dare put it in food. Ask her after dinner, when it's just you, not in the restaurant where there's pressure. And shave. Because you looked terrible with the beard."

With a snappy salute, John smiled. "Solid advice. Thanks."

Gail shook her had as he left and went back to her work. There was no point in dwelling on the fact that someone was trying to keep a case out of her hands. It was there now and she would have to deal with the political shit eventually. In her younger days, she might have attacked and fought them, making her rage public and loud. Gail had always been good at that.

Now, fifty and wiser, she sent a memo to the Inspectors of the three divisions she covered, informing them that she was taking over the case and why. That she had assigned Trujillo, who would report directly to Simmons, who reported to her. That she expected every requested assistance to be met. And that John would be taking the situation to the Super and the Mayor.

Her sergeant had wasted no time. The moment the mails hit his queue, she saw him pick up the phone and read his lips as he greeted the Superintendent. Probably Dov, actually, who was the Super's sergeant, and likely to be promoted any day now.

By lunch, she had a call from the Mayor's office. They now knew the story and wanted Gail to know they had her back. Then again, they had to. She'd been in office longer than they had.

It wasn't surprising to her that the school had tried to cover things up. The more the world changed, the more it stayed the same. It stung that, even now, people were still ignorant, homophobic, and plain stupid about the whole thing. A kid died. A kid died because he was gay. And his death inspired more killing.

All her politicking done, Gail got back to work. She actually had a case for a change. Sadly it was boring. On the plus side, it took up rest of her day, concluding with an interrogation and arrest before five PM. Like a fucking boss. Gail grinned at the one good part of her day and had even better luck when she spotted her daughter on the phone in the hallway. Good timing.

"Hey, Viv. Wednesday."

Her daughter paused with the phone held up. "Um. Hang on a sec?" She tapped the phone and looked pleadingly at Gail. "Mom. Our schedules have been opposite since last month," whinged Vivian. Oh. Her daughter was trying to schedule a date with her girlfriend. When Jamie had come to dinner, Vivian had tripped over the designation. It had been adorable.

Years of Peck practice helped Gail school her face into subtle disappointment. "For a hook up?"

"It's not! Mom, tomorrow I'm on Trujillo's detail, she wants me to help her set up the op. You know how much time that takes up."

"And this is the excuse for blowing me off before my birthday?"

Vivian winced. "You'd rather spend it with Mom, and that's next weekend."

Gail broke and laughed. "I would. But she's going to make me go to the batting cages anyway. Shoo. We're on for next weekend, if I have to close the case myself."

"Crime will not interrupt your birthday. Promise." Vivian bounced off to a quieter corner and resumed her phone call.

It was a Vivian she didn't see often, almost never outside the house, but Gail watched her daughter smiling happily. Gail took her phone out and snapped a photo, sending it to Holly with the message that they were on their own for sportsball that night. Maybe they could just not go. While exercise like that helped Holly with her depression, it rarely helped Gail. And besides, Gail wasn't depressed like that, she was just sad and pained and angry.

_We_ _'_ _ll live._

Gail sighed. She wasn't getting out of the batting cages.

_If I tell you I hate the batting cages, can we not go?_

Her phone rang. "Is this my wife being grumpy about turning fifty-one, or a legit admission?"

"Neither. Maybe the first." Gail shrugged and walked to the parking garage. She didn't want to dump the shit on her wife yet either. "I like spending time with you. And I like how happy you are after the cages. But... Are we in a rut? We do this every week."

"You have a point." Holly made a tut noise. "Do you care if it's athletic? Stupid question, no you don't. Ahhhhh I know! There's that new super hero movie. Why don't we go see that? Or we can watch Netflix and chill." Holly paused a moment. "Well, that's athletic, though you've never minded that."

Gail eyed her phone. "You're scaring me. Why did you capitulate so fast?"

"Because you're right?"

Yeah. It was still weird. "Did you pull your back again?"

"No." Holly laughed. "Honey. If you're not enjoying something, we don't have to do it."

Opening her car door, Gail snorted. "Jesus you sound like the most reasonable person after I tell you I don't like anal."

"Okay, ew. And ..." Holly laughed. "Wait, who wanted anal? It couldn't be Nick or Chris."

"Not the point. And I'm not having that conversation on the phone. I'm confused."

Holly laughed again. "Gail."

"Nuh uh. Don't 'Gail' me. What's really going on?"

Her wife exhaled loudly on the phone. "I hate going to the batting cages every week."

Gail sat down in the driver's seat of her car and laughed. "What?"

"I do! Okay, I hate doing it every single week. I just... I love spending time with you, but God almighty, how do you go shooting every week and not get sick of it? We've been doing that for 18 years!"

Wiping tears from her face, Gail laughed more. "Oh. I love you, Holly."

"You're laughing at me."

"I'm laughing at us, Holly." Gail sighed. "Let's hang out at home and be lazy old ladies."

Holly exhaled a breath that sounded like she'd been holding it in for years. "I really like that plan," she said.

And, truth be told, so did Gail. It was a hell of a lot better than trying to figure out everything else right now.

* * *

"The Internet is a vile place," announced Trujillo to the officers in the room. And she pressed play.

Vivian frowned. She'd seen the video already. Two days before it had been all over the news, a college kid was filmed by his roommate. That was bad enough. He was filmed having sex. With a basketball star. A male basketball star. Who had subsequently died. And the kid was missing, originally a suspect for the other's murder, and now worse.

Just when she thought the world was getting a little better, that it accepted people no matter who they loved, or how they loved, they still would be attacked for what they were.

"But that's Toby Gale. He died ..." Rich paused and looked around, confused. "He died months ago. Why the hell would someone drop the vid now?"

When the other man's face came into view, Trujillo paused the video. "Peter Hastings."

This too, Vivian knew.

The boy accused of Toby Gale's death was their serial arsonist.

Toby's long term boyfriend, Peter Hastings.

Peter who had been bullied all his life and, now, was shouldering the blame for his lover's death. No small wonder he'd gone insane and started killing.

"Toby Gale committed suicide. We had Dr. Ury and Dr. Stewart check the results. An overdose of prescription anxiety meds."

"How'd they misdiagnosis a suicide?" Rich's question was honest, though it rankled Vivian. She always felt that digs on the lab were a bit personal.

Trujillo shook her head. "It's complicated. The original case suggested murder, and Hastings was seen leaving Gale's dorm in the middle of the night. Hastings was prescribed the same medicine found in Gale's stomach. The assumption was coerced suicide, as there was no note. As it happens, Gale's roommate was on the same medication, but a different generic. After Gale's death, he had a psychotic episode and everyone thought it was related to finding his roommate dead."

Totally understandable, in Vivian's mind.

"But it wasn't?" Jenny looked astounded. "And how is this related to the arsons ma'am?"

Nick coughed and the rookies fell silent. "The lab found out someone swapped his meds," he offered.

This time John Simmons nodded, lurking beside the podium. "A review of the blood drawn when the roommate broke showed _he_ was on Hastings' medication, a different off-brand but the same basic script, and Gale had OD'd on the roommate's."

"But—" Christian was confused.

"The school covered it up," said Vivian softly. "A gay basketball star committed suicide. If they publicized a murder by his lover, they'd have to explain why. So they suppressed the case and didn't escalate." It made her see red.

It apparently left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. The murmuring in the room built up and Trujillo and John let it go. Vivian caught John's eyes and his subtle widening of the eyes. That was the other part. Because Vivian knew her mother had not known of this angle of the case until shortly before Vivian herself learned about it. Which meant the cover up went pretty damn high. Which meant someone _intentionally_ kept the out lesbian Inspector Peck out of the loop.

No matter how you looked at it, it was bad. And on a personal level, Vivian felt guilty for ditching her mothers on batting cages night. Jamie would remind her than she was the kid, not a parent, no doubt, had Vivian mentioned that. The problem wasn't that Vivian felt like a parent or a child but that she was family. And family, hers at least, stuck together and supported each other when they were needed.

Sometimes Gail acted like the only people she could rely on were Holly and possibly Vivian. Other times she seemed to remember that she had a support structure of friends and family. Elaine mentioned it was a Peck thing. That they'd gone out of their way to teach their children that no one would have their backs. When Vivian, maybe ten or twelve at the time, replied that she already knew that, Elaine looked pained.

Everyone carried damage. It was just one of those constants in life. Everyone was screwed up.

"Actually," said John, looking up from his phone. "It's worse than that." He stood up and walked to the door, closing it. "This is privileged information. I have permission from the Crowne's office to tell you since you lot are working the case."

Without a signal or cue that Vivian could see, Trujillo nodded and pointed at Vivian and Nick. "Collins and Peck will be undercover. You're both former minor lackeys for Anton Hill. Collins is a wheel man, Peck's a minor grifter with a penchant for automotives."

Vivian wasn't super happy that she was going to be using the contacts she'd cultivated on the scavenger hunt, but she was a cop. This was her world. She had to be okay with turning on the people who backed her, when they weren't cops.

It didn't mean she had to like it.

"We have a tight timeline. Peck and Collins start tonight. Aronson, Fuller, Mayhew, and Moore, you guys will be sharing van duties with Detective Connors. She's in charge of pair ups. Volk, you filled in your application for the detective rotation. You'll be here with me and Trujillo. Consider it part of your evaluation. Questions?"

Jenny lifted her hand. "Are we in uniform in the van?"

"You are. And there's no bathroom in a surveillance van, so if you can't hold it, use a bottle."

When Jenny looked appalled, Trujillo shrugged. "This is what it is. If you want to back out, it's now or never."

"No, ma'am," mumbled Jenny.

They went over the rest of the case information, most of which didn't apply to Vivian and Nick. They knew their tasks already. They knew the case already. They'd told their girlfriends that they'd be in and out of communication (though Vivian suspected that it would be easier for Nick since Andy knew everything about the case already).

On the other hand, Jamie hadn't been too thrilled, especially when Vivian added in the fact that Gail wasn't having a birthday party. Just a target shoot and a quiet family dinner, without even her own mother. That seemed to help. It was very hard to balance her work and family and girlfriend. She assumed it had been easier for her mothers, since Gail hadn't been talking to her parents when they'd started dating, and Holly's had already moved to Vancouver.

Vivian was navigating things alright, she felt. Hoped. So far, Jamie and Matty got along. As soon as they'd met, they'd been friends, and that was a huge relief. Matty was her oldest and best friend, and having him like her girlfriend was a load off her shoulders. And the whole 'here's a key to my place' thing. Which had gone really well.

They weren't really undercover, to boot. They were casually undercover. Days they had their own 'thing' which was mostly going to be sleeping. Evenings and nights they would go out to the various chop shops and trade in cars that the detectives had selected for them over the night. The goal was to get an in, get where they could meet Ally Chapman, and trail her to find Peter Hastings.

On paper, it sure sounded awesome. Vivian was pretty sure the reality would be different.

* * *

"I wish we could take some time off for your birthday," sighed Holly. "Even just slip off to the cabin, enjoy the hot tub..."

Gail groaned softly. "Please don't remind me how much I'm missing birthday sexcapades... You know, our birthdays are the perfect distance apart." She savagely chopped an onion.

Their birthdays were roughly half the year apart. "I thought you hated how close yours is to Christmas."

"Not the point. By the way, Mom wants to do Christmas Eve here. And bring Gordo. I say we remind the Monkey to invite her girl."

"Are you inviting her to your party?"

"No. But that's because we're not having a damned party." Gail shook her head.

Holly studied her wife for a moment. First the batting cages, now this. She waited until the knife went down and Gail dumped the onions into a bowl with some flour. As the blonde started to toss the onions, Holly walked up and started to gently rub her shoulders. "What's going on, honey?"

Her wife grunted. "Salt and pepper please?"

"Hey." Holly reached around and took hold of Gail's forearms. She leaned against Gail, resting her cheek on the back of Gail's head. There was a lot of tension in Gail's entire body just then.

Gail sighed. "The Summerland Arsons are the work of Toby Gale's boyfriend, who was suspected in his murder. And I wasn't told because someone didn't want the lesbian Inspector messing around with a high profile case that the school wanted to cover up."

Oh. Holly frowned. "And now they can't keep you out of it?"

"Nope. And they're blaming me for releasing the video."

It took Holly a moment to realize what video Gail was talking about. The sex video of Toby Gale, the night before his death, involved what looked like consensual homosexual sex. She'd accidentally caught a flash of it before figuring out which tab was auto-playing the video. "Wow. Who... Who the fuck is that stupid?"

"Don't know. Seabourn's looking into it with Dov. He's lost his cool over it."

Holly let go of Gail's forearms and wrapped her arms around the other woman's waist. "How long have you been holding onto that?"

"Yesterday." Gail put the knife down.

Sighing, Holly rested her head against Gail's shoulder. "Does Viv know?"

"Yeah. Had to warn her."

Holly nodded and closed her eyes. "Been a long time since anyone cared about shit like that."

"I forgot," Gail said softly, a frustrated admission. "And now Viv's undercover."

That was a whole different level of daunting. "How's she going to sleep?"

"At home." Gail shifted and gently tugged Holly's hands to free herself. "She and Nick work at night, day time they drive off to a safe house in an apartment, then we sneak them out, debrief, they fill out paperwork, and go home to sleep. 18 hour days, though."

"Didn't you do that back when we were not-dating?"

Gail turned to look at Holly, a tired smile on her face. "Yeah. Me and Dov."

Holly kissed her cheek. "Long long time ago. Are you safe to cut the vegetables?"

"I think so." Gail picked up the knife again and put it against the second onion. "Can you distract me?"

"Sure." Holly hopped onto the counter and watched Gail cook. "I'm going to run another marathon."

"Yeah?" Gail smiled. "Is this because we're not doing the batting cages?"

Holly grinned. "While we are not the jock that our child is, running helps me like yoga helps you. Aaaand I would like to maybe come with you to that?"

"Hah, no you don't. I'm doing the hot box yoga with Rachel and Chloe."

"Ew." Holly laughed. "Okay, actually I do want to try it. With you. I like doing stuff with you."

"It's okay not to like the same things." Gail turned on the burner under a pan, pouring in some oil.

Holly nodded. "I know. You won't be doing marathons."

"Shit. Plural?" Gail made a face. "I'll cheer you on and massage you later, but I'm not running."

"Not asking." Holly smiled and watched as Gail tossed the onions into the pan. As Gail cooked, the general scowl on her face faded and the blonde eased into a more mellow state of mind. It was her zen. Her calm. It was all okay, because cooking was structured and simple.

No one had to worry about the feelings of an onion while it was cooked. Maybe a vegetarian or vegan might worry about it, but Gail didn't have to care if a duck hated her when she seared the breast to make dinner. No, this was one, small, area in the world where no one judged Gail about anything.

She was happy when cooking.

Holly tilted her head. "You could have been a cook."

"What?" Gail glanced over.

"If you weren't a cop, you could have been a cook. Maybe a private chef."

Her wife eyed her suspiciously. "What brought that on?"

"You're happy." Holly bounced her heels off the cabinets. "I was thinking, what would you be if you could have been anything."

Gail shook her head. "It's ... It's right to be a cop. I'm a good cop."

Holly nodded. "I know." She shrugged. "But you know, you don't have to be one thing."

"I'm not imaginative enough," sighed Gail. "I like what I do, and I'm good at it, so... That's what it is." She paused. "There wouldn't be less homophobic or political bullshit, no matter what I do, Holly. I draw that sort of thing in."

Well. That was true. Holly leaned back and wondered what she'd be, if not a pathologist. A scientist certainly. She loved science and math and learning. It was everything she'd really wanted to be. "We are who we were meant to be."

"You're scaring me with your philosophical bent, doc," said Gail cautiously. "What's going on in your head?"

She could have lied, or demurred, and simply not told Gail the realization she'd come to recently. But there was no point in lying about any of that.

"I was thinking about how hard it was to get used to you being shot at, and how easy it was for Viv."

Gail looked over and frowned. "This better have come from a session."

"It did. I was talking to him about how last year, when Viv was a hostage, I freaked out. But this year, when she actually got shot..." Holly shrugged. It had been the topic of discussion off and on for the last year. Dealing with the stress and emotional trauma of being a cop's wife wasn't at all the same as a cop's mother.

Her wife thought about that for a while, putting the duck into the oven. "All my life, cops were adults who know what they're getting into. Steve, even, was older than I was. But... You came into it as an adult, and suddenly you had to get used to the idea of me getting hurt."

Holly nodded. "Once I understood that, accepting Vivian as a cop was an extension of letting her be scared and run around as a kid."

The blonde made an 'ah hah' sound. "I still don't get why parents don't let their daughters try stuff out, you know."

Snorting, Holly pointed at Gail. "Who was it that was absolutely terrified when Vivian showed off her standing backflip?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "She was ten! And no one taught her that!"

"We let her be scared. And it was hard for us, but..."

"But you let go of her bicycle seat first." Gail washed her hands off. "We have about twenty minutes. Potatoes are in. Make me a salad?"

Holly hopped off the counter. "Wine?"

"Yep. I'm on it." Gail smiled. "You're happy I don't run out into danger all the time, aren't you?"

"Less than I thought I'd be," confessed Holly. "You get so frustrated by things you can't fix. I think you'd be happier sometimes if you were back out there."

It was one of the things Holly had come to expect, even now. Gail would still run into trouble, though never as headlong as others. Before, Gail was tempered by a bit of rebellion that manifested as laziness. The Gail that Holly had met was cautious but a little more realistically daring. Now she was simply prepared for what was next, and ready to meet whatever it was.

As Gail had said once before, the rules of engagement changed depending on the level of crimes. She didn't do undercover anymore, which had always been Holly's least favorite thing. She didn't talk down criminals with guns often. She played a high stakes mental game with the criminals of Canada.

And yeah, Holly thought that was pretty damn awesome.

"You let go of her bicycle," said Gail as she put the wine glasses on the kitchen table. "I probably should have done that sooner."

"I've already been through the angst of watching someone I love put the whole city before her safety," corrected Holly. "But you know what's awesome? You have me right here." Holly beamed at Gail, who grinned back.

"When you put it that way..." Gail shook her head. "Aren't I the narcissistic and immodest one?"

"Well you are the nudist," teased Holly.

* * *

Day three of her kid being undercover. It was officially weird. She'd never really been worried about someone in the field like that before. The first time she'd sent someone seriously undercover, it had been Chloe. Before that, the first time she'd run a low-cover case... Huh, it had been with Chloe as well. And Gerald, but mostly Chloe.

Since then, she'd run dozens of ops with hundreds of different people involved. She'd had her people on long term drug ops, international cases, cross continental, and had worked with everyone from Interpol right on down to the local one-sheriff town out in the boonies.

And she'd worried about all of them. Chloe under deep cover had been the hardest, especially when they'd lost track of her for a few days. Back then, her mother had been an unsurprising but unexpected comfort. Which was why Gail picked Elaine up for lunch.

"I'm perfectly capable of driving, Gail."

"You had a serious heart attack, Mom." Gail smiled and held the door open, at the ready in case Elaine needed a hand. Her mother, naturally, glared. "The doctor said no driving for another month, and so did Holly."

Elaine harrumphed. "She's the only doctor we'll listen to, and she's not even a people doctor."

"Do you want lunch or not?"

That was when Elaine looked up at the restaurant. "Schwarma? I'm not sure that's on my allowed list."

"It is if you skip the fries and falafel." Gail grinned and walked, slowly, with Elaine up the steps. "I did check first."

"It wasn't even my cholesterol," complained Elaine.

"I didn't even know you could have thin or misshaped veins," admitted Gail. But the occlusion had been caused by, essentially, a 'kink' in Elaine's veins. When Gail had been unable to sleep, after the surgery, Holly had sat up with her and read from her medical books about what had happened and why. Elaine's veins and arteries were shaped in a way that allowed plaque to build up. Part of her surgery had been to install teeny tiny tubes to straighten it out. The science was, even Gail had to admit, brilliant.

"You should get checked out."

"I plan on it. I need to embarrass my kid for years to come."

"She tolerates you more than you ever did me," said Elaine.

"Well I'm around more in a different way, Mom."

Her mother made a noise of understanding and regret. "Well there's a fuck tonne of guilt. I had wondered when my comeuppance would arrive."

Gail made sure Elaine sat down. "I'm not talking about that, Mom. Bygones. Chicken or lamb?"

"White meat, please. And don't get fries unless you're punishing me."

"Fine, but no tomatoes either." She went up to the counter to make an order, coming back with iced tea. "You never sent me or Steve undercover."

"Not my department," said Elaine. "Which sounds terrible."

"I wish it wasn't mine, so no. It doesn't." Gail shook her head. "She's under with Nick. Only nights right now. They're trying to get a lead to where our arsonist is."

"What's he after? Or she..."

"He. He was accused of killing his lover, who actually suicided, and UoT covered it up. Didn't want a big gay scandal."

Elaine made a face of disgust. "How'd you miss that — oh my."

One of the many things she loved about her mother was Elaine's lightning fast brain. Already Elaine had processed that Gail hadn't missed a damn thing. "Heads, or at least jobs, will roll."

"Are you following up on it?"

Gail shook her head. "Seabourn's hassle. And Dov's more or less." It was a relief that Gail didn't have to follow the pain in the ass politics. "Was I wrong? Turning down the job?"

Her mother knew which job without it having to be specified. She sighed and studied Gail's face. "I don't think so, no. Maybe Vivian will wander back down that road, but you'd be bored and angry in IA."

"Isn't that the truth," agreed Gail. "Steve would've been great at it."

"Steven... He lost his ambition when you leapfrogged him." Elaine looked amused. "I think he finally had to accept you were the gifted one."

"Steve's mediocre is still a billion times better than most people's awesome."

Elaine smiled a quiet, almost secret, smile. Proud. She was proud. Gail grinned back. "My point, sweetheart, is that you're not wrong to pick the right path for your happiness."

Gail tilted her head to look at her mother. "Holly's no okie."

"She's quite amazing, Gail." Then Elaine rolled up her straw cover. "I'm really proud of you. Both."

Gail felt herself blush. "It's harder when it's Viv," she said, avoiding one emotional topic for another.

"It should be. You like your friends and fellow officers, but you've sat up with Vivian when she had her appendix out."

They shared a smile. "I feel like I'm supposed to be more there for her now."

Elaine suddenly looked enlightened. "I see." She sipped her tea. "I don't have the answer you want, sweetheart."

Gail nodded. "I know, Mom." There was no simple or easy answer to her fears. "But... Talking to you about it... You're the only person I could trust." Because Elaine was the only parent of a police officer who had been in blue at the same time. Elaine was the only person who might understand the fears Gail was facing at the moment, the pains of a parent who knew, first hand, what could happen.

Quietly, Elaine nodded. She swirled her straw in the glass for a moment. "If I'd been here when you volunteered for that case, Gail... I suspect everything would have come to a head much sooner."

She blinked and stared at her mother. "What?"

"Frank let my office contact us. They were all in, ah, Harold's employ."

"Granddad was dead... Oh." Gail screwed her face up. "Well shit. When did you find out what happened?"

"When we came home, just before Detective Barber's funeral."

That had been an odd time. Gail had spent two weeks in the hospital. When Traci finally lured her out, her parents had just assumed that Gail was coming back to their house. As if she'd never been gone or nothing had happened. Gail tried to encapsulate that feeling. What if she was not aware of Vivian being undercover, kidnapped, and likely to be killed?

She shuddered.

And then she remembered. "That's when you got the second bedroom. I mean, you started using it sometimes." Her mother nodded, briefly. The claim had been that Elaine worked late and Bill snored. It had been specious at best, and they all knew it. But shortly after, Gail had moved out and stopped paying attention to the fact that, half of the time, her parents had separate bedrooms.

Her mother sighed deeply. "I did love him, you know. When he was the charmer, the sweet man he could be. But wherever I lost Elaine Armstrong along the way, he lost Bill Peck. He fell under the name. I thought Steve might, for a while."

"Oh, with the bribery?" Gail shook her head at her mother's surprise. "I know about Oliver's too, though I could never figure that out."

"It was the cover story." Elaine looked at Gail, amused and pleased. "Al needed it to convince the mob he was believable. Oh, how I miss when things were simple."

"Ugh, tell me about it." The conversation paused as the owner brought their food and told Gail his father said hello. Gail extended her well wishes to the family and smiled. "It's funny how long ago that was."

"Does Andy get the same adoration?"

"She's not really into schwarma."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Wasn't that the case where Holly heard you were shot at?"

Gail blinked. "God. Yeah, that's the one that got her a talk from Ollie."

"Probably a good talk. He's good at those." She looked at Gail for a long moment. "The hardest thing is watching the people we love do this. Knowing they have the same passion we do for something so utterly selfless and raw. Something so dangerous. But they do. They need this, just like we did. And all we can do is step back and let them." Elaine paused and then lowered her voice. "You can do one thing I never could, and Vivian will be better for it. You can be there for her if anything happens."

Oh. Gail nodded and looked down at her food. She wouldn't, even if she could, erase the guilt her mother felt. Elaine had made her own decisions and even though Gail had long since forgiven her, the consequences lingered. They left their own scars, on Gail as well, just as Vivian's past had left indelible marks on her own soul. That was what life was like.

But Elaine was right. Unlike Gail, Vivian wouldn't be alone if the terrible things happened. She would have a mother to sit by her as she healed. Friends who would bring her food. A girlfriend who would take care of her.

Parental success. Something she actually had learned from her parents, if only as the inverse to their example.

"I understand," Gail told her mother, quietly. "Thank you."

Elaine nodded and they ate their lunch. They didn't have to say much more. They knew.

* * *

Working doubles wasn't fun. Vivian toppled onto her bed after kicking her boots off, and contemplated sleeping first and then showering. Five days into her case, including spending most of a weekend working to strip a car down, had gotten them closer to their goal. What they needed now was for Ally Chapman to show up. She was scheduled for that night's drop off, which was too soon for Vivian's taste.

Vivian sighed and curled up. Sleep. She needed sleep.

"Your Moms said you hated showers, but this is excessive."

She knew that voice. Vivian picked her head up and saw her girlfriend sitting in the window seat. "Hey."

"Hey. I'm stealing your electricity. The laundry room at my place flooded."

Vivian gave Jamie a thumbs up and put her face back on the bed. "Cool."

A moment later, Jamie tugged her arm. "Come on. Shower. Did you eat?"

"No," whinged Vivian, but she let Jamie haul her to her feet and shove her towards the shower.

"Want me to make you something to eat or order in?"

Vivian leaned on the door jamb to her bathroom. "It's entirely unhealthy, and it's inappropriate for breakfast, but I'm dying for Chinese."

"It's closer to lunch. When did you get back to the station?"

Frowning, Vivian looked at her watch. It was eleven. Ugh. "I have to be back out there by ten."

Her girlfriend looked amused and kissed her cheek. "I'll make you a sandwich. Shower. Eat. Sleep."

The plan mostly worked like that.

When Vivian met up with Nick again, the older man driving a rather keen Volvo electric, he laughed. "Nice bite, kid."

"Shut up." She slid into the passenger seat. "You're just jealous."

"I am. Of youth and resiliency. But that's the second time you've show up with a hickey. You should talk to your girl about hickeys where your shirts can't hide 'em."

"We are not talking about sex, unless you want me to ask my Mom for ammo."

Nick held up his hands and Vivian smirked. They weren't hickeys at all, they were legit bite marks. Which Vivian hadn't even known she liked until, hello, their third time. If you counted that first night as once, even though it was multiple rounds. Gail-math would call it one time. Holly would roll her eyes and admit she didn't actually keep score. But Jamie... Jamie was athletic and aggressive in bed. It was unexpected, but Vivian quickly found out that Jamie threw her all into whatever it was she did.

They were compatible.

"You ready for tonight?" Nick cut into her rather dirty thoughts about her girlfriend.

"We sell this car back, try to get in good with Ally if she shows up, and rinse and repeat?"

"Ah, not this car." When Vivian arched her eyebrows, Nick smiled. "This is too new. We need to steal an old Volvo."

Vivian sighed. "You mean I have to steal an older car. From...?" Nick held up a slip of paper. Vivian read it and looked at her partner. "I'm stealing a car from Gerald?"

"He actually owns the car. He's been trying to retrofit it since his step-dad died."

Oh. Vivian sighed. That was right. Uncle Al had driven a Volvo with all wheel drive. He'd let her drive it a few times. It was the third car she'd learned to break into. "Was that his idea?"

Nick looked confused. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"His step-dad is— _was_ Mom's god-father."

At least Nick had the grace to wince. "I forgot... Chief Santana looked so young."

Uncle Al had looked incredibly young, right up until his stroke. It was only a year after that, he passed away in his sleep. That funeral had been hard. Both Elaine and Gail had cried over it. That was the only time Gail had cried in front of Elaine, that Vivian knew of. Oliver had been despondent for days. The last call had been a packed house at the Big Building.

Sometimes Vivian wondered if Gail's would be like that. She'd asked Vivian to make sure it was at Fifteen, but only if she was still in blue. If. That was a strange thought. The older Gail got, the less likely it felt that she would die in the service. Pecks retired, and it was Elaine and Gail and Steve who made that possible.

"Drop me off at the end of the alley," said Vivian. "Go to the drive through and get some shitty food."

"Who, exactly, is in charge here?"

Vivian flipped Nick off. "Gerald's neighbors know he's a cop. If you lurk it'll be suspicious, dumb ass. Get me a burrito."

Nick rolled his eyes and dropped Vivian off as requested. "Don't get shot."

She flashed him thumbs up and pulled her hoodie up over her head. Between that, the leather jacket, and the black watch cap, Vivian knew she was good. She looked like a fucking criminal, but she was good. As she neared Gerald's place, she realized he had the fucking car in his garage. Shit. He couldn't have parked it outside for her? At least it was a barn door garage.

Vivian pulled on black latex gloves, the thick kind the CSIs liked to use, and carefully tried the side door. Locked. Vivian rolled her eyes. Fucking Gerald. She eased her lock picks out of her jacket and quickly popped the lock. Inside, she was grateful to see it was all set for her. No keys, but the door was unlocked.

Before she opened the garage door, Vivian checked the wiring. Security systems on a garage like this were minimal, and she knew Gerald would turn it off. But he was also the sort of idiot who might forget that his automatic lights were on. Vivian sighed when she found the automatic lights, and the security system. She carefully disabled them using Gerald's code. 4271. His fucking badge.

Thirty minutes later, she pulled up beside Nick in the burger shop. "Took you long enough." He held out a bag and a drink.

"Asshat had his security on. No burrito?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Come on, sidekick. Let's go meet an arson supplier."

"I'm not a sidekick."

* * *

Lying on a yoga mat on the floor of her office, Holly stared at the tablet in her hands. She tapped the results from the last set of samples Vivian and Nick had brought in, skimming them enough to confirm her lab's conclusion and passing that on to Kelly. Then she pulled up her other records.

The results from the multiple casts she'd made after 3D rendering multiple variants of bones based on the measurements of skull indentations, had finally paid off. Holly had sweated it out, trying and retrying her experiments over and over, for a year almost, and at long last she had what had mathed out as an 81% probability. Which meant she had a strong match for actual bones in actual people.

She knew whose bones had been used to kill people.

And she knew who wielded many of the bones.

And she knew they were no longer using Bethany's bone, which meant her killer was likely dead.

Finally, decades deep, she had answers. "Hey, Siri. Call John Simmons."

The man picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Doc. Trujillo got your results from Kelly. Looking solid."

"I'm calling about our other case."

John was quiet for a moment. "Am I still ... That's still mine?"

"Well. You and I know more about it than anyone else. And... This may be an in person conversation, John."

He exhaled. "Let me pick up coffee and I'll come over."

Holly agreed, hung up, and rested her phone on her stomach. She didn't really want to have the conversation with John at all. She'd love to just file the case away and not look at it on so many levels. But. He'd stayed on the case for a reason. No one, not a single detective, knew the case like he did. And Gail had refused to pull him off, even after Bethany's involvement was discovered. Both IA and SIU had cleared John of all possible involvement. At this point, it would be impossible to find a detective of note in Toronto who hadn't touched the case. And it was OC's baby, which meant Gail could do what she wanted.

"Uh, Doc. You okay?"

She looked up at John. "That was fast."

"I was at the coffee shop."

Holly smiled and carefully sat up. "My back's been bothering me more and more."

"Perils of getting old."

"Sadly." Holly stretched a little and then walked past John to close her door. "Gail's suggestions of yoga are more and more appealing."

"She's devilishly clever, our Peck." John sat down on the couch and winced. "She also said I can keep working the case as long as I feel comfortable. Which is about as sentimental as she ever gets."

Holly took her coffee. "She means it, John."

"I know." He looked up at her thoughtfully. "You figured out who the mentor was? The ones who trained, or followed, Haan?"

He was smart. That was why he was family still. Holly sat down at her desk. She fired up her tablet. "They stopped using Bethany's leg bone just under twenty years ago."

"And the cars changed at least twice since then. I know her killer is dead. I've known. Just... You were looking into the uses of each bone."

Holly nodded. "The last use of her leg bone and the first use of the next have a strange overlap. I thought it was something with the compilations of all the files from the '80s being converted. Except we did those first and I checked them."

"Hang on. You got the old hard copy and checked?"

Blinking, Holly nodded. "Of course I did." Gail hadn't thought it weird when she'd come by Holly's office and found the boxes and boxes of old reports, and one harried intern typing it all in. "And I found another pattern. The targeted cars change before the weapon."

John looked thoughtful. "They use their predecessor's weapon of choice until they find the right one?"

"Exactly. Sometimes it's three or five kills in before a leg bone goes missing. So I found the first related case with missing thigh bones after the car change, and dated it as the last known use of her bone. And this is the devilishly clever part. They would put the old bone in place of the new."

"Oh." He frowned. "But you said missing."

"They usually took both bones, you see," said Holly, smiling. "Ms. Naomi Grainger, on the other hand, was missing one."

John screwed up his face. "Why not use Bethany's?"

"Based on the skull impressions, it broke."

"And someone would have noticed a broken leg ..." John startled. "You need a court order. We can exhume her." When Holly nodded, John twitched. "Jesus. Do ... No, you can't know who killed her."

"Ah, actually ..." Holly trailed off. "This is where it gets complicated."

"What part of this case isn't?"

Holly smiled at her friend and coworker. "It's a bit of the ball and cups game, I know." Tapping her tablet, she brought the notes up. "The killers are a little clever. They don't always switch over to their new vehicle right away, maybe feeling things out. But. They change. Taller, shorter, stronger, weaker. Their attacks change by the necessity of physiology. Which means I can find their first attacks."

"That's a good paper theory, but what if they're coached." John shook his head. "And just because Heinrich Hann died at the hand of his protégé doesn't mean they all did."

"True. Personally I'd want to make sure my apprentice got things right. And kill them myself if they didn't."

"So noted." John rubbed his lips. "You didn't measure the heights and weights of every single death to find likely suspects, did you?"

Holly nodded. "Of course I did. And I found some matches."

"Some isn't all."

"No. And some require a little more legwork." She pulled up a map. "I re-did my data of who killed whom, added in where, and I think we can reasonable draw a base of operations for each killer."

John took the tablet and read it carefully. "And based on the damage, you have the specs on our most likely killers?"

"Precisely. It's not perfect, but I think... I think if we find all the people who meet the physical criteria, we maybe can find a couple killers."

She watched John stare at the notes for a long time. The fact was that so far Holly had a lot of overlap. Too much overlap. On the one hand it explained why this had gone on so long and been undetected. Everyone was looking for _a_ killer. They should have been looking for a dozen or more. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Email me all this? I'm going to see who we can spare from arson detail."

"Of course," said Holly, smiling as she saw how energized John became.

Handing back the tablet, John went to the door. "Hey, Holly?" He looked back, almost shyly. "Thank you." Holly canted her head at the detective sergeant, confused. She didn't need to voice it; she knew John would understand. "Sometimes it feels like everyone else puts this on the back burner. Like its forgotten. But you ... You never gave up. You kept working on this, for decades. And even if we never find out everything about the people who killed Bethany, we may find some closure for other people. So thank you."

Holly blushed a little. She wanted to demure, to brush aside the work, but then Holly remembered what Elaine always said. And she nodded. "You're welcome, John."

* * *

Wednesday.

A week of undercover.

Gail chewed the side of her thumb and waited for Nick and Vivian to slink in.

"You're like a nervous father at birthing," said Traci, chiding her.

"They made contact with Ally."

"Nick is good at this stuff."

"Nick got busted at this stuff and had to dry fire a gun at McNally's head."

On her other side, Andy made a face. "Thanks for reminding me. I nearly pissed myself."

"You should have hit him," said Gail, nibbling her hangnail.

Andy shrugged. "You gave him a black eye."

True. Gail sighed and waited as uniformed Vivian and Nick came into Andy's office. Not slinking. Vivian was grinning like mad and Nick looked ... It was a familiar look. Gail had seen it many times before when she'd bested Nick at multiple things. Oh. "She Peck'd him," said Traci, knowingly. Proudly. Happily.

"Gail, I hate your kid." Nick sat down and yawned. "When did she learn how to spew science?"

"You've met Holly, nimrod."

"He's mad because I'm smarter. You should have gone to college instead of the Army, dingus." Vivian grinned and slapped his arm, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Is Ger— is Officer Moore really okay with us stealing his car?"

Andy smirked at her. "Yes, Duncan's alright with it. He said his stepfather would have."

"Uncle Al," said Gail thoughtfully. "He would have handed over the keys himself." She sighed. Of all her dead family, extended and otherwise, she missed Al the most.

"He left his automatic lights on," complained Vivian.

"How about you tell us what you did to show up Nicky." Traci held out a coffee.

"She saved the entire supply chain about five hours of overhead and hundreds of money in waste by helping them come up with a faster, cheaper, safer way to drain the oil and then showed them how they could recycle the oil. Which is how we met Ally."

And Vivian beamed.

Gail rolled her eyes. "And while she was being brilliant, what'd you do, Collins?"

"Picked Ally's pocket and put a tracker on her cellphone." Nick turned to Vivian with an aside. "I still think the watch would have been better."

"She'd notice." To the detectives, Vivian explained. "She has a smart watch. Always tapping it. I think she'd notice if we put a tracker on it."

Traci looked thoughtful. "Hackable smart watch?"

"Encrypted. I tried sniping." Vivian shrugged.

"Technogeek," said Nick.

"Luddite," replied Vivian.

Gail smothered her laughter. "Okay, kids. Traci will keep tabs on Ally in the day. At night, see if you can get an invite."

"Oh that's easy," chortled Vivian. "She thinks my uncle Nico here is sexy."

Everyone turned to look at the blushing Nick. "She's young enough to be my daughter!"

"Work it," said Traci, firmly.

Andy pursed her lips but said nothing at all about it. Something was bugging the girl guide. Instead, she brought up the other topic. "For you, I have a lead on your video leak."

Nick looked up, interested. "Someone we need to watch out for?"

"Nope. He turned himself in yesterday. Peter's roommate was setting up the camera to video his _own_ sexcapades later that day. Apparently the girl was into it, but they wanted it to look 'porno style' and set it up on a motion detector."

Gail took over the explanation. "Which naturally the boys accidentally triggered. The girl thought it was hot, which ew. Shared it with a friend of hers and so on and so forth until it was all over the net."

Both Gail and Andy were fairly offended by the whole thing. Gail, because she'd been accused of being the leak. Andy, because she didn't seem to appreciate pornography. Privately, Gail made a note to tell her about Holly's adventures as "Miss May" later on.

They finished the debriefing and sent the duo upstairs, with Traci, to connect with Trujillo. Gail waited behind. "Hey, Andy. Are you really okay with Nick hitting on jailbait?"

"No, but I kind of have to be." The sergeant fell into her desk chair. "That's not the ... That isn't my thing."

Gail hesitated. "I'm going to regret this. What's wrong?"

"My dad needs a liver. Or part of one at least."

Oh. "Shit, I'm sorry." Gail frowned. "Is he not up for transplant because he's an alcoholic?"

"They can't put him on the transplant list." Andy slouched. "I'm not a match."

Gail blinked a few times. A half forgotten conversation with Andy earlier that year came to mind. And then the one with Holly about Andy's eye color popped up. Brown eyes. Her mother and her father had blue eyes. Andy had asked about it before, but never ran the DNA tests. "I'm not a match for my brother either. It happens in families sometimes. Holly tried to explain it, but it was kinda boring."

Andy smiled thinly. "I thought you hung on her every word."

"I do, but if she's not super interested in a thing, even she can't make it sexy." Gail shrugged. "Do you, uh. I can ask Holly if she has any doctor friends in transplants."

"God, no. Gail, you guys did enough for us with Finn."

Gail winced. Finn, Nick's brother, had been committed. He wasn't doing well at all, and the temporary hold had resulted in long term care, as well as a termination of rights. Finn was now in the care of Nick. His younger brother had charge of all things, financial and medical. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's... Finn is Finn." Andy shook her head. "I looked it up, online. The ... The odds of me not being a match."

"McNally. It happens all the time."

"Did you know there are blood types that are impossible?"

"Uh. I'm pretty sure they're all possible."

"I mean... I'm AB and my dad is O."

Fucking punnet squares. Gail frowned and tried to remember that. "So... What? You're universal acceptor?"

"An O can't have an AB child. I Googled it."

"The Internet is bad for you, McNally." But Gail remembered the squares. "There's always the possibility of mutation," she offered, but neither of them really believed that.

"Sure, and that explains my eyes, too."

Gail narrowed her eyes. "Did you talk to Holly?"

"What? No! I've... God, I didn't want to. Why? What did she say?"

Gail shook her head. "No, no, never mind."

"Gail! We're friends!"

Shit. "Okay. Um. Holly noticed, ages ago. Your— Tommy has blue eyes and you have brown. It's _possible_ but it's really unlikely."

Andy stared at Gail for a long moment. "Holly knew?"

"Suspected. I made her swear not to run your DNA."

Grim, Andy muttered. "So. He's not my father."

"You don't know for sure."

"I don't need the DNA test, Gail. Neither do you. You know I'm right."

Making it worse, Andy had been abandoned by her mother. They'd made up since, but... Abandoned by her mother to be raised by her not-father had to hurt. Gail sighed and leaned against the closed door. "He is, Andy. He's ... Look. He raised you. He took care of you. And yeah, he was a drunk asshole. But he loves you."

Andy sighed. "You think he knows?"

"Maybe. If I were you, I'd ask your Mom."

"Ugh. I wish Nick wasn't working all hours."

Gail winced. "Sorry. They should be wrapping up soon, if we're lucky."

"Gail." Andy sounded exasperated. "When have we ever been lucky?"

* * *

The killer looked nothing like Vivian expected. She'd seen pictures of him. Hell, she'd seen him giving a blow job thanks to the Internet and a leaked video. In person, he was just different. Something about the stance showed a boy ready to blow. They'd all be taught how to read people, how to try and interpret their motions and actions and words to understand intent. The Academy had been good for that, but so had her grandmother.

After Vivian had expressed her interest in policing, Elaine had changed their hangouts on the lake shore from abstract people watching to studying. She'd spent hours learning how to tell nerves from fear and from general malaise. And looking at Peter Hastings, she was reminded of exactly why people were afraid of white guys.

He looked like, if you handed him a rifle, he'd shoot up the town.

Vivian ducked back down and removed the filter on her latest 'stolen' car. It was one from Timmins, and it had to be shipped down, but thankfully it meant she'd had two days to catch up on sleep. Jamie was on the end of her three on, sleeping away her Friday, and planning to meet Vivian and Gail at the Penny on Saturday after the shooting match.

"Hey, junior." Nick's voice was quiet. "How's it going?"

"Last one done." She held out the filter and Nick took it, nodding. "Go charm her."

The older man nodded and headed over to Ally. Within seconds she was hanging on him, giving Vivian a perfect opportunity to watch Peter. He was simmering anger. And packing heat. The bulge under his sweater was unmistakable for someone trained by Elaine Peck. Striving for the casualness that Gail was brilliant at, Vivian pulled out her burner phone and sent a message to Trujillo. It was simple code, telling her that Peter was here and armed. Immediately she got a message back to keep him there.

"Hey, no phones," snapped Peter. "Who are you?"

"Petey, chill," said the owner. "Vicki's a runner from... She knew Sly."

Peter scowled. "No phones."

Vivian held her hands up. "Sorry. No phone." Hesitating a moment, she turned the phone off. That, in and of itself, was also a signal. Not being able to communicate meant they would send people in. Soon. Well maybe soon. It was only her phone. Nick's wire was still on. Only half a worry.

"What are you running from?"

"Ghosts," said Vivian. "You?"

"Me?" Peter scored. "How'd you know Sly?"

She shrugged. "The way most folks do. I guess." Vivian sat in the half stripped car. "Right now, I'm just looking for making enough dime to get out."

Peter sighed. "You can't get out."

"Not really sure I want to, truth be told. Maybe just some place a little quieter. Less painful."

The boy eyed her. "Is that possible?"

"If like to find out." Vivian looked up at him. "I don't think I'm getting any closer someways."

He fell silent. "Well you won't with the narc."

Vivian blinked. "What?"

"Nico. He's your uncle?"

"Not really, but y'know how that goes?"

Peter nodded. "He's a cop. I can smell it on him."

Shit.

Well there were a few ways to play that. Vivian scowled. "What? No way, he's had my back since — since the shit went down."

"Cops got Sly."

Vivian shook her head. "Come on, no way."

"He's wired. I can see it."

And Vivian stared at Nick. He _was_ wearing a wire. She knew that. After a long talk with Trujillo, Vivian was not. They figured it was more likely she'd be searched. Vivian was the right age to fit in with Ally's gang. Maybe she was a little older, but she was a better fit than Nick. Vivian hesitated. Which way to go was a difficult choice.

Peter lifted his sweater. "Want me to...?"

Vivian eyed the gun. "No." She exhaled and stood up. "No. This is family." She strode over to Nick and slammed her palms into his chest. "What the fuck, Nico?"

Stumbling back a step, Nick's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm asking you what, you ass." And Vivian grabbed his coveralls, yanking them down and pulling his shirt open. "You son of a bitch." The wire was there for everyone to see.

Ally gasped. "What the hell is this?"

Ruthlessly, Vivian yanked the wire, tape and all, off Nick's skin, shouting into the mic. "He's wearing a fucking wire!" Carefully Vivian did not step on it as she shoved Nick, hard. Dropping it, she stomped near it, and thanked the hell out of the acting classes she'd taken in college. "You traitor. You son of a bitch traitor!" And, just like Holly told her a year before, she drew back and slugged him hard in the gut.

Nick was, of course, prepared for it. She telegraphed it a mile away. And he went with it. "It ain't you, junior," he gasped, clutching his stomach. Vivian kicked at his feet, not enough to make him really go down, but enough to look good.

As she reared back for another kick, Peter grabbed her arm. "Get his phone."

"Right." Vivian shoved at Nick and dug his phone out, turning it off.

Peter took it out of her hand. "Ally, break it."

Without hesitation, Ally dropped the phone in the vice and shattered it. "If he's a narc, the cops have to be close. I'm sorry, Vicki."

Vivian ran her hands through her hair. "Shit."

"I may as well kill him," sighed Peter, pulling out his gun.

Everyone went crazy. Vivian swore. "Hey, woah!"

"You still want to save him?"

Vivian looked from Nick to Peter. Her persona wouldn't, but Vivian was font of Uncle Nick. "I don't..." She shook her head. "I'm a wheel man, not a killer."

Peter lowered the gun. "Tie him up."

That she could do. Vivian tied Nick up and hoped no one noticed his wife was still transmitting. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Shut up," replied Vivian, but she tied him loosely. He could get out if he tried

"New girl. You're the one who came up with the ways to pull out the filters and shit with less loss?"

Vivian blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"Get me a filter, a pan of oil, and three sparks."

Immediately Vivian knew what was going to happen. A fire. She nodded and collected the items, along with a bag of rags. Under Peter's direction, she put together the little fire starter, along with a delay timer (something Vivian had not quite been able to figure out herself, not entirely). Meanwhile, Peter corralled the others, the owner and her crew, getting Ally to take their phones and locking them in her office and ripping out the landline.

"Right. We're done, Ally."

"Petey, we don't have to do this."

"Come on, don't be dumb. You know they're after me. Right, narc?"

Nick nodded. "They said they'd move me and junior out, get us away from here. New lives."

It was a good story, thought Vivian. "Jesus, Nico. Why didn't you tell me?" She shook her head, hoping she sold the lie.

"Don't ask him," advised Peter. "Light the fire."

Vivian hesitated. "What about me?"

Peter and Ally shared a look. "She can drive," muttered Ally. "And she's smart."

"Alright." Peter nodded. "Light the fire and come with us."

Thankfully she was spared lighting the fire (and a doubtful future), by the loudspeaker.

"Attention. This is the police. We have the place surrounded. We just want Peter Hastings."

Nick exhaled, relieved. "It's over, kid. Put the gun down."

"Shut up old man."

Any other day, Vivian would have laughed. "He's right, Pete. The last thing you want is a gun."

"What the hell do you know?"

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "I was there when the Hills went down," she said quietly. "They had cops as hostage. And Red didn't walk out."

Peter stared at her. "You... You're ... You're picking him? Even after he betrayed you?"

"He's family," she said. "Put the gun down. Please."

Unexpectedly, Ally jumped, grabbing the gun. They struggled over it, until Ally screamed and went flying one way, the gun the other, and Peter ran up the steps.

Within a heartbeat, four uniformed officers and three detectives burst in. "Jesus, that went tits up," snarled the world's most familiar and comforting voice. "You two okay?"

Vivian nodded at her mother. "I'm good." She looked at Ally who held her ankle sobbing. "He's unarmed." And she started towards the officers.

"Stay here." Gail's voice cracked like a whip and Vivian recoiled. Her body came to attention. "Take Ally to the bus. MacLean is outside. Keep her safe."

Vivian nodded, reflexively. "I... Yes, ma'am."

But Nick had a brain. "Where are you going?" He rubbed his wrists and let Rich finish untying his feet.

Gail looked up the steps. "To stop a suicide."

* * *

Talking people down was something Steve was better at. He was calm and collected and funny when it was needed. Gail sighed and sat down on the building ledge, looking down at the ground. She had to lower the bar. Peter alive was more useful for her closing the case properly, which was horrible. Except there were two cases. The arson case was easy. Gail wanted the damn school to rot in hell, and for that she needed Peter's help.

"How'd we come here, Peter?"

He wiped his face, smearing dirt along the tear tracks. "I'm jumping. I don't know what you're doing."

"Trying to talk you out of it."

"Who are you?"

"Gail. Peck. I'm one of the cops you were shouting at. And yes, Nico and Vickie are two of my UC ops."

"You've been on to me?"

"Months, Peter. Just making sure we had the evidence lined up."

"Damn it... How did you know?"

"It's my job to know this stuff, Peter." Gail gestured.

"What would you have done if I still had my gun?"

Gail looked at him, thoughtful. Honesty was needed here. "I would have waited you out and made sure you were out of bullets first."

He stared at her."You'd count shots?" Gail nodded and Peter sighed. "Shit. I thought only tv cops did that."

Gail shrugged. "My parents made me learn how to do that stuff. Count shots. From multiple guns. It's pretty useless, in so far as normal life goes. But for a cop, it's helpful."

"Jesus, your parents were sick fucks."

"True." She leaned forward. "My father stopped talking to me when I came out." Peter startled. "He asked me what he'd done wrong, as a parent, and never really accepted it. He was also a race purist, didn't like multiracial families, so falling in love with a woman who happened to be a little Moorish didn't help."

"Moorish?"

"Southern Spain, dark skin." Gail absently checked her gun in its holster, as unobtrusively as possible.

Peter turned away. "So they sent you here cause you're gay too? Like you know what it's like."

"Actually they wanted me the hell away from this case because I'm gay." She looked down at the street. "I didn't have any problems, except my dad, when I came out. Well and one ex-boyfriend. He got over it."

Sneering, Peter stepped closer to the edge. "You don't understand at all."

"No. Not like you do. But I do understand this. Your whole life, you've been pushed around for being different, treated differently. People's expectations of who and what you were trapped you. And then finally you found someone you connect with, that got you, and it all made sense. Finally you felt like you. And it happened to be with a guy." She shrugged. "I get that. I really do. And now… Now they want to erase Toby being gay from history, erase the boy you loved, because they're afraid of shame. And they want me away from the case because they know I'll put it out there."

Confused, Peter swayed side to side. "I don't get it."

Gail nodded. "It's confusing. They know I sympathize with you, Peter. And because I understand why you're doing this." She paused. "Well that and I don't give a fuck about embarrassing them. That's not my fight."

"What is?"

"Answers."

Peter looked more confused. "How is that a fight?"

"You're fighting for it right now."

He frowned. "I want the truth."

"Okay." Gail took a deep breath. "The way I figure it, the school lost their biggest athlete in decades. Suicide. Toby was under an incredible amount of pressure from the school to succeed, his coach was a raging homophobe, and he was in love with you."

There was a noise and Gail noticed Peter was crying. Her earpiece sprung to life. "Gail, the coach confessed to Mayhew," said John. "Said he knew Toby Gale was gay and threatened to cut him if he didn't drop his, I'm quoting here, 'fag fan.' Good luck."

She wished she could thank John aloud. Gail waited a moment more, to be sure Peter wasn't going to ask anything. Then she went on. "The coach threatened Toby. Wanted him to chose. You or the team."

"He loved the team," said Peter, his voice ragged.

"And he loved you, Peter," said Gail softly. "He couldn't give either of you up."

Peter hitched a sob and covered his mouth. "He gave us both up."

"Well. That's his asshat coach's fault." Gail heard John confirm that one.

"Why stop me?"

"From jumping? The coach."

"I don't... I don't understand."

Of course he didn't. He was too wrapped up in his own pain to realize that others felt that way too. Gail exhaled softly. She was going to have to use him, focus Peter's pain to something that could change the world. It wasn't the kind thing to do, and it probably wouldn't help him directly for years to come. But it was the right thing to do for everyone. "The coach and the school pressured an athlete into suicide. And then they tried to cover it up. They convinced the parents not to press charges, while blaming you, and they kept the top detectives in the city ignorant of the reality. You're mad, and that's understandable. But you attacked the wrong people. I want to see them go down hard, Peter. And I need your help."

The boy stared at her. "Me?"

"You're the victim here."

He looked astounded. "Me?"

"You." She nodded. "You were set up for this. They were going to blame you for encouraging the suicide. Especially now that the tape hit the news."

"Tape?"

"Video." She grimaced. Shit, Gail was getting old. "Someone put it on Vine."

"Oh. God." He hung his head. "Ally said ... Is she okay?"

Gail waited for someone on her earpiece to confirm before answering. "Broken ankle but she's fine."

Peter nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Anger makes us do stupid things. But it's not too late. You can come down, come with me, and we can make things right."

The sun set, finally, and the lights from the city illuminated their patch of rooftop. And Gail waited. Make the wall smaller, make a connection, and keep them talking. Now she had to wait him out.

"If I go with you, what happens?"

Gail looked up at the evening sky. "You come to the station. Confess. Agree to testify against the school for their big gay coverup. I'll get you a reduced sentence. You'll do less time for the pure arsons, but the murders... " She shook her head. "You killed people, Peter. I can't just let you go."

He nodded. The young man, barely a man, leaned over the parapet again. The tips of his shoes in the wind still. "Does it ever get better?"

"Some of it. Sometimes. You get better."

"I miss him."

"I would too." Gail tried to picture what she would have felt, had Holly actually left for San Francisco. Or worse, what if she'd died? A murder spree of all the Pecks involved sounded plausible. She stood up and held out a hand. "If you jump, then that's it. No more pain for you. But it won't get better. It'll always be what it was." Gail paused and added, "The school won't change without your testimony, Peter. You can make it better for everyone who comes next."

Peter sniffled and rubbed his nose on his jacket arm. Then he nodded and took Gail's hand, stepping down off the ledge. "I can do that." He held out both hands. "I surrender."

* * *

The moment Gail walked in the Penny, Holly had her arms around her and kissed her. Someone wolf whistled. Holly could have cared less. Gail sighed softly. "I'm fine, Holly."

"I know." Holly cupped Gail's face in her hands and studied her wife's face. Gail actually was okay. A little tired and wired, but okay. "Happy birthday."

Gail's lips quirked and she kissed Holly's cheek. Taking Holly's hands, Gail tugged her to the table where Vivian was sitting talking with Jamie. Or to Jamie. The firefighter looked a little daunted. "Wow," muttered Jamie. "You weren't kidding about the PDA."

"Mom worries," said Vivian, pushing a drink towards the empty seat that would soon be Gail's. "You didn't hug me like that when I came in."

"Hey, I worried." Jamie caught Vivian's hand and frowned a little. "We were watching the whole thing on the news at the station."

Vivian smiled. "I wasn't in any danger."

"You saved that girl's life." Jamie leaned in and kissed her softly. "You're kinda a hero."

As Holly arched an eyebrow, her wife laughed. "At least I had my vest on," pointed out Gail, taking the drink.

Jamie startled. "Vest?"

"You can't wear 'em undercover," Vivian said quietly, shooting Gail a glare. "I'm fine. Honestly. Not even a scratch. No one fired a single shot at anyone. They just wanted me to set a fire and kill a bunch of people locked in an office." Vivian paused. "Okay, a gun did go off, but that was accidental."

The shorter girl scowled. "We're going to talk about this later, Peck."

"Good luck with that," sighed Holly. She was amused as Jamie turned Vivian's face and said something quietly. Vivian was pure Gail when she rolled her eyes, muttered 'oh fine' and kissed Jamie.

Gail laughed. "Lisa's right! It's totally annoying from this side."

"Stop," said Holly, smiling at her wife. "They'll take years off your life, Jamie."

Brightly, Jamie pointed out the obvious. "I reciprocate."

"It gets worse." Holly rolled her eyes. "One beer, Pecks."

Both Vivian and Gail lifted their bottles in salute. "One drink," they agreed.

Jamie frowned. "What'd I miss?"

"Mom's birthday. We've got a shoot off."

"You were serious?" Jamie looked from Gail to Vivian and then to Holly. "They're serious? They just took down an arson supply chain, arrested a serial arsonist who was exacting gay revenge all over the city, and they're going to the shooting range?"

Vivian repeated. "Mom's birthday. She's done it since she was 17. 34 years—"

"Hey! No one asked for math, nerd!" Gail scowled but she wasn't angry. After all this time, everyone knew when Gail was really mad. Holly poked her wife's ribs though and cautioned her with a look. She could tell Gail was letting off a little steam, but Holly didn't want it to be in her daughter's direction.

"They're insane," said Jamie, looking a little mortified.

Holly nodded. "I'm resigned to this. Your girlfriend there cried when she was fourteen because we wouldn't let her shoot."

"Mom!" Vivian flushed. "Seriously?"

Gail giggled and high fived Holly. "Fair play, kid! Come on. I booked the range, Nick, Andy, Dov, and Traci are waiting for us. You know how to shoot, McGann?"

Quickly Vivian jumped in. "Say no. Trust me."

But Jamie and Holly did come to the range, watching the shoot and keeping score. Vivian came in a close third behind Traci, and Holly had to explain how the competition was for second, since Gail was still the queen of target shoots. And then there were hugs and promises for a brunch and goodnights and Gail teasing Vivian to be safe and Vivian telling Gail to enjoy an empty house.

And then there was home. Finally.

Holly took her time making sure Gail really was alright on every level. From bumps and scrapes to jangled nerves, Holly took inventory of her wife. It was slow and careful work, quietly savoring every inch that was her wife. Way, way, way back, she'd realized that just dating wasn't enough and she wanted to live with Gail. And then not having some commitment, something to keep them together, wasn't enough.

Now, after decades, it still wasn't enough. It probably wouldn't ever be enough. Holly would never get enough of the achingly sarcastic blonde, her morbid wit, her sharp edges. Older and wiser they may have been, but they were still a quirky scientist and a grumpy cop who just clicked and made each other happy.

After she made sure Gail was perfectly fine, Holly watched her wife drift off into an exhausted and satisfied sleep, lips curved up into a half smile. It was a precious thing, watching Gail sleep. Smiling, Holly settled down only to find that sleep was eluding her.

That was abnormal. She usually was good about sleeping through the night. Her parents had joked she was the easiest baby on the planet, able to sleep hours at a stretch and wait patiently for the parents she seemed to know we're coming. The only time in her life Holly had trouble sleeping had been when she went through menopause. As soon as that passed, she was back to sleeping properly.

By contrast, Gail was the uneasy rest. As a child she'd thrown her toys (with unerring aim, per Steve) at people in order to be removed from her prison and attended to. As an adult, at least by the time Holly had met her, Gail slept sporadically and inconsistently. Part of that was due to her work hours. The majority was from the trauma she'd survived.

But now, Gail was sound asleep. Naked and curled up under the quilt Lily had sent them before they'd married, Gail's mouth was slightly agape, eyes scrunched closed. Her hair, currently closer to red-gold than platinum, was long enough that Gail could brush it behind her ears, and it tickled the collar of any shirt she wore. Crows feet crinkled the corners of her eyes, skin was starting to sag more visibly, and Holly was well aware of both the stretch marks and the grey hairs that had finally made their appearance.

She sighed and gently ran her fingers through Gail's soft hair. Her wife stirred a little and smiled. "Did you forget to put a shirt on?" Gail's voice was rough and scratchy from sleep.

"No." Holly smiled and kissed Gail's forehead. "I don't know why I can't sleep."

"Worried about me. And the storm." Gail snuggled deeper into the blanket.

"What storm?" Holly waited for an answer and, when none was forthcoming, rolled over to put on her glasses and turn on her tablet. The weather app proudly told her that a storm front was about to hit the city within an hour. "You suck."

Gail smiled. "Yes." She stretched. "You're sensitive to pressure changes. And stress from me being shot at."

Holly sighed and put her tablet back down. "It's still terrifying."

Sitting up, Gail reached over and brushed the strands of Holly's hair that had escaped her braid. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"We're not going to have a serious talk about how I hate you being in danger when you're sitting there topless." Holly gestured at Gail's boobs with her index finger.

"Wasn't trying." Gail smirked. "I'm sorry things got out of hand, Holly."

Holly nodded and took off her glasses, lying back down. Right away, Gail snuggled up along side her. Comfortable. Safe. "The definition of your job is when shit gets out of hand, they call in a Peck." Gail didn't reply and Holly sighed. It was the world she'd married into. The world she'd fallen into. The woman she'd fallen for.

Absently, Holly caressed Gail's bare back. Her fingers swept the smooth skin, tracing the curves of Gail's body and bones. She had, at some point over the years, memorized the pattern of Gail. Holly knew every single aspect of Gail's body. There was a nearly permanent dry patch of skin on Gail's left elbow and a scar on her right foot from the time they dropped the fridge door doing home renovations on their own.

She knew the way Gail's muscles moved under her skin. Holly loved the way Gail felt, wrapped around her, skin to skin, and how she was warm and soft when they relaxed on the couch together. There was the way Gail held her breath for a tense moment before an orgasm. The lazy smile afterwards, when all that tethered Gail to the world was Holly.

"Damn it. Gail. How come every time I think about you, I end up thinking about sex?"

"I'm a sex goddess," said Gail, flippantly. "And we have a very physical relationship."

"For someone who hates being touched, I've often wondered how that happened."

Gail propped herself up on one arm. "I met you. And everything started to make sense." She leaned in and kissed Holly's jawline. "I wish I didn't scare you."

"You don't," said Holly firmly, cupping Gail's pale chin in one hand. "You never scare me." She paused. "Okay, no, you did once. When you got mad and threw your phone."

Her wife sighed and slouched a little. "I'm sorry." That was a different level of sorry. The first kind was the reluctant sort of someone resigned to knowing she would always put her wife in some pain. The second was deep regret and guilt.

Holly hushed Gail and ran her thumb over Gail's lips. "Hey. We talked about that. We're a team." Gail bobbed her head a little. It was two decades and she still felt a little guilty. Nothing Holly could do would erase that. But it had been a long time since anything had been remotely that bad.

Turning her face, Gail pressed her cheek into Holly's hand and closed her eyes. There seemed to be a million thoughts going round and round in Gail's head, but she stayed silent. Holly sighed and gently drew Gail back down, settling the paler head on her shoulder. As Gail draped an arm across Holly's waist, she finally spoke. "I had other options, but this was the best one. The one than ended with more people alive."

Sighing, Holly nodded. "That's why I'm scared, but not mad. I trust you."

"Even when people shoot at me?"

"Would you have followed him to the roof if he had his gun still?"

"What? No! Not like that."

"See?" Holly smiled. "You're smart."

"I have this woman I'm in love with. Kinda wanna come home to her."

"For the sex."

"No." Gail paused. "Well. Yes. But everything else too, Holly."

Holly smiled and kissed Gail's forehead. "I know you, Peck. Behind that bitchy façade, you care about everyone."

"Mostly me. And you. And our kid. Mostly me."

"Mostly you," agreed Holly. "Whatever makes you happy."

Gail laughed softly and rubbed Holly's hip. "You make me happy."

"Mm. Good. Then I'm doing it right."

The hand moved inward from her hip, suggestively. "Am I?"

Grinning, Holly turned to her side. "It's a promising start."

* * *

After the birthday shoot, Vivian hugged her parents and then let Jamie drive her home. The firefighter accepted the invitation to spend the night rather quickly. Christian, as promised, made himself scarce, but Vivian really didn't care. The rooms were far enough apart, after all.

For the night, she just cared about forgetting a busy, drama filled day. A long day that had been far too stressful. A whole night and a day with a standoff and shooting and now, finally, something relaxing. Afterwards at least.

Vivian closed her eyes and played with Jamie's hair, smiling in the enjoyable sensation of pleasant lassitude from afterglow. Endorphins were a wonderful thing. The warmth of Jamie's head near her shoulder was equally wonderful. They didn't tend to sleep all up in each other's business, but more nearby. And still, this moment— no these moments relaxing with a girl in bed, they were still novel and cherished. It had been hard to relax enough to sleep with her other girlfriends. There was just something else about Jamie, about someone who'd been through some of the same shit, that made it weirdly safer. Easier.

"How long have you been shooting?" Jamie's voice was quiet. Had Vivian not been awake, she might not have stirred.

"Since I was twelve." Vivian opened her eyes and peered at her girlfriend.

"Oh. Isn't that... I mean... Your... You know what, I'm gonna shut up and not spoil the mood." Jamie drew a finger across her lips. "Zip. Which... You can't see because it's dark."

"Actually my night time visual acuity is off the charts. Mom— Holly was annoyed. I think she wanted me to need glasses."

Jamie laughed a little. "Really?"

"She didn't want to wait for Gail to need them."

"Gail has glasses?"

"Reading. Her mid-range is fine. Distance is starting to go odd, though. Her shooting glasses are prescription now, but I think it's just the tint and not actually magnification."

"Ah." Jamie pressed her face into Vivian's shoulder. "Sorry."

It took a moment to catch on. "Oh. No, it doesn't make me think about my birth parents. It's a different..." Vivian frowned and tried to think of how to explain it. "See. Gail made guns safe. It's not the weapon, it's the person. No one should have sold him a gun in the first place." She'd never understood that part. Maybe she could ask Gail about it later.

Jamie made a noise of understanding. "I get it. Gail and Holly are pretty awesome."

"They are. I love my moms a lot."

"Hot too."

Vivian laughed and pinched Jamie's side. "Never call my moms hot when you're naked in bed, you hose monkey."

Squirming away, Jamie giggled. "Why does Gail call you a monkey?"

"Oh. There was a time I got a little clingy... Long time ago. Holly was in the hospital, sick."

Jamie sat up, holding the sheet to her front. "Sick? She's not like... Terminal?"

Vivian shook her head. "She was exposed to Luongo River Fever. It's related to Ebola." She saw Jamie's expression shift into terrified. "She didn't have it. Her assistant did. Died of it. Mom just had .. Something else. I forget what. Anyway, it was most of a month, she was in isolation. Gail was trying to keep her shit together and not scare me, I was freaking out because they hadn't adopted me and I didn't want to go live with my grandparents. Then Holly got better, they adopted me, and we all lived happily ever after."

For a moment, Jamie looked down at Vivian, thoughtful and curious. "You have had an exceptionally weird life."

"True." Vivian propped herself up on her elbows. "Why are you over there?"

"You pinched me."

"You called my moms hot, which actually is a mood killer." Vivian tugged on the sheet.

Jamie tugged it back. "Hey, it's not my fault Gail looks like a fucking model. And Holly has this total hot librarian thing going on."

"See, now you actually sound like my moms! Mood killed!" Vivian rolled over, turning her back to Jamie, but she grinned. Of course Jamie was right. Her mothers were incredibly attractive and had aged amazingly.

Silent, Jamie snuggled up to Vivian's back, wrapping an arm around her waist. She planted a kiss to Vivian's shoulder. "Monkey."

"Moooood."

Jamie laughed into Vivian's shoulder. "Peck." Somehow she managed to make her last name sound endearing. Jamie's hand ran down her side. "I like you."

Smiling, Vivian scooted back, closer. "You're a warm big spoon."

"You know firefighters. We're hot."

After a brief pause, they both burst out giggling. "That's terrible, Jamie. Oh my god. Now I'm totally not inviting you over for Christmas."

The arm around her tightened. "You guys have a real Christmas?"

Something was odd in the way Jamie said that, and Vivian craned her neck. "Real? Like what? We don't do carols and shit."

"I mean a tree and presents."

"Uh. Yeah. Doesn't everyone?"

The head behind her shook. "Not since Dad was arrested on Christmas, no." Jamie sighed. "Can I come over? I've kinda always wanted to have a Christmas." She sounded shy, like a young girl afraid of rejection.

"Of course you can." Vivian rolled over to look at Jamie thoughtfully. "Of course you can." She brushed her fingers over Jamie's face. Family was family. Wanting a better family than she had was understandable. "Matty's coming too."

"Hm. Is Christian?"

"No. He's going to see his Mom. Which is just psycho, but he loves her."

Jamie reached up and caught Vivian's hand, kissing her fingers. "I like Matty. He's fun."

"I'm glad. He's kind of my best friend."

Grinning, Jamie turned Vivian's hand over and kissed her palm. "Can we shelve talking about BFFs and parents for a couple hours?"

"Oh that's optimistic," said Vivian, smirking. But they did put talk of other things aside for the evening.

After all, Vivian had saved a girl's life and her mother had talked a killer from a suicide. It had been a stressful and successful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bonus chapter to this season. A very Peckish Christmas. But this is the end of the case. Everyone came out alive and a bit of a better person.
> 
> And hey, look at Vivian kind of cuddling!


	21. 02.11 Girlfriend of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no place like home for the holidays. Jamie comes over to the Peck/Stewart house for Christmas Eve. Weather ensues.
> 
> This is just family stuff. It's a long webisode, basically, that takes place between the seasons. It's as close to fluff as I can manage.

"I'm not at all surprised they're singing," admitted Jamie as she helped Holly clear the dishes. "But the karaoke ..."

Holly laughed and loaded the last dish in. "It was a present. Gail used to have to be drunk to sing in public." She smiled over at where her wife and daughter were singing Christmas duets cheerfully, much to the amusement of Elaine.

"Not sure this counts as public."

Earlier, Traci and Steve and Leo had been over. They'd left before dinner to have a quieter family event with Traci's mother. Dov and Chloe and Chris had come by to drop off a present and thank Gail for something. Andy and Nick had called. And Oliver and Celery had come by just before Jamie and Vivian arrived, leaving a mystery box for 'Vivian+1' that the girl had not seen fit to explain.

It sure felt public. Even though now it was only Gail and Holly, Jamie and Vivian, and Elaine.

"Well." Holly turned on the machine. She knew, thanks to Vivian's worried explanation, that Jamie didn't have much of a Christmas tradition to rely on, and that the firefighter had been rather wistful about the idea of a 'real family' holiday. "My family gets drunk and sings on holidays. Gail's ... I think they open presents and go to the firing range."

Jamie looked stricken. "Again?"

"Unlikely. Gail and Vivian may go, but just for practice."

"Every week," said Jamie, a little grumpily.

"Yes." Holly tilted her head. "She will probably go every week for the rest of her life, Jamie."

The younger woman shook her head. "I know, I know. And ... I get it. It's not my normal."

Holly sighed. "Well hell, that describes the Pecks in a nutshell. Whiskey, beer, or something clear?"

"Water. Please." Jamie shook her head. "Is this normal for them?"

That was an interesting question. "Maybe? We usually just do a quiet Christmas, unless we're visiting my family." Holly got two glasses of water. "Elaine usually doesn't come over on Christmas Eve."

Jamie nodded. "And I gather I'm the first person Vivian invited?"

"Unless we count Matty." Holly grinned. Matty used to spend holidays with them in order to avoid family drama. This was presented to them by Vivian simply showing up with the boy in tow when he was thirteen, announcing his parents were nuts.

"He's kind of awesome," admitted Jamie. "I thought he was coming."

"He was. And then he was whisked away to meet his boyfriend's parents, which I'll admit is more important." Holly rolled her eyes. "Vivian would be mad, but I think she's planning something New Yearsy with him."

"Ah. I'm on shift." Jamie shrugged.

"Oh, I am so glad I'm not your age." The doorbell rang as Jamie stuck her tongue out. "Keep that in your mouth, child," teased Holly, and she went to the door. "Gordo!" Elaine's gentleman caller (as Gail called him) was covered in snow and looking rather tired.

Elaine perked up from the living room. "You made it?"

"A near thing. It's coming down." The man stopped in the vestibule and shook off his coat.

Holly frowned looking past him. The snow was buckets. "Shit. Gail, honey, check the weather."

It was Vivian who had her watch up first. "Wow. They shut the Quay. Expecting over a foot in the city tonight..." She looked up. "Gordo, man, you're lucky you made it."

"Took me three hours. I'd have gone home, but I was closer to here." He shivered and Holly quickly went to make him some tea. "If you don't mind, I'd appreciate your couch tonight."

Gail snorted. "Please. You and Mom take the guest. The kids can have Vivian's room."

Jamie startled. "We're staying?"

The weather map popped up on the TV and everyone stared. "Yeah, I think we are." Vivian sighed. "I'm gonna call the station."

As Vivian went to the little sun room, Holly did not miss Jamie's sigh. "Jamie, can you help me for a second?"

There was a set to Jamie's shoulders as she followed Holly up to the second floor. She was definitely unhappy. "What's up?"

"The beds need sheets. Gordo needs to warm up and Elaine's going to fuss over him. And our idiots are checking at work."

Again, the shoulders told the story. Jamie wasn't happy. "I don't want to impose."

Holly laughed, opening the linen closet. "Hardly. You can't control the weather." She got out sheets for the guest room and gestured for Jamie to follow. "So. What's got your mood?"

Jamie startled. "What?"

"I've successfully raised that hoyden you call a girlfriend. I remember her, and Sophie for that matter, as teens. You're broody. The second she went to the phone. So, as a cop's partner for pretty much your whole life, spill."

The firefighter hesitated. "Her first thought was work."

Holly nodded. "So was Gail's." She spread out the fitted sheet and was pleased to see Jamie reflexively took hold to help. "This is the hard thing, Jamie. Falling for a cop." She exhaled. "A lot of cops have problems with relationships because they see pretty terrible things and it screws them up. Or they hurt all the time. They have to go out there, do this. And those two Pecks, they care so much that people don't hurt like they did, that they go back out there every day."

Jamie frowned. "Gail?"

For now, Holly ignored that. "The first time I kissed her, really kissed her, Gail had been shot at and was going back out because she's a cop. It's who she is and what she is. You're kind of the same way. You run into a fire because you know how to handle it, how to take care of yourself in it. And how to survive. So do they."

The firefighter turned a little red. "I wouldn't ever hurt Vivian, Doc- Holly."

"I know. This isn't the 'don't hurt my daughter' talk, Jamie." Holly smoothed the sheet.

"Oh... I've been kind of expecting that one."

Holly smiled. "Do people actually give that talk these days?" She'd never really had one, just casual warnings from Gail's friends and Steve that they knew Gail to be more fragile than she acted. Which was something Holly had already known.

"I don't know... I've never gotten to this point."

Neither had Holly before Gail. She shook her head. If the talk was to be had, Gail would want to do it. For her part, the best way Holly could think of to tell Jamie not to hurt her daughter was to lower the wall. To help Jamie deal with a police officer as a girlfriend. Which was something only Holly was equipped to do.

"Jamie. Dating a cop is hard. They will always put random strangers first. And it will always hurt. Especially when they get shot at. But if you're going to stick by them, you have to accept this is who they are." Holly sighed. "I love Gail. And I love Vivian. Watching them put their uniforms on is the most terrifying thing ever. But I couldn't— I wouldn't change it, not even if I could. This is why I love them."

Jamie silently put the pillows in their covers, digesting all that. Finally, as they spread the quilt, she nodded. "I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"You can always talk to me about it," added Holly.

"Thanks." They headed back down the hall and Jamie paused. "Aren't we going to make Vivian's bed?"

"No. I think she'd rather show you her room than me." Holly grinned as her eyes landed on a photo of Gail and Vivian in uniform together. A rare shot from some event or another where Gail was in her non-dress uniform and Vivian still had her tie on. "You know what though? Those uniforms are terrifying, but they are _so_ sexy."

Jamie followed Holly's gaze and blushed. "God, they really are!"

* * *

Singing gave way to more drinking and to finishing the tree. Gail laughed as Vivian lorded her height and long arms over Holly and put the star, a purchase Holly had made their first Christmas as a couple, on the tree. Really, Gail wasn't a tree and present person. She had often worked the holidays in order to avoid her mother.

Right now, Elaine was sitting next to her boyfriend and her granddaughter's girlfriend, telling them about the time she worked Christmas and had to rescue someone from a polar bear club, after he'd been arrested for public indecency.

"And, handcuffed and bare assed naked, he ran back to the water and jumped in."

Gordo laughed. "What on earth did you do?"

"She jumped in after him," said Gail, handing over refills of the hot rum toddy. "That's how you got your... Your second bad luck charm?"

"Third. The second was from the dog bite."

"Right!" Gail shook her head.

Jamie looked confused. "Bad luck charms?"

Vivian huffed. "Stupid things for our dress uniforms when we get in trouble." She took the jug from Gail and poured her own glass. "They make us stand up on stage too."

"Oh." Thoughtfully, Jamie asked, "Do you have any?"

"One. For last year when I carried Rich out of the building."

Elaine pursed her lips. "Which one is Rich?"

"Abercrombie." Holly wrapped her arms around Gail's shoulders and kissed her neck. "Also two-times, since he puked twice in my autopsy."

Gail smiled and leaned back into her wife's arms. "He didn't really get much smarter after being shot, did he?"

"He's not stupid," said Vivian. She put the mug down and sat on the arm of the couch, beside Elaine. "What's your dumbest holiday criminal, Mom?"

"Oh, hands down, Full Moon Monty." Gail rolled her eyes. "Climbed the tree in downtown on Christmas Eve and dropped trou." She canted her head back to Holly. "Et vous, ma petite chou?"

Holly laughed. "I autopsied an elf. Murdered by Mrs. Santa for sleeping with that jolly old fat man."

Not to be left out, Jamie chimed in. "Last year I pulled a drunk Santa out of a chimney."

"Shit, all I have is the car that went into the lake." Vivian fiddled with her watch and sent the photo to the TV for everyone to see.

The tire tracks told only part of the story. Two drunk college kids tried to find a parking spot the first night of Christmas break. They ended up driving down a sidewalk and marking in the middle of a pond. The next morning, when the sun came up, the ice softened and the car sunk in. Two days, and one hard freeze, later, the cops were called in to find a missing car. Voila. Vivian had texted Gail the photo while they'd been at the Stewart place and Vivian had been home alone.

Elaine sighed. "Does it bother anyone else that she can control all the media in this house from her wrist?"

"It used to." Gail swayed a little, reveling in Holly's warmth. "I liked that one." Making a noise of agreement, Holly swayed with Gail. "Kid, put on some music." A moment later, the sound system was filling the room with soft jazz. Turning, Gail rested her hands on Holly's waist, pulling her close.

Taking a moment to ignore the family in the house, Gail lost herself in the little world with Holly. Life wasn't easy. The morning before, Holly had simply been headachey and complaining about everything. She didn't want to deal with the holidays or even family. Everything was terrible. There wasn't much to be done about it, save for Gail to tell Holly she loved her and help gently nudge them into directions positive.

And now, here, it was back to what everyone else in the room probably thought of as Normal Holly. Well, except Vivian who knew better. As they swayed (it wasn't dancing), Holly's eyes drifted closed and her lips turned up into that smirky little quirk of a smile. Not the one where she almost laughed but the one where she was awkward and goofy and just content with life and what it was.

"Merry Christmas," said Holly softly, her voice a whisper curling around Gail's ear.

"It's still Christmas Eve, nerd."

"Mmmmm. I don't have to give you a present."

"You are my present."

Holly sighed. "Elaine. How come she's so good at saying things that make my heart stop?"

"No idea," said Elaine from the couch. Then. "Vivian, sweetheart, you and Jamie can dance too."

It was Jamie who snorted a laugh. "Two left feet Peck? No thank you. She's a danger on the dance floor."

Gail chuckled. "Try letting Jamie lead," she suggested. But glancing over, Gail saw the expression of actual fear of embarrassment on Vivian's face. "It's uncool to dance with your moms in the room, huh?"

"Entirely." Vivian sighed and shifted, clearly unsure what to do with her body. It was adorably awkward. The child could scale jungle gyms like a boss, but ask her to dance? Uncoordinated.

"How about we do presents?" Holly stopped moving and just held Gail.

"Uh, presents early?" Jamie sounded confused.

Vivian nodded. "We do one, small, gift the night before."

"You got a phone one year, I hardly think that's small." Gail let go of Holly and went to the tree. "Who wants whom?"

Speaking up, Gordo surprised them. "I have something for you, Gail."

"I should like to surprise my granddaughter," Elaine said, thoughtfully.

The core trio shared a look. "Gordo," decided Vivian.

"I got Elaine," said Holly.

"Leaving me the hose monkey. Perfect."

In the minor scramble for gifts, Jamie hesitantly got up. "I... Um. So I get Holly?"

Gail nodded. "If you want. If not, I can take care of it. Don't worry. I was pretty sure the idiot there did not actually explain anything."

Jamie shook her head. "I mean, I got her a present, but it's just..." She reached into the pile and picked up a slim item wrapped in unfamiliar paper. "It's not a phone."

"I got her an ebook one year. It's really not about the money."

"I just don't know if she'll like it... I've never really _done_ Christmas."

Gail studied the young woman's face for a moment. What a curious revelation. Vivian had implied as much but now, looking at Jamie, Gail had a better idea what was meant. "You thought about her. Holly I mean."

Jamie blinked. "Was I not supposed to?"

And Gail laughed softly. "You, child, fit in just fine." Gail reached over and squeezed Jamie's shoulder. "Go give Holly her gift." As Jamie nodded, blushing, Gail changed her mind about the gift. She'd planned on giving Jamie a gag gift, a coffee cup that marked how much coffee had to be ingested before one talked to her (which according to Vivian was two cups). Instead, Gail rooted for the book that had just come out the week before. It was, again per Vivian, something Jamie was excited for and couldn't wait to read, but the ebook wouldn't be out until the paperback was. The hardcover Gail had picked up was also signed, though not to Jamie specifically.

On the couch, Holly was handing Elaine her present (tickets to a comedian Elaine loved), while Vivian crowed over the video game from Elaine. Gordo seemed amused at his new, stupid, winter hat, and put it on right away. Sometimes silly, sometimes not. Gail handed her present to Jamie and sat in Holly's lap to see what the gift from Jamie was.

It was small. A picture frame of a flower pressed in glass. It was purple, which was about as much as Gail knew, or really cared, about flowers.

"Oh that is lovely," said Holly. "Dracunculus vulgari." Gail had no trouble placing the tone from her wife. The doctor was thrilled and trying not to geek out.

Jamie bobbed her head, nervous. "Voodoo lily. Viv... Vivian said your mom's name is Lily, and it's one of the ones that smell terrible, so I thought, y'know, since the other one is kinda cost prohibitive, and this one is prettier, maybe you'd like it? I know you like live plants but—"

It was Vivian who cut off the babble. She leaned over and gently kissed her girlfriend silent. "Mom likes it," said Vivian softly.

"I do," said Holly, wiping her face. "This is beautiful." And Holly hesitated before squeezing Jamie's shoulder. "Thank you."

Jamie's eyes scrunched up and she looked from Holly to Vivian. "You're welcome."

"Before this moment gets too sappy, open your gift." Gail dropped the wrapped book in Jamie's lap. "Junior, come on, we should actually eat something besides cookies."

Rolling her eyes, Vivian hopped up and went to the fridge. "That's code for 'Vivian, put the food in the oven.' Did you even wrap the beef?"

Before Gail could comment, Holly poked her ribs. "Go cook, idiot."

Gail grinned, stealing a kiss, and following Vivian into the kitchen. "Everyone better like my goddamned Beef Wellington," she declared, loudly.

* * *

It was clearly weird for Jamie, being in Vivian's childhood bedroom. But there was no helping it. As the weather apps had predicted, the snow fell and fell. But as no one had guessed, it picked up and the roads were shut down with a foot already. A Christmas blizzard. So Jamie had no place to sleep save the house where her girlfriend had grown up, and no room except Vivian's unless she wanted to crash on the couch, which Vivian nixed.

At least Vivian had her own bathroom, she'd pointed out, which won the argument. No chivalry needed. Jamie would sleep in Vivian's room.

"You really have dinosaurs on the walls here."

Vivian smiled. "I do."

"Is that a ... Is that a princess Tyrannosaurus rex?"

"Uh huh, and a superhero stegosaurus." Vivian smiled and went back to the bathroom to finish brushing her teeth. When she came back out, dressed in an ancient sports shirt and old sweat shorts, Jamie was still perched on the window seat.

"I guess the art makes sense. It looks like something Holly would do."

"Nah, Gail did it when Holly was sick." Vivian yawned and sat on her bed.

"Sick? Oh the Ebola thing?"

"Yeah. It was Gail's surprise for Holly, and me I guess. We painted the whole place before she got home." The story given, Vivian pulled back the covers. "You gonna sit there all night?"

Jamie sighed. "I've never slept over like this... Not in a parent's house."

Smiling, Vivian slid between the sheets. They weren't her favorite sheets, nor blanket, but seeing as she had the quilt at her place, it was what it was. "Holly used to have a no-sleepovers rule. And a no sex at home rule."

"That does _not_ sound like Holly," said Jamie, and she squeezed in beside Vivian. "Obviously that changed."

"Mom pointed out how much more dangerous it was for young lesbians to experiment outside the home."

Jamie snorted a laugh. "Wow."

Vivian yawned and stretched. "Times change." There was a moment of jostling, shifting around to be comfortable in the smaller bed (her apartment had a king, because Gail was forever hopeful), and then Vivian reached over to turn off the light. Darkness fell. The storm outside made it even darker than normal. The wind whipped around the house.

"You sure your moms don't mind?"

"Jamie, they know no one is sleeping on the floor," grumbled Vivian, curling up comfortably and kicking one foot out.

"I know, but... If you were at my place, my parents, you'd be on the couch."

Odd. "Well. I haven't actually met your mythical parents yet, so I'm not sure they exist." Beside her, Jamie laughed a little. "I'm sure no one minds."

There was a knock at the door. "All good in there?" Holly's voice, slightly quieter than Gail's tended to be, came through the closed door.

"All good, Mom."

"Got enough blankets and pillows?"

"Yes, and I grabbed the toothbrush and towel already. Night, Mom."

"Love you, Viv."

"Love you too, Mom."

The sound of footsteps faded away. "That's cute," said Jamie.

Vivian snorted. "I'm not ashamed to love my moms. Hang on, though." There was another knock. "Mom, go to sleep. We're fine."

Gail's bright laugh filtered into the room. "So Holly said. Night, Monkey."

"Seriously, Mom? I'm almost 26!"

The older police officer laughed again. "Night, Jamie. If she snores, make her roll over."

Jamie hesitated. "She doesn't snore if she sleeps on her left side."

With a grumble, Vivian got out of bed and opened the door to glare at Gail. "Go away, Mom." She then closed the door in Gail's face before slipping back under the covers with a loud huff.

Sadly both Jamie and Gail had the giggles. The mother wished them a good night and laughed her way away. "Is it always like this?"

"Never had a girlfriend spend the night with them around before," mused Vivian, and she kissed Jamie's shoulder. "But yes, they always check on me like that."

"I hid in a closet once," admitted Jamie. "She was a cheerleader and didn't want her parents to know."

Vivian laughed quietly. "Did you have to climb out the window?"

"Without a shirt, too. It was not my best moment. We got busted in the back of her car later on. I'd _just_ gotten to second base, too!"

The mirthful laughter bubbled up. "Oh, honey," chortled Vivian. "The back of a car?"

"Shut up," laughed Jamie, clearly embarrassed. She probably hadn't thought about that in years. "I think first times are always weird."

Vivian made a quiet noise. "Awkward." She tentatively reached over and rubbed Jamie's hip. Her girlfriend made a soft noise, which Vivian took as encouragement, and she scooted closer, spreading her fingers out on Jamie's stomach. All she could hear outside was the wind. Most likely she couldn't hear the master bedroom tonight. And Vivian's original plan for that night was decidedly non family friendly. Experimentally, she ran her hand down to the end of Jamie's shirt and attempted to slip under it. Her girlfriend caught her hand and sighed. So did Vivian. "You just cannot relax, can you?"

"No," said Jamie, guilty admitting the fact. "Your moms are right there!" She gestured with one arm.

Vivian peered. "No, that's Elaine. Moms are there." And Vivian took Jamie's hand and pointed towards the master bedroom.

"Viv... " Very gently, Vivian nuzzled the back of Jamie's neck and got an exasperated sigh. "Vivian," she whinged. "I don't want to be the first girl you ... Y'know in your room."

That paused Vivian. "You'd be the third. Just because no one slept overnight doesn't mean I didn't have sex here, hose head." Technically Pia had spent the night, but there had been no sleeping. Did it count as 'spending the night' if someone came over at 3AM, anyway?

"Somehow that isn't making this more appealing." Jamie grumbled. "Wait a second. You had sex at home?"

"As opposed to trying to get to second base in the back of a car?" Vivian laughed again and let go, lying on her back. "Pia, this artist I dated in college, came over a couple times. When Moms were at a conference or out."

That Vivian left out the other person meant it was Olivia. And Jamie clearly picked up on that, based on her next question. "Hang on. Your first time was in your bedroom?" Jamie craned her neck. "Here?"

"Here," confirmed Vivian, letting go and propping herself up on an elbow. "Is that a problem?" She was honestly confused.

Jamie sighed. "I don't know," she admitted at length.

Vivian sighed as well. "I'm bad at figuring out these rules. What's okay and what's not."

The truth of life was Vivian was appallingly bad at reading those cues pretty quickly. It was a strange trait in a cop. But then again, as a cop, Vivian felt like she had a lock on how to handle people in a crisis. Vivian as a person floundered. She wanted a girl to hold her hand and tell her she was cute and kiss her. But she didn't want the snuggles and the cuddles. And she still had no idea how she was supposed to explain that.

"It's just weird. I don't like thinking about you having sex with other people in the same bed I'm sleeping in."

"I changed the sheets," Vivian said dryly. "And it's a different mattress."

"Your parents are in the next room!"

"My grandmother is in the next room. Moms are across the hall, and this is payback."

"That... Is not a good argument, Viv."

Which meant no sex. "They can't hear us, Jamie. The wind is a good buffer." Vivian settled back down, making no more attempt. There was clearly no point. "Okay. Better idea. Look up at the ceiling."

"Ooookay," said Jamie, drawing the word out. She rolled over and then froze. "Wow. That... Wow."

The ceiling was a work of art. Painted in multiple colors, the glow-in-the-dark view of the stars at night were amazing. "Brian did it," whispered Vivian. "Holly's dad. It's the view from the cottage on my birthday, the year the comet went by." Her eyes drifted to the corner where Brian had smeared the little smudge of the comet. As a young girl, Vivian had been disappointed that it was so small and far away. Even Holly showing her the better view via the telescope hadn't helped.

Jamie sounded like she was drowning the vertigo of cognitive dissonance. "Sorry, what?"

"Mmmhmm." Vivian pointed. "The fuzzy bit in the edge, the big one, is Milky Way. No light pollution so you can see it without Mom's telescope. Holly's. Gail got it for her for Christmas... Um. I was eleven? Maybe. Before I was fourteen."

"No, the cottage. What cottage."

Vivian yawned. "Oh. Where the photo of Holly on the rope swing is from. Peck Cottage. Up north a few hours. Lake. Really pretty."

"Oh. Of course. You have a cottage."

It was clearly just dawning on Jamie that Vivian came from moderate money. Upper middle class. There was a bigger difference between them than normal for a cop and a firefighter. Vivian lived in a pretty sweet condo that her mothers owned. She grew up in a house they'd paid off, with three bedrooms and an office. A three car garage. They all had vehicles.

Jamie, apparently, didn't even do Christmas.

"It's about a hundred and fifty years old," she explained, taking Jamie's hand and rubbing it softly. "The first Peck in Toronto built it, and ever generation after added on to it. When Gail's parents divorced, they gave it to her, since Elaine had put some of her money into it, and it was... Well... Confusing."

Tonight didn't need to be a story about how the cottage really was also a horrible place sometimes. That teenaged Pecks were dropped in the wilderness and forced to march home. Instead, Vivian talked quietly about how Gail taught her to swim and use a canoe, but it was Holly who showed her how to fish and name the constellations. She told Jamie about the time Holly accidentally shot off a homemade firework and burnt off her ponytail, and the day the rope swing broke while Steve was at its apex, and the hilarity of when Gail and Holly flipped the canoe while 'napping' and almost lost Holly's glasses (she made sure to use air quotes, and Jamie giggled).

Of course she told Jamie about the summer when Vivian saw a baby moose and sat in a tree for hours, waiting until it's parents found it. Holly had been frantic with fear, but Gail had just nodded and told her she did the best she could, and made homemade ice cream. Finally she ran out of safe, simple, stories.

After some silence, Jamie turned to her side and ran her fingers down Vivian's jawline. "You know how lucky you are."

It wasn't a question. Jamie was stating the fact as she recognized it. Vivian sighed. "I am. I mean, I do."

To her surprise, Jamie leaned in and kissed Vivian, softly, slowly. Very suggestively. Vivian hesitated and then put a hand on Jamie's hip, drawing her closer. It was fairly tame, even for their casual couch making-out past, but there was something behind the kiss that threatened to heat up and overtake them.

As Jamie started to let more of her weight rest on Vivian, she paused. "The bathrooms are between us and your grandma, right?"

"Yeah," confirmed Vivian, confused but not about to pass up the moment. Jamie nodded and moved over, straddling one of Vivian's thighs and gently pressing into her. Things inched forward, the way they tended to, rocking against each other slowly, building up the desire quickly.

While part of Vivian wanted to know what spurred on the change, the greater part of her was getting lost in the soft moans from her girlfriend. "And your moms..."

"Just don't shout," suggested Vivian. Not that she actually cared. Gail might be inclined to comment, but it was probably not worth encouraging or mentioning.

Jamie laughed and bit Vivian's neck. "Noted."

* * *

There was no answer when she rapped on the door. Holly hesitated and then turned the knob. Locked. She knocked again. "Viv, honey. Breakfast."

A muffled voice replied. "I'm playing in my room. Go 'way."

A second voice giggled.

Holly smirked. History repeated itself. "Well when playtime's over, Gail's making waffles for bribery. Some nice, strong, young ladies could perhaps shovel the driveway?"

The second voice sounded surprised. "Your moms don't have a snow blower?"

"Goddamnit, waffles." Vivian was louder and annoyed.

When Holly got downstairs, Gail was whisking her batter. "Where are the kids?"

"Probably taking a shower and putting clothes on. You were right."

"Huh. Rock on, little Peck," said Gail, proudly.

They too had enjoyed sex that night. It was practically a Christmas tradition. But it was more the fact that Gail knew how to make her a little crazy. God, that woman knew how to keep romance burning. Out of consideration for the house guests, Holly had somehow managed to keep the volume at a low, respectable level that night. Apparently so had their daughter. Holly rolled her eyes at her wife and slapped her butt. "You leave them alone about it."

Petulant as ever, Gail looked incredibly put upon. "You don't love me anymore."

"I don't know if I ever loved you," teased Holly, but Gail's faux-hurt expression wore her down in a second. "Gail." She leaned in and kissed her wife. The bowl went down and Gail pulled Holly close and tight. "I am a weak, weak, woman," muttered Holly, giving in to Gail's gravity and kissing her again.

There was a noise at the top of the stairs. "Uh, Viv. Is that normal?"

"Making out all the time? Yeah." Vivian's familiar thudding footsteps came down the stairs. "How bad is the snow?"

"Two and a half feet. Whole city is shut down." Gail did not let go of Holly as she replied. Not that Holly was complaining. "You won't be called in until tomorrow, if at all."

"And I'm working day after tomorrow anyway," complained Vivian, but she availed herself to coffee, ignoring her mothers antics. "Jamie, I'm gonna shovel out the garage and see how screwed we are."

"Do you want help?"

Vivian held up a coffee in a travel mug. "Sure, but you're a guest."

Taking the cup, Jamie sipped it. "Nah, I kinda gotta get it out of my system."

"Oh yeah," laughed Vivian, filling a second travel mug and leading Jamie outside.

Once the garage door closed, Holly burst out giggling. "They are so cute," she told her wife.

Gail rumbled a laugh. "They are. This is the weirdest Christmas."

As she let go of Gail to get more coffee, Holly asked, "Weirder than Dad catching us getting it on in the kitchen?"

"That was your idea," said Gail primly. "And it was New Years. All Christmases with your family are weird to me."

"Even now?" Holly frowned thinking about that. Was Gail still uncomfortable in enjoying 'normal' family things? Did she still feel apart from the Stewarts, who adored her?

Gail, busy with the fridge, missed the frown. "Holly, your father sings like a goat. Your mother can't dance. And your sledding and hiking and New Years Dawn shit makes me old." With a loud sigh, Gail looked back at Holly. She was smiling. "And I love it."

Just like that, Holly melted. It was an adorable moment, a sweet and honest and simple one. "Gail, don't take this the wrong way. But if I wasn't married to you, I'd marry you."

Grinning at her, the blonde put bacon and sausages on the counter. Holly grinned back and sorted out some fruit.

They were still grinning like idiots when Vivian and Jamie stomped back in. Vivian stomped. Jamie was bemused. "It's queerbaiting, plain and simple! It's been like this since that law show in the 1980s. Mom! Tell her!"

Holly arched her eyebrows. "What am I telling?"

"How they always kill the lesbians!" Vivian pulled off her sweater.

"Oh. Well that's true. _LA Law_ just did the first lesbian kissing for sweeps shit. The dead lesbian trope is from the '70s if you think about it..." Looking between the girls, Holly asked, "Which show are we mad about?"

And Vivian launched into a diatribe about a doctor series Jamie had been watching (and by extension, an unwilling Vivian), and how the lesbian trauma surgeon had to have her girlfriend die, because lesbians still weren't allowed to be happy. Jamie's argument was practical, that the actress had picked up a lead roll on a period drama about the early 1900s, and wouldn't be available. Countering that, Vivian pointed out that the heterosexual plastic surgeon had a wife rarely seen on camera, and some equality would be nice.

Holly did not bother to interrupt them. When one or the other asked for historical verification, Holly provided it. But for the most part, she listened to the fairly heated argument. It was rare to see Vivian that passionate about anything. The maltreatment of fictional queers in the media, however, was always going to get her riled up. Thinking back, Holly recalled the first such outburst had happened when Vivian was only ten, watching some silly show about some mythical werewolf world, when the main werewolf character lesbian had to watch her witch girlfriend of two episodes be mauled. The girl had shouted 'Why can't Emily be happy?'

Fifteen years later, Vivian demanded to know why Liz couldn't be happy?

"Probably for the same reasons people still write crime shows about rape," said Elaine.

Everyone stopped and looked at the stairs, where the Peck matron was dressed in one of Gail's fuzzy robes.

Gail smiled. "Hey, Mom. Coffee?"

"Thank you. Gordo's coming. He was calling to see about the streets being plowed." Elaine breezed in and sat at the kitchen island. "Vivian, dear, people like tragedy. And killing off lesbians, like rape, is a cheap trope. Nothing more. The sign of an unimaginative writer, if you ask me. It certainly can be done well and with respect, but is so rarely is."

Vivian grumbled. "I don't like it."

"Vote with your feet," advised Elaine. She looked at Jamie and smiled. "She's rarely a creature of her passions."

"Unless someone's being bullied," Gail noted. "Which this is an extension of, I guess."

"Mom please just make waffles and stop psychoanalyzing me." Vivian grumbled and sat down, draping her long upper body across the kitchen island.

With a soft smile, Jamie leaned into Vivian and rubbed her shoulder. "It's your own fault for being a confusing and convoluted person, Viv." It didn't seem to bother Jamie in the slightest. That was a good thing. "We shoveled the driveway, but the road hasn't been run yet, so unless your cars have four wheel drive or something, I think we're stuck for a bit longer."

"I hate that we don't have anyone in city services," said Gail, complaining. But she also started a second round of the sausages. "Anyone who wants eggs, you're on your own."

Holly smiled. "Emily also had a happy ending when the series concluded."

"I'm still pissed about that," said Vivian, bitterly.

"Who is Emily?" Elaine looked confused.

Taking pity, Holly explained. "Emily was a werewolf on a show Vivian liked. She had a girlfriend who died fairly quickly. Vivian was very upset about dead TV lesbians."

"Dead _fictional_ lesbians. I was like eleven anyway." Vivian scowled. "And that's why I don't like to watch your stupid hospital drama, McGann."

Jamie held up her hands. "Everyone suffers equally. They killed of the lead character's husband."

From the stove, Gail snorted. "You're not making a good case there, Jamie."

"Life is painful enough. I don't need a fictional reminder that people die in horrible ways." Vivian sighed. "And not for people who have been used as a ratings ploy."

"Viv," said Gail, warningly.

"I'm not, Mom. I'm voting with my feet and not watching. I hate being a trope."

Elaine huffed. "You know. I often wondered if sexuality was a choice, societal, or genetic."

"Oh fuck," said Gail quietly.

But Elaine went on. "Clearly there must be some genetic predisposition. But the choice to act on it is separate, and societal pressure to be normal is—"

"Mom!" Gail cut her off. "No. No more talking about politics, sexuality, queerbaiting, or anything else volatile until _after_ breakfast. Next person to bring it up gets asked how the sex was last night."

Holly knew she went red. To her amusement, so did Jamie and Gordo. The three Pecks looked nonplussed. "Well played, Peck," she said to her wife.

"I have my moments."

* * *

Before lunch, the roads started to clear and Elaine drove Gordo home in her SUV. Vivian and Jamie, being in possession of Vivian's motorcycle, probably would have gone home had Holly not nixed the idea until the roads were much clearer. So while Gail sorted out lunch, the girls shoveled out the walk and joked about how they should have taken Jamie's truck (because of course she had a truck), and played video games.

And then Gail realized the house was quiet. Holly had vanished to work on her latest paper, but the girls were silent and all Gail could hear was the soft sound of a sports game.

She washed her hands and walked into the great room. Empty. Interesting. Vivian was usually pretty good about turning the TV off. Maybe they'd gone for a nap. Or whatever. Probably a nap. Jamie had proven to be a little shy about publicizing the sex that had totally gone on the night before.

As Gail turned, planning to poke her head in her daughter's bedroom and tell them to come down and eat, she heard a snore. An unfamiliar one.

Gail knew Holly's snores. The soft almost-snore when the doctor had fallen asleep reading, propped up, was her favorite. She also knew Vivian's snores. The drunk one, the sick one, and the one when she was face planted in a pillow.

This was none of those.

Walking up to the couch, Gail leaned over and saw the girls, asleep. Their feet and lower legs were tangled up as they slept on opposite ends on the couch. Per usual, Vivian was hugging a pillow close, her upper body compact while her legs were more splayed out. On the other end, Jamie was just completely relaxed. One arm was hooked up over her head, the other pinned to the couch.

With a smile, Gail pulled her phone out and carefully took a photo. It would be useful later, no doubt. Then she leaned over and gently nudged Vivian's shoulder. "Hey, Viv. You wanna stay here tonight?"

Her daughter scrunched up her face. "Huh?" Blearily Vivian's hazel eyes opened and looked up at Gail.

"You fell asleep," said Gail, smiling. "You two wanna get up and eat and go home or..."

After a moment of looking confused, Vivian took a deep breath. "If the roads are clear."

Gail ruffled Vivian's hair. "Shoulda taken Jamie's car."

"She has a truck." Vivian yawned and sat up. "Shut up, Mom."

"She didn't say anything," said Jamie, her voice a mumble.

"She's thinking about queer tropes and bikes and trucks. Wanna get up and go home?"

Jamie shook her head and rolled over, snuggling into the couch. "I'm moving in here. Good couch. Good food."

With a laugh, Vivian got up. "Incredibly inconsiderate roommates."

"Yeah, I made you shower and clean your room."

"And have loud sex when you think I'm asleep, or was too young to know you're totally getting it on." Vivian tossed her pillow onto the couch. "I'm hungry."

Reluctantly, Jamie looked up. "Me too."

"Good. Go get your mother out of her nerdery, junior. Jamie can set the table."

With a purely Peck eyeroll, Vivian bounded up the stairs. "Ugh," said Jamie, sitting up. "She has so much energy."

Gail smiled. "She was very quiet as a little girl. It wasn't until we moved here that she started being more boisterous."

Jamie eyed her skeptically. "She's not. She's just... I dunno." Jamie shook her head. "So I'm setting the table?"

"Not if you don't want to. You actually are a guest," explained Gail and she went into the kitchen to finish sorting out lunch. A few moments later, Jamie came in and asked where various cutlery and dishes were.

When Vivian came back, she shooed Jamie away and finished the table, telling Gail off. The two, Jamie and Vivian, had a very different dynamic than Gail felt she had with Holly. Around Holly, Gail felt more like hugging or even touching people. While Gail had really only seen Vivian with one serious girlfriend before, and even with Olivia, the girl had been practically standoffish. She didn't hug.

And yet Vivian was herself. She was still that same little girl who was shy about being touched and had grown to want hugs but rarely, who was goofy and technology minded, and who had hated showers. Around Jamie, she was more like herself than she was at work or out in the world. Vivian smiled more freely, like she did at home. Vivian laughed. And of all things, Vivian had told Jamie about her birth parents.

As long as Jamie didn't turn out to be a serial killer, Gail would be Team Jamie all the way. Someone who made Vivian smile like that was quite alright in Gail's book.

That night, Holly expressed the same thought while Gail brushed her hair. "I like Jamie. She's good for Vivian."

Gail smiled and carefully started to plait Holly's hair into its nightly braid. "I was worrying about how Viv isn't really cuddly."

"Jamie didn't seem to mind." Holly sighed softly, in a satisfied sort of way. She was like a cat being happily petted, absolutely loving having her hair braided. While Gail didn't always have the time or energy to do it at night, it was calming for her as well. "I think she's just physically contained."

"I guess." Gail frowned and tied off the braid. "I just ... I hug you."

Holly turned around and took hold of Gail's hands. "You remember how your mother thought your inability to connect to people was because she didn't hold you until you were months old, and she fractured your bonding ability?"

Of course Gail remembered that. "Vivian wasn't in an incubator."

"No. But I'm willing to bet her birth parents didn't do much hugging or holding, unless they were steering the kids around. Remember when Steve grabbed her arm?"

That Gail remembered less clearly, and she frowned again. Steve grabbing Vivian... That had to be at the cottage. Right! Vivian had been running up and down the dock and it had rained. Traci had suggested she stop. Steve had caught her arm to slow Vivian down. None of them had ever seen Vivian flinch quite like that before or since.

"I'm still not convinced her father never hit her."

"She says not." Holly squeezed Gail's hands. "Sleep."

Gail grumbled and slid under the covers. "I don't want her to think she's broken or anything."

"She knows she's not," Holly said, insisting. "She's different and I think Jamie likes that about her. Not simple."

"God knows," Gail replied with a sigh.

Holly didn't answer. Not verbally at least. The doctor flicked off the lights, snuggled up next to Gail, and held her quietly in the darkness.

* * *

"Hey, welcome back, Peck." Lara bounded up and gave Vivian a super-fast hug around the shoulders.

"I was gone for five days." Rolling her eyes, Vivian poured a cup of coffee and pointed at the box. "Brought donuts."

"Oh! Someone had a good Christmas!"

Vivian smiled. "It was alright."

Her classmate laughed. "Snowed in with your girl?"

"And my moms."

Lara winced. "Okay, that's less fun. You didn't go anywhere for the holidays?"

"Just my folks' place." Vivian sipped her coffee and then asked a question. "You?" In reply she got a stare. "What?" Was there something Vivian was supposed to know and forgot?

But Lara shook her head. "That was you being nice!"

"I am nice," said Vivian, peevishly.

"Yeah, but you never small talk! I mean, you're just a girl-fail."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Do you want me to twirl my hair around my finger and chew gum?"

Lara snorted. "I swear. I will not get a girly reaction out of you if I tell you I kissed Zeb."

For a split second, Vivian wanted to ask 'Zeb who?' And then she remembered and gibbered. "Wait, what? Zeb the bartender? When? Why!? What!?"

"You are a girl!"

"Shut up! What the hell?"

"He asked me out. We went to a movie on Christmas Eve."

Vivian blinked a few times. The back of her brain filed away the reminder that not everyone did Christmas while she tried to process Zeb, the sleeveless shirt bartender at the Penny, being a guy someone kissed. "And apparently kissed. Explain!"

"Come for drinks tonight and I will."

"Uh, fact check. Drinks where your _boyfriend_ works?"

Rolling her eyes, Lara took a donut. "He's off tonight. Unless you have a date."

Vivian pursed her lips. "No. Jamie's on shift."

"In that case come on, have a girl night with me and Jenny?"

"Last time that meant dancing and ditching me for dudes."

Lara huffed. "Can't get a story without paying your due, Peck!"

Watching Lara bounce off, Vivian shook her head. "I bought the damned donuts!"

But Lara was gone and Vivian sighed. She had time before Parade, so she texted Jamie that Lara was making her go out for girl talk.

_I would pay to see that._

_You're not helping._

_Is that my job? Be helpful?_

_That's what awesome girlfriends do in books._

_Awesome girlfriends in real life do what we did two nights ago_

Vivian grinned and sent back a smiling blushing emoji. The reply was the emoji blowing a kiss. Turning her phone to mute, Vivian shoved it into a pocket and went to the Parade room.

It was going to be an okay day. Gerald was in charge, so obviously no one thought any case was coming up into the fray. She had a girlfriend, work friends, and Matty had moved back. While Olivia was gone away, they were friends again as well. Her roommate was a pretty cool, and considerate, friend. Her classmates were people she trusted.

She watched Gerald stumble through parade, taking notes to send to her mother for the laughs later, and grabbed the keys before Nando did, just so she could drive the cruiser.

Pulling her jacket on as she walked outside, Vivian looked up at the overcast, end of December, sky and smiled. The next year was looking pretty good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a quiet, home and family, chapter. A little cute, a little happy, and some drama slipped in, but not too much.
> 
> This brings season two to a close. Season three got a total rip-out-and-rewrite thanks to season three of The 100. The short version is I dialed back some angst and re-wrote a whole relationship angle to make it happier. Season Three starts in MARCH, with the first chapter going up here on March 14, 2017.


	22. 03.01 - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daughter of an old CI goes missing, and finding her is the key to opening a new series of cases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, gentle readers, as another season begins. It's January, mid month, so it's only a few weeks after the last chapter. Everyone's still happy, more or less.
> 
> Someone was recently promoted and there's adult business afoot.

A year ago, Gail had wondered why anyone would do renovations in winter. Now she was talking with Inspector Sebourn, Lt. Tran, and Sgt. McNally about allocating the right amount of space. Just for shits and grins, newly minted Inspector Epstein was there as well. Because why the fuck not.

"Patrol needs the cars," Andy said firmly.

"We're keeping most of our gear at the big building. I'm just talking about a corner of the Pit." Sue ran her hands through her hair.

"A corner of a pit for a van that's the size of a party bus."

Seabourn gave Gail a tired look. "I get why you said no to this gig."

"And yet," she replied. Gail sighed. Because she was still there. "Andy, Fifteen is down by half a squad. You have the space."

The sergeant huffed. "Only if I give up two cruisers."

Dov, the voice of reason, pointed out the obvious. "Two cruisers that are older than my kid. You can scrap them for parts."

"Not the point."

"Jesus, what is the actual point, Andy?" Gail snapped. She knew she should be nicer, but it was exhausting. "We need to move a ready team from ETF into each field for faster deployment. Fifteen is the hub of Center. It's the right fit, you know it. We're not gonna get recruitment like we had when our parents were cops. So let's use the space properly."

Her friend pressed her lips into a thin line. "I'm going to lose four more of my patrol officers this year. Volk is gonna get tapped for detective, and you know Peck's going to try for ETF. We don't have replacements. We didn't get them for Steve. Just how understaffed do they think we can be and survive?"

Seabourn cleared his throat. "We'll be going out to schools and job fairs. Pushing recruitment. Open up the stations again, once or twice a year, for welcoming the public. And Fifteen is getting a transfer and a rookie come spring." He spread his hands out. "We can't make people apply, McNally."

"So I'm supposed to lose and make do?" Andy jutted her chin out, angry.

"We're all making do," Dov pointed out. "Every division is suffering low numbers, Andy. I can't prioritize my old home over other people." He spread his hands out, palms up, pleading. "This reorganization is to help us balance out the needs of the city with the resources we have."

"How political." Andy snarled now.

"Jesus, Girl Guide. You sound like me." Gail muttered to herself. They needed a break. Something to get their heads out of their asses. Thankfully her daughter showed up, looking highly apologetic.

"Excuse me, ma'ams, sirs. Uh, I need Sgt. McNally for a situation?"

Everyone turned to look at Vivian. "We're in the middle of something, Peck. Can't someone else?" Andy sounded so terribly frustrated, it was almost funny.

Vivian bobbed her head. "Yes, ma'am, I know. Except..." Vivian trailed off and looked at Gail. "She asked for Detective Barber."

Tension rippled through the room. Except for Sue and Zeke. The old guard of Fifteen shared a look. Dov recovered first. "Peck," he said softly. "Why does that translate to Andy and not a psych check?"

Clearing her throat, Vivian glanced at Gail again, and then Andy. "I know, sir. But Hanford didn't know who ... Who Jerry was, so he said we didn't have a Det. Barber, and then the woman started crying and saying how Fifteen went downhill since he died, and that only McNally every gave a shit about her."

"She." Gail startled. "What's her name?"

"Falls. Sadie Falls."

Andy's head snapped up. "Sadie? Taller than me? Blonde? Skinny as a rake?"

"Not super skinny, ma'am. But yeah. She's with Fuller in the comfort room."

Swearing, Andy started to leave and then looked back at Zeke and Gail. "I'm sorry, Gail..."

"I got it. Go see why our historical hooker needs a hand." Gail waved and watched her friend head out. "Stay here, Junior." Vivian blinked and nodded. Ignoring both Vivian and Dov's pained expressions, Gail took a breath and explained. "Zeke. Sadie used to be Det. Barber's CI. When he died, she needed some help and McNally took it upon herself to jump in. Twice. About ... God, twenty years ago? She was dealing drugs at rehab. But she's clean now." Gail shook her head. "Why's she here, kid?"

There was a pause before Vivian spoke. Gail could see, clearly, the thought process where Vivian was trying to edit to remove any more mention of Jerry, or the cause of his death. "Her daughter's missing."

That was right. Part of why Sadie had finally cleaned up for good was the birth of her daughter, Maisie. Maisie would be about eighteen or so now. But apparently old habits died hard. Maisie had been in and out of the system since she was twelve.

"I arrested her once for drug trafficking," Dov said, thoughtfully. "Maisie, I mean, not Sadie. She's seventeen."

A minor. "Well. If it's that again, it's my guys. Junior, go grab Nash Peck." Gail pushed her hands through her hair. It was getting long enough to sweep back behind her ears. Not long enough to touch her neck. Absently she laced her fingers behind her neck, pressing her palms against the veins as best she could. It was then she realized Vivian had not left yet. "Viv... Go."

But the young constable hesitated. She glanced at Dov and Sue, then Zeke. Obviously Vivian wanted to say something. "Yes, ma'am," said the girl softly, but her hands moved, signing a question. The question Gail and Steve always asked. The one Vivian picked up on as a child. 'Are the doves singing?'

Gail sighed and shook her head. They were not. But when she spoke, she belied that feeling. "It's fine. Go." Reluctantly, Vivian headed back to the main building.

"I didn't think anything could distract her from ETF," muttered Zeke in her wake. "What don't I know about Det. Barber?"

"A lot," said Dov, in a tone that brokered no further discussion. "Gail. I'll take care of this."

"No, it's fine, Dov. Andy is going to have to ride point, anyway. That should give her something to gnaw on and she'll get over it. We have to do this."

Sue frowned. "We can hold off until summer."

"No, we can't." Gail shook her head. Thoughts of Jerry could wait. "Look. The responses we've been able to muster for large events, like the gangs, like a shooting at a parade and a concert, like the fires. We _barely_ get there in time. The old idea of having a central housing for everything, having two fields, it's not keeping up. Criminals are taking advantage of it. We need to do this. And putting it off leaves us vulnerable."

Both Seabourn and Sue nodded, the latter reluctant, and went out to talk semantics. Dov lingered. "You know. I forget how much you care about the job," he told Gail. "I was always bad about that."

Gail arched an eyebrow. "Shut up, Dov."

"I mean it. I ... No one cares about this like you do." He shook his head, seemingly at a loss. "Why aren't you working for the Super?"

Ah. Gail sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling. She knew the answer. "Remember how I used to snake wins from you?" Her friend nodded. "I don't like that me. And... That's the me I'd be if I was there."

The man looked at her for a long moment and then, at last, Dov nodded. He'd seen the Pecks in action over the last few decades. He knew them at their worst. He knew her at her worst. And yet. Dov was still there. Still her friend.

"Come on," said Dov. "I'll try to find something to make McNally happy. I'm the one who stuck her with this gig."

"Oh good, it's your fault. I like that."

* * *

Sometimes it was easier to give boys the keys and let them drive. Vivian had learned that from her mother. Boys were simple creatures and easily distracted. So when Andy told her to swap out with Aronson, and knowing Christian was still sullen from the last year, Vivian tossed him the keys to 1519 and settled into the shotgun seat.

"So who is Sadie to us?"

Vivian winced. "Sadie used to be one of Jerry Barber's CIs."

"Oh. Wow, she's still a CI?"

"No. She stepped out of the game, got clean, fucked up, got clean again, and ... Well she's okay now. Maisie was born when she was in between fuckery."

"Ever met her?"

"Maisie? No." Nor Sadie for that matter until that morning. She only knew about them from stories. Traci and Oliver were seen as the only ones who would talk about Jerry, and even then never around Gail. And that never really made sense to Vivian, since she knew Gail would freely talk about Jerry if someone asked. Somewhere along the line, Gail had stopped thinking of his death as her fault.

That was something Vivian had asked. They'd been sitting on the dock at the cabin, watching the sunset together. Holly was coming up the next day after court, but summer break from college was still summer break. And that was the time for Pecks to abscond, so they'd packed up and driven out together. It wasn't the first time she'd gone to the cabin with only one of her moms, but sometimes it felt like Vivian never got to go with _just_ Gail. She reveled in those days, where one or the other Mom was hers and hers alone.

They'd had the freedom to talk about all sorts of things that made Holly uncomfortable. Like guns, of course, but also they candidly discussed the dangers of the job Vivian wanted. Gail told her, frankly, what being shot at was like. She told Vivian about the time Chris was stabbed and how she'd been terrified. The times she'd not been able to save people from themselves hurt more, though.

Finally, as the sun set and they drank beers on the dock, Vivian had asked if the deaths hurt more. Gail had exhaled loudly and then said that the ones that stuck around were generally the ones that weren't her fault. When Vivian asked if she meant Sophie's mom, Gail surprised her and said it was Jerry.

Gail had liked Jerry. He was a good guy, a little stupid sometimes, and prone to being lazy, but good. He was a good detective. A good person. And no matter who had been kidnapped, he would have died. It had never been Gail's fault, and while it had taken her years to accept that, she did now. But that hurt, Gail said, because it was tangled up in everything else that Perik had broken in her. The drugs, sure, but her parents not being there when she'd needed them, Nick not really being there either.

In a word, a clusterfuck.

Christian fell silent for another few miles, mulling over the little he knew of all that drama. Maybe he was piecing together his own strange map of the history of Fifteen. "Okay. Can I change the subject?"

"Sure."

"It's not fair. You got to be undercover twice and I haven't gotten to do anything except the scavenger hunt! You did the scavenger hunt and the hookers and the arson. McNally never picks me for anything like that."

Vivian sighed. He had to change the subject to that, didn't he? It had been C's rant du jour since he'd gotten back from vacation. "You remind her of herself."

Her friend and roommate stared at her for a whole red light. "What?"

"You heard how she choked as a hooker _and_ screwed up on the hunt?"

Christian hesitated. "Wait... What? No!"

Ah. Vivian nodded. "Apparently she was really bad undercover. Like epic. And Mom, Holly, said its probably because she's so earnest. Y'know? An honest open book."

Her friend snorted. "Except that she didn't tell anyone about her dad."

"How the hell..." Vivian startled. "How do you know _Tommy_ McNally?"

"I heard some of the older D's talking about it. They said that Andy never went for Detective because it drove her old man to drink."

Vivian exhaled loudly. "Maybe. Yeah." Provided one didn't know that Tommy probably wasn't Andy's dad. Vivian wasn't supposed to know probably, but she'd put snippets of conversations together over the years. A comment by Holly about punnet squares. A remark of Gail's as to how Andy was testing her blood discretely. The fact that Tommy hadn't come to Andy's promotion party when she made staff.

Yeah. It was messy.

"Not like you can know for sure," Christian said, fairly. "But. I'm too earnest?"

"I think so."

He huffed. "Damn. Your closed off crap helps, doesn't it?"

"As long as I'm playing a petty criminal, sure."

They passed a few more blocks in thoughtful silence. "I thought you'd be different with a girlfriend."

"Huh?" She blinked a few times. "What, you meant like Moms?"

"Kinda," said C, sheepishly. "But you're not, and Jamie seems pretty cool with it."

Vivian frowned. Immediately her mind went to the reasons Pia and Skye and others had cited in breaking up. They liked her, but she was too self-contained. Would Jamie feel that way too? Did she want to be all up in Vivian's personal space? "Shit."

"Hey, whoah, I didn't mean to, uh, make you self-conscious... Um. Look, she's over all the time."

"Yeah, I know. But... I'm not cuddly."

"Maybe she's not that kinda girl?"

Vivian sighed and wanted to agree, to point out that Gail wasn't. Except Gail was. With Holly. Ugh. And it wasn't like Vivian didn't know why Gail wasn't huggy and touchy-feely. Gail was the incubator baby who was never hugged. She didn't really get how to connect. Except she'd clearly wanted to since she glommed on to Holly like mad.

And Vivian? Well. She was pretty sure she'd not really been held much as a baby. Hell, there were barely any baby pictures of her. The odds were that she was the accidental baby, and one that her parents hadn't really wanted.

"I wonder if Maisie's like that," she said absently.

"Huh?"

Vivian flushed. "I wonder if Maisie's rebelling and doing stupid things because Sadie didn't really parent her."

Giving her a side eye, Christian huffed. "Your brain is an incredibly weird place, Peck."

"Tell me something new."

He laughed. "Okay, so you think her record is her rebelling?"

"That or we're all doomed to be the kind of idiots our parents were."

With that wonderfully grim thought, they turned down the road to see if they could find a missing nearly adult child.

* * *

"Dr. Stewart. Dr. Angler is running a little late. He had an emergency come in."

Holly arched her eyes at the assistant. It must have been some crisis to happen without the chance for a call to her. "How late? I can reschedule."

"He said fifteen minutes at most."

"Oh..." Processing that, Holly tried to think about a shorter session. "That's fine. We can sort things out if not."

The assistant looked painfully relieved and Holly sat down on the stiff chair in the waiting room. She checked her email, texted her mother a meme that had been going around, and popped on to see what social media was up to.

Unlike her wife and daughter, Holly adored social media. As a young, budding lesbian, she'd been on LiveJournal, writing embarrassing fanfics of her crush on Claudia Christian from _Babylon 5_. From there she migrated to reading terrible smut online, to Tumblr, Twitter, and all sorts of places where she was hidden by the veneer of anonymity.

Medical school took away the free time she'd had devote to things like that. Working in the lab had kept it difficult. But at some point, before she'd met Gail, Holly had created a persona online and cheerfully dipped her toe into fandom again. It gave her a needed outlet. Gail was very much not that sort of nerd. Oh she loved comics and Star Wars, but in a very casual way. Gail's nerdiness was supremely focused in her work, which was certainly a bit of a character flaw. The Gail she'd started dating hadn't really understood the idea of hobbies outside of work that weren't drinking and sex.

Today's Gail would tease the hell out of Holly to know what her online alter egos got up to, though, make no mistake. And Holly was careful not to let slip her real profession (she worked in medicine, was a manager over people, and sometimes things were rather grotesque), or where she lived (somewhere in southern Ontario). That she was a grown up lesbian, married to a woman, with a child, though, that they knew.

Holly felt it was important for the kids, some as young as fourteen or even ten, to know that there was a future. She'd candidly told them once how she'd never thought she'd get married. Lesbians didn't do that. But then her curmudgeonly wife blew her mind and things changed. When they asked things like what it was like when Ellen came out, Holly felt her age but answered honestly.

"Doctor? The doctor will see you now."

Holly pulled her head out of the latest drama with a singer who'd divorced her wife and smiled. "Thank you." She turned her phone to silent and dropped it in her purse. As she walked into the office, she smiled at her doctor. "Hello, Charles."

"Holly," said the man, smiling. "I think she insists on calling you Dr. Stewart for fun."

"Can you blame her?" More than once, the look on people's faces when a doctor was called to see the doctor was hilarious.

"No, not really. Sorry about the running later. I understand if you want to reschedule."

Holly shook her head. "Having been your emergency on more than one occasion, Charles, I'm possibly your most understanding patient. You know that."

"I try not to press my luck. Water?"

"Please." She sat down on her favorite chair in the office. Intellectually, she knew Gail liked the couch. Then again, Gail tended to make herself at home wherever she was. Holly preferred the comfortable chair. It was enough to make her relax (something she'd had a devil of a time with when she'd started therapy) and yet keep her on the ball with things.

As Charles poured them both a glass of water, she looked around the room. It tended to change with the seasons, something Charles said helped with reinforcing the passing of time. Time was an important part of therapy, as Holly had learned.

Charles put the water glass down near Holly. "How was Christmas? Get snowed in?"

She rolled her eyes. "We did. With my mother-in-law and her boyfriend in the house."

"Yikes. Did Vivian get out okay?"

"Oh, she was there too. And yes, with her girlfriend."

Charles grinned. "Glad you haven't downsized the house yet?"

"I told you, I'm holding out for grandchildren." Holly smiled sheepishly. "Is that silly?"

"No," said Charles, sipping his water and jotting something down. "Not at all. Have you told Vivian that?"

"God no." Holly shook her head. "She has enough pressure already. Besides, Leo might have some. Or Sophie. And I can kidnap them." She sighed. "Babies used to terrify me."

"So did marriage, as I recall."

"Well that was because marriage was synonymous with men." She clucked her tongue at herself. "So were babies, I guess. Well that and pregnancy. Bleck."

"Maybe Vivian will follow in your footsteps there."

"Oh, god, don't remind me. She's applying for ETF." Holly winced. "Which … I get why. She's a cop, and she loves playing with mechanical things. It's a great fit. But I just got used to her in uniform."

"Gail … Gail said you were still much calmer than she was about it."

Holly nodded. Gail had said that at their last shared session. They still did those once every few months, just to check in. Vivian showed up for a few after moving out, mostly as a follow up to how they all were after the change, but now she didn't at all. Which was fine.

"I don't think I'm calmer as much as ... It fits into a slot in my brain. I think Vivian will handle Jamie getting hurt better than Jamie handled Vivian... But maybe not. I guess she took Vivian being shot at pretty well. Maybe that's because of her history." Holly paused and frowned. "Did I tell you?"

"A little."

"Right. Anyway. I don't think I'm calmer at all. I can just process it and work with it. I still worry more about Gail though, and that's weird."

"Is it?"

She was tempted to stick her tongue out at Charles. Asshole. "Yes it is. It's not like I think Gail is less capable or anything. And I know it's not that I think one of them dying wouldn't wreck me." Holly drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair, thinking. "I had time to get ready for Vivian. Gail ... I was thrown into her life, with shootings and drama and fighting and danger. I was ... I've always been a little unsettled by Gail. In good ways."

Holly smiled fondly. Gail threw her apple cart into disarray and Holly had to admit that, as a whole, she reveled in it. The blonde was a storm, well and aptly named if the homophone joke was made, and Holly often did. Vivian was very different. She tried hard not to make people's lives disruptive. Vivian wanted, desperately, to be normal and average.

Maybe that was it. Vivian had nothing to prove. Vivian didn't run into danger just to seek something. Vivian didn't act carelessly about her own life.

Unlike Gail, Vivian grew up from six on, knowing she was loved and adored and wanted. A choice had been made to have her in the lives of her parents. She was a part of a family, as weird and broken as she was herself, and they were there for her always.

Holly didn't have to worry about Vivian as much because she wasn't the kind of person one had to worry about. By some miracle, or twist of fate, they'd raised a good, honest, kind, and caring person. Sometimes, yes, Vivian's heart and head tripped over themselves. But mostly she'd taken the lessons from her mothers to heart.

That was a legacy to be proud of, realized Holly, and she smiled more.

* * *

"And hold. And breathe."

Gail closed her eyes and relaxed into the pose. She ignored the sweat running down her back, the sound of other people breathing, and the slight ache in her calves. Just breathe. In and out. In and out. There was a twinge in her shoulder and Gail adjusted her stance, feeling the pressure change and fade slowly into a minor strain on her muscles, but nothing more.

"And arms in, step together. Namaste."

Okay, so the hippie dippy part of yoga made her want to roll her eyes, but Gail returned to the stance, put her hands together, and bowed like everyone else. It was stupid, yes, but it was what it was. The instructor directed them to sit with their spines straight and relax, ending the day with a little meditation.

That had been the hardest thing to get used to at first. Meditation. Relaxing while sitting still. Gail had a devil of a time getting her brain to shut up. Eventually, one of the instructors pulled her aside and said it was clear Gail had been hurt. Of course, given the look of her face after Perik, no shit. Blithely, Gail said she was a cop and was fine. The instructor had given her a droll look and offered to help teach Gail some alternative relaxation methods.

The first was to count. As asinine as it sounded, Gail found that simply trying to count to 100, without letting other thoughts in, was insanely hard. After a few weeks of failure, Gail complained that she just wasn't cut out to relax, and she'd just have to be edgy for the rest of her life.

But that stupid, annoying, probably hitting on her, instructor stuck by Gail for a year, pushing her. It had been a fuck of a lot more helpful than the therapist her mother had picked. And yoga was practically exercise, so Elaine couldn't complain there. Slowly, eventually, Gail had mastered the art of meditation. She learned how to tune out and relax and feel the universe, as trite as it sounded.

It was an astounding feeling of peace. Oh, it never managed to chase away the demons entirely. Gail still slept like shit and worried and doubted and screwed up, but she also felt more like a human. More complete and whole. It helped. When she woke up from a nightmare, sometimes she could coax herself back to sleep just by breathing. Rarely.

Later on, after meeting Celery and coming over at one in the morning to help with a panicked Oliver, Gail had walked through her oldest friend through the breathing lessons. It had calmed him down, enough that he was able to wrap his jangled nerves in a blanket and fall asleep on the couch while Gail watched some stupid documentary about how stupid shit was made.

That had been when she and Holly had been on the 'we're friends saying goodbye' level of a repaired relationship. Gail watched a lot of weird ass documentaries then, trying to keep part of the doofy, nerdy woman with her. Because Holly was leaving for San Francisco, and they couldn't be them at all. Because the love of her life, the one person who got her, was walking away like everyone else.

And, as Oliver snored loudly, Celery came and asked Gail when she'd learned to meditate. Gail had been horribly embarrassed and tried to deflect, but Celery just smiled at her and talked about how she'd tried to teach Oliver and failed. After a moment, Gail explained that he'd have a hard time. The point of meditation was not to think of nothing, but to let the weight of thoughts disappear and to not react to them. But when the thoughts were fear and terror and rooted firmly in fact and burned into memory, it was much harder. Gail had always found it easier to dismiss the problems with her classmates or fellow rookies than it was to put aside the ingrained institutionalizations of her name.

Celery had listened and then asked what had really happened with Holly.

God help her, Gail broke down and told the woman, still mostly a stranger, the whole story. From the bones to the coat room to the Penny, to interrogation, to screwing it up, to realizing she was in love, and to it all being far, far too late to do anything productive about it. Gail was losing the one person she'd ever really loved, and she wasn't going to even have Sophie. Oh, yes, she knew that she was a long shot, but she felt in her bones that it was impossible.

The strange Wiccan ushered Gail to the kitchen, made a cup of mint tea, and told her that the universe sometimes acted like a dick. Sometimes it threw challenges a person didn't want or need, because sometimes the bigger picture meant someone else mattered more. But that didn't mean there wasn't a place for Gail in the universe. It meant the universe knew she could survive the shit.

It was all Gail could do not to cry at the thought. Wise Celery said nothing more about it, nudged Gail into drinking the tea and then asked her to help haul Oliver to bed. Once he was tucked in, still wrapped in the afghan, Celery walked Gail to the guest room and hugged her.

"It will all be alright. I promise."

Gail remembered that moment for years. Especially the day she told Celery that she'd married Holly, and the woman had just smiled and nodded. Like she'd known all along how that would end.

But today, now, in the afternoon, in a hot as balls room surrounded by women who were nowhere near as sexy as her wife, Gail's mind went, blissfully, quiet. All the thoughts about how she'd become good at meditation sped through her brain between one breath and the next and then, like magic, departed. She thought about breathing and counted to one hundred and nothing more.

The voice that told her she was never going to be good enough shut up.

The voice who nagged that she was a failure for stopping at Inspector took a hike.

The voice who promised one day Holly would leave her vanished.

The voice who warned her that she wasn't fit to parent anyone absconded.

The voice who recommended she give it all up was gone.

There was just Gail. And there was just a moment where she could just _be_.

Things made sense now, decades in. She didn't have, nor did she have to have, all the answers. But Gail knew the path. Her feet had taken her on an unexpected journey, but now it was well worn and safe and understood.

Originally, Gail had planned to run away while in Europe. That had been the grand plan she'd come up with while napping off her hangover (alcoholic and emotional) following Nick leaving her at the altar. Steve thought she'd been sleeping, but it had all been a plot. Ask Elaine for five years. One to go to Europe and four to vanish.

The damned thing was Gail didn't do it. She'd had the ticket in hand, ready to trade it in and go to Austria and then beyond... And she didn't. Because after two months of hostels and shitty food and seeing the shit people did to each other, Gail felt like she really didn't belong anywhere. If she wasn't going to belong anywhere, it may as well be a place where she knew the rules of the game.

Being a cop, Gail knew the rules. She tripped and fell and screwed up, but being a cop was safe and easy. That was something she'd never tell Holly, that being a cop was safe. But for Gail it was. It was a steady rock, a reliable one, that she could hold fast and lean on. As much as it might have pained her to admit, Gail's parents served that purpose for her. They made it safe.

And now Gail got to do that for others. She was the reliable rock for her kid and that whole class. Officers and sergeants leaned on her. Everyone looked up to her, to Traci, to Dov, to Andy even. Hell, they looked at Chloe and Nick. And maybe the others understood the responsibility of their positions, but Gail suspected she was the only one who bore the full weight. After all, Andy's dad topped out as a detective. Maybe Chloe...

Okay, Chloe got it. Her mother had backed out of the job as a rook. Just like Gail, Chloe's policing lineage went back generations. They both grew up hearing the true stories. But where Gail had cautionary tales and death, Chloe had the best stories. The glory of policing is what Chloe heard. The tragedy was for Gail.

Pecks, man.

All too soon, the class was over. Gail sighed as the instructor lead them through one final pose, to reinvigorate them, and then dismissed them. She silently wiped off her mat, not engaging with the myriad soccer moms, and instead letting her thoughts come back to the here and now. The voices kept their distance as Gail allowed herself to process the real world.

Today was Holly's therapy session, so Gail should make her dinner. Rarely was Holly in a chatty mood after (fuck, no one really wanted to talk after all that feeling and talking), and she liked to just process. Sometimes her wife wanted to be alone, sometimes not. It was impossible to predict. Gail flipped her watch back to normal mode and saw a message from Holly saying she'd picked up some cookies from Bita's bakery.

She smiled.

Today was clearly going to be a together evening. Probably some good, deep couch sitting together, watching some dramady on the tube. Maybe a documentary.

Those were some of Gail's favorite evenings. Alone, together, not talking, and just being. And Holly? Well, Holly was the only person Gail saw herself being alone together with, and she was glad she'd found Holly.

* * *

Sometimes, even at her own apartment, sleep eluded Vivian. It was frustrating and annoying when it happened. Exhausted from her shift, she'd fallen into bed after a shower and dropped right to sleep, only to wake up not even an hour later. God fucking damn it.

Vivian stared at the ceiling. How the fuck was it still Tuesday? She should have slept for hours and maybe woken up at three or four. Maybe. Then she could at least go to the gym and climb the cliffhanger or the transverse wall. The rope climb.

It was barely eleven PM.

For fuck's sake.

After trying to sleep for a couple more hours, Vivian gave up. She picked up her phone and checked it for messages. Nada. Vivian sighed and texted Jamie.

_You were right._

Because her girlfriend had suggested she go for a run or something after work. Get the last bit of energy out, tire her brain and body, relax, and then she might sleep soundly. Jamie understood Vivian's insomnia quite well, as it turned out. Better than Vivian seemed to know it herself, which was a little tragic when she thought about it. But Jamie's advice had been ignored and Vivian had tried to sleep and it was a total, total, failure.

Her phone vibrated in her hand.

_I want to revel in my rightness, but that feels disrespectful._

_It would be annoying._

Jamie sent a sad faced emoji. Vivian replied with an eyeroll. About ten minutes later, her phone buzzed again.

_How about you unlock the door so I don_ _'_ _t wake up your idiot roommate trying to pop the chain?_

What? Vivian blinked and slipped out of bed, padding down to the door in the dark. She checked the peephole and saw the sheepishly smiling face of her girlfriend. And a new haircut. Sliding the chain off, Vivian opened the door. "You cut off all your hair," she said, stupidly.

What Vivian wanted to ask was why Jamie had shown up at almost midnight. Or maybe how she'd gotten here so fast. Possibly how she always knew what to say. And instead, Vivian winced as the damned 'here's your sign' moment popped out of her mouth and there it was. But Jamie had an adorable, short, totally tomboy haircut.

And Jamie just grinned, walking in and hanging up her coat. "I lost a bet."

"Huh." Vivian closed the door and locked it, trying to sort out how she felt beyond the the general adorableness. "It's like ... Did you go to a barber shop?"

"I did not!" The firefighter bounced on her toes and grabbed Vivian's hand. "Come on. I want to wash off the cut bits."

Feeling slightly stupider than normal, Vivian let Jamie drag her down the hall to her own room. "I feel like I'm starting in the middle of the fourth episode of a series," muttered Vivian.

"I lost a bet about the last call we took, so Jake did this at the station. We were going for beers when you texted, and I thought you'd like it..." Jamie paused and turned, suddenly looking concerned. "It's hair. It'll grow back."

Was this how Holly had felt, looking little dumbfounded when Gail had hacked off all her hair? For Vivian's life, Gail's hair had never passed her chin. The only proof she had that Gail had ever worn her hair long were photographs. Of course, they also showed a Gail with brown hair, black hair, pink hair, and countless shades of blonde and red.

Had Holly boggled at the sudden, unexpected, change? In her retellings of that night, Holly often blushed and gave Gail an embarrassed look. A shy look of remembering a difficult night that had irrevocably changed their lives. A snip of scissors, a drunken choice, and then a kiss that was a promise.

Not that Holly described it like that in Gail's presence. Even at her best, Gail was inclined to make fun of romance. She certainly loved Holly, but she wasn't the most in tune with her feelings. Not in the way one expressed them, at least. Which was why, when faced with romance and caring about people, Vivian went to Holly and asked what it was like. What liking someone was like. What falling in love was like.

Frankly, Vivian still wasn't sure she understood any of it. She had grown up seeing her mothers adoration for each other, the smiles and simple touches, reassuring the other that they were still present, wasn't something that came naturally to Vivian. Of course it wasn't for Gail either. And that worried Vivian when she noticed that, even with Jamie whom she certainly liked a great deal, she was not cuddly.

Then again, Gail had craved the compassion and contact of others. Holly had lived her whole life never knowing the arms-length distance that people could hold you, keeping you away from them and their hearts. And for Gail, Holly was a safe harbor, a place to heal and grow and become the person she'd always meant to be.

What was Vivian? What were she and Jamie? Who was she, who were they, and who would they be?

Chewing her lip, Jamie fell silent and waited. Nervous. Shy. Hopeful.

Just like Holly could be.

Just like Gail could be.

Just like Vivian could be.

Whatever this was, whatever they were, Vivian definitely didn't want it to end any time soon.

Vivian tilted her head and studied Jamie's bangs. "It's short," she remarked, trying not to grin. "Your helmet is gonna slide around."

Self-conscious, Jamie touched the top of her head. "Yeah... I'll wear a bandana or something."

"It's cute," said Vivian in her most deadpan.

Suddenly Jamie exhaled, relieved. "You are such a shit, Vivian."

"Yeah." She shrugged and reached over to run her hands through Jamie's hair. It was a little greasy and bits of hair stuck to her hands. "Ew... Okay, go shower. What the hell did Jake cut your hair with?"

"Dog clippers." Jamie sighed and Vivian kissed her softly. "How the hell are you so good at a poker face?"

"Practice." Grinning, Vivian closed her bedroom door. "Shower."

Jamie rolled her eyes and did as directed. Taking the time to wash the bits of hair off her hands, Vivian dug out the clothes Jamie liked to wear when spending the night. She fished Jamie's wallet, keys, and phone out of the jeans that her girlfriend had dropped on the window seat, almost absently tidying up.

"You know, you don't have to do that."

Not glancing up, Vivian put Jamie's phone on the nightstand to charge. "I know. But you're a slob." She grinned, trying to be dismissive, and then looked over.

"You like me." Jamie smiled, already half into her sleepwear, her hair sticking up all over the place. "The hair is really okay?"

"It's really okay." Vivian climbed into bed and wriggled her feet under the sheets, kicking them out for some freedom. "I kinda get why Mom loves when Gail gets a haircut."

The brunette joined her with a 'huh' sound. "You make your bed with fucking hospital corners."

"I do." Vivian switched off the light and stared at the ceiling. Her body was exhausted. Her brain simply refused to shut up. Jamie kissed her cheek and settled in to bed right away on what had become her side. She could hear Jamie's breathing quickly even out into the dead calming rhythm of sleep. Clearly the firefighter was exhausted.

The easy, natural, comfortable feeling with Jamie aside, Vivian sensed the tendrils of doubt inching their way across. Christian had mentioned it. Vivian hesitated and then rolled to her side to look at Jamie. The other girl slept on her side, curled and compact, as if used to sleeping in a small space. From others, Vivian knew she herself slept protectively wrapped around a pillow, blankets often discarded, feet and legs stuck out.

Which was why she always kicked the foot of her blankets free.

Vivian hesitantly reached over to touch Jamie's shoulder. The firefighter made a soft, pleased, sound. That was promising. She tentatively moved closer, wrapping an arm around Jamie's waist, snuggling close, trying not to be stiff or awkward.

"Wha're you doin?" Jamie's voice was thick and sleepy.

"Um. Cuddling?"

Jamie made a thoughtful noise. Then she asked, "Why?" When Vivian didn't answer right away, Jamie shifted and rolled over to look at her. "Hey, did you have a bad case?" Unspoken was the question of if that was why Vivian couldn't sleep.

Vivian shook her head and scooted back. "No. Well. Kinda weird. Convoluted. Complicated historically."

"Is Fifteen always like that?"

"Sometimes." Vivian sighed. "And ... Some of it's not my story. But... There's this woman, she used to be a CI. Criminal informant."

"I know what they are. I watch crime TV."

Vivian rolled her eyes a little. "Her daughter's been in and out of the system for years. Drugs. Prostitution. That kind of thing. And she's missing right now. And a minor. So we were out looking for her."

Her girlfriend huffed. "Okay." She studied Vivian's face in the dark. "You're not a cuddler, Peck."

With a deep sigh, Vivian shook her head. "I am not."

"So why are you trying?"

Vivian chewed her bottom lip. "Because... Um. Girls like cuddling?"

There was a weighty silence in the room. A little heavy. Vivian winced. Well, there went that relationship, she told herself.

And yet Jamie laughed softly, pressing her face into Vivian's near shoulder. "You are so weird, Viv." But it sounded like a good thing, a good laugh. A healthy laugh. And Jamie took pity on her. "I figured out you weren't the cuddling kinda girl pretty early on."

Scrunching up her face, Vivian mumbled. "Oh." Then she hesitantly ran a hand through Jamie's shorn hair.

Jamie sighed happily. Contentedly. "It's part of your mystique. Quiet. Broody. Not a huge touchy-feely kinda girl."

"I don't really get how those are good qualities," admitted Vivian.

"You do all these little things. Charge my phone. Fold my pants. Cook. Hell, you did my fucking laundry when I had that stupid ten day shit storm." As Jamie went on, Vivian frowned. Of course she'd done those things. That's what a person did for someone they liked. "You memorized my schedule practically right away, and not just so we could have sex. And yeah, I'd like it if you'd remember to call me after weird work shit or being shot at, but... I don't call you after every fire or cat up a tree."

"Do you _really_ get cats out of trees?"

Jamie poked her ribs. "Not the point. You're a pretty awesome girlfriend. And I like that you're not a cuddler."

"Oh." Vivian frowned. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I am not." Jamie's fingers found her face in the dark, caressing Vivian's jawline. "I'm going to kiss you, and I'm going to sleep because I'm dead ass tired."

"Okay, but—"

And Jamie kissed her. It was sweet and soft and calming. "Your brain needs to turn off," she said softly. "Hush."

Vivian closed her eyes and sighed. She knew that. She knew Jamie knew. This time Jamie didn't say anything. She kissed Vivian again, on the cheek, and the bed shifted as Jamie settled back down. Then Jamie reached over and took Vivian's hand, rubbing the muscles and tendons gently.

And then ... Weirdly then Vivian felt her eyelids get heavy. And she yawned. And she fell asleep with Jamie holding her hand.

* * *

The boring part of cases was going over the notes for trial. Sometimes it was awesome and Holly got to be an expert and flaunt her brilliance (yes, flaunt). Most of the time though...

At least doing it was Shay Peck was more entertaining. The firefighter was like Gail Light. Less snarky, less bitchy, and not nearly as dark and morbid. Privately, Holly wondered what would have happened if she'd run into Shay first. Probably nothing. Shay was too happy all the time. A Peck who'd been let loose to be herself by her parents, who grew to be herself.

Shay was practically Gail's age. In some alternate universe, they would have grown up as near sisters, navigating the perils of Peck together. Maybe they would have gone to Europe together for that backpacking trip Gail took after the fiasco with Nick. Maybe there would never have been Nick. Maybe Shay wouldn't have been quite so ostracized by their family for being gay.

That was a story Shay had told Vivian, who had asked why Shay rarely came to the few Peck events that Gail deigned to attend. The innocent child had asked if it was because the Peck was firefighter, and Shay had laughed. It was because Shay had come out as a lesbian at the age of twelve. That was when Shay knew, with unerring certainty, that she was totally gay. And eleven year old Vivian had looked at Holly, perplexed, and pointed out that no one cared about Gail and Holly being gays.

It had taken a while to untangle things and explain that times had changed. Shay helped by pointing out that Gail's father never showed up at the events primarily because Gail was in love with a woman. Vivian had sneered her disapproval of such narrow thinking, declared it stupid, and asked Shay if she knew how to play basketball, because her moms sucked at it.

The simplicity of children.

None of that really mattered. Holly liked the Peck she'd gotten. Seeing Gail grow into someone else while not losing an ounce of herself had been beautiful and wonderful.

Also Gail handled court a hell of a lot better. Holly pressed two fingers to her head. "Shay, you have to give it to them concisely."

Her cousin-in-law threw her hands up. "But you asked a complicated question! You know how many times we had to rebuild that stupid fire starter! And why do I have to explain it if your stupid kid came up with it?"

"You're the expert," said Holly, wearily. "And two bucks in the jar for using 'stupid' twice."

Shay cursed, a little more inventively, and dropped a toonie in the cup. "How much am I out?"

"Total? $33. You really should be more imaginative." Holly smiled. "Captain Peck, can you please explain how this, so called, trigger was invented?"

Flipping Holly off, Shay closed her eyes and recited the information. "Officer Peck came up with the idea of a fire starter created from the parts of Volvos being retrofitted for clean fuel. A trigger."

Four hours later, after she and Shay were prepped by the detectives, the crowne's office, and everyone else in the free world, Holly was starving, almost $50 richer, and wanting a nap. And there was a knock at the door. "Dr. Stewart? There's someone here to see you."

Holly groaned at her administrative assistant. "Ruth, unless someone's dead, I'm busy." Beside her, Shay snorted.

But Ruth cracked the door open and stuck her hand in, holding a box. No. Not Ruth's hand. She knew that pale, pale, hand. "Shay, did she eat?"

"Nope." Shay popped the P just like Gail did.

With a grin, Gail poked her head around. "I come bearing lunch for both of you. Thanks, Ruth."

Shay stood up. "I'll take mine to go. No offense, Doc, but my head hurts." Taking her lunch and her coat as she passed by Gail, Shay said something quietly in French as she ducked out.

As the door closed, Holly frowned. "Shay speaks French?"

"She's the second smartest Peck," said Gail, dismissively. "Third, after Viv." Gail tilted her head and studied Holly curiously. "Thank you."

Holly blinked. "Me? What on earth for?"

"Shay's shit at court. She said she feels okay about this one." Gail put the food down and opened it up, letting the smell of fresh cooked lamb fill the room. Fresh vegetables. Greens. A balanced brain meal.

The growl from Holly's stomach made her blush. "Oh well." She reached over and took a piece of meat and popped it in her mouth.

"Don't dismiss it, Holly. You're pretty awesome."

"I'm pretty cranky. I just want to go up, tell them the answers, and off to the Penny for celebratory drinks. The prep work is boring."

Gail sighed. "God I know. And it's a mess on my side too." Startling slightly, Gail lifted her wrist to read her watch. "And it's still a mess."

"I take it this isn't a meal with me?"

"Mm. No, this is me making sure the smartest woman in the province has been fed." Gail leaned over the arm of the couch and kissed Holly's cheek. "I've got to talk to Swarek."

Holly sighed. "Lucky you. Can I get a real kiss?"

Gail's eyes brightened and she obliged, her lips lingering long enough to warm Holly to her toes. "Better?"

"I'm not cranky anymore." Holly smiled up at Gail. "Go solve crime."

"If only. It's the ETF shuffling. TwentySeven wants to be the call center, and Sam's making a pitch that the Safary bombings happen more in his territory." Gail rolled her eyes and plucked a piece of lamb from the carton. "Fucked up."

"Safary. I thought he left." Holly had worked a handful of the mad bomber's cases over the years. He wasn't inventive, though most bombers tended to use their tried and true methods for rather obvious reasons. Don't fuck around with bombs.

"Eh. He comes and goes. Remember the bomb at the zoo a couple years ago?" When Holly nodded, Gail went on. "That was him. No tagging, but he doesn't when it's a demo bomb."

"A bomber who does proof of concept." He was incredibly precise and reliable. How annoying.

Gail nodded. "The Mounties figured he was using Toronto to test out new plans. The actual bomb that matched that one was in Mississauga though. Close enough."

Holly sighed. "Well. Anything good? Like have you found Sadie's daughter?"

"Nope." Gail got up and stretched. "It's weird that I'm not freaking out about this?"

Because two years ago, Gail had freaked out about Vivian who wasn't missing at all. And here was a girl who was missing. "I think Vivian wore out your worry parts."

The blonde looked thoughtful. "Don't that beat all. Okay. Try to do something sciencey this afternoon. You'll feel better."

"Go solve a crime, honey." She watched Gail head back out and sighed. So many reasons to adore her wife, and right now Holly was enamored of the fact that Gail had brought her lunch.

It really was the little things like that what made her day. She smiled and tucked into her lunch, enjoying the hell out of the good food. Was this the secret to longevity? A long life and happiness from someone who did the small things. The secret of life. Or a healthy relationship. The proof of a life well lived.

Absently, Holly looked at her desk and smiled at the photos of her family. She'd put a new one up, of adult Vivian at Gail's fiftieth birthday with her arms around Gail and Holly, mugging it for the camera. That had to be the right answer. The surest sign of a good life was the mark a person left on the universe. Holly's was there, in Vivian, but also in the hundreds of cases she'd closed over the years.

Of course... There was that one. Holly glanced at the bookshelf, where she had a whole row given up to the unsolved. A poisoning, a stabbing, and of course that stupid head bashing case. Holly sighed and put the fork down.

That case. It haunted her, and not in the sexy/cool artistic way. That case never woke her up in the middle on the night and it didn't linger like the painful memories in Gail's past seemed to. But still. It bugged the hell out of her.

Holly shook her head and slumped on her couch. Her lack of empathy had contributed to her choice in medical careers. Not that Holly didn't care about people. She did. She just didn't seem to have it in her to empathize with people who did stupid things. Her ER rotation had been a blast.

In a way, that was why she loved Gail so much. There was a woman who hated people and yet cared about them so much she continued to give her life for them. For people who often hated her too. The dichotomy of it all confused so many people, but for Holly it made sense. She cared. And she gave. And she did it entirely on her own terms. Holly loved her for that. For just the magical ability to be Gail amidst every single storm and remain herself while changing and growing.

Growing.

Changing.

Holly sat bolt upright.

"What if there's more than one active at a time?" She jumped to her feet and skidded around her desk, bumping her hip as she caromed off the side. "Holy shit. That could explain why we can't find a solid fucking time line."

Firing up her computer, Holly re-ran the dates for the attacks, the deaths, and their presumed weapons. The timeline for head bashings just got a whole lot messier.

* * *

The nights Holly locked herself in their office to think were much odder now that Vivian had moved out. Before, Gail had been able to distract herself from wanting to distract her wife by being a mom. And she didn't want to distract Holly, she just wanted to know what her wife was doing and thinking and why. The problem with that was it drove Holly up the wall.

So when Gail came home and found the office door closed, she suspected her wife was deep in the middle of something. Instead of bothering her, Gail locked her gun and badge away in the smaller safe in the bedroom and went downstairs. She was perfectly capable of entertaining herself for a night, even three when the situation called for it.

Tonight wasn't one of the nights Gail really wanted to be alone.

She hadn't been taking the Maisie situation personally all day. Sadie had never been one of Gail's CIs, and in fact she'd barely spoken to the woman. The fact that Sadie had been one of Jerry's CI, and had run into trouble while Gail was still in the hospital, had just been what it was. She never dwelled on it.

As she packed up and headed for the day, Gail had run into her own kid up on the third floor, talking seriously with Trujillo about the court case for the arson. It struck Gail in that moment by the realization that her kid was who she was because of her.

And it was stupid. Of course Vivian was formed by Gail's influence. That was practically the definition of parenting. But then and there she was held tight by a bit more memory than she'd expected. Had Maisie followed Sadie's less than reputable footsteps? Was Sadie's constant slipping in sobriety due to the removal of Jerry's influence? And was that Gail's fault? Instead of talking to her daughter, though, Gail had half smiled and left the young cop to do her job. Her plan had been to talk to Holly when she got home, but that was decidedly disrupted by her wife's dedication.

Not that she'd blame Holly for that. Hell, Gail loved Holly for her devotion and obsession to her work. That keen mind and sharp wit that never stopped putting puzzles together was beautiful. Even when that puzzle was named Gail Peck, Holly cared a great deal and put her back together again every time she broke.

Her watch vibrated, startling her out of her thoughts.

_I need a drink without spouses._

The text was from her sister-in-law and best friend. Gail smiled sadly. Of course Traci was also thinking about Jerry today.

_Holly's locked in the office._

_Perfect. I'll meet you at the Oyster._

Gail left a note for Holly, and a reminder to eat, and went out to the Oyster Bar. Which never served oysters. Or fish for that matter. It was a quiet bar, one the detectives frequented now and then, but it wasn't a cop bar. It was a grown up spy bar, or at least that's how Gail thought of it. No one who wasn't some kind of non-uniformed investigator was amongst the regulars. Arson, drugs, Mounties, the random FBI and CIA agent... It was a safe bar. No unis allowed. No wives either.

Seated at a booth was Traci, halfway through a glass of red wine and with a plate of fries and mini burgers waiting. "Trace, if we weren't married to awesome people, I'd marry you right now." Gail dropped into the other side of the booth and inhaled half of a burger. "So good," she mumbled around the food.

"Holly's still got you eating super healthy?"

Gail rolled her eyes and swallowed the rest of her food. "Mom's second heart attack hasn't helped. Doesn't matter my cholesterol is fucking awesome."

Traci smiled. "Elaine scared the hell out of Steve. He's still running every morning. You know he's in better shape then when he was a cop?"

"Not like it takes much."

"The both of you are so incredibly immature and lazy." Traci laughed and bit into her burger more demurely.

"School of Peck. We rebel how we can." Gail inhaled a second burger and sighed happily. She rarely got the chance to eat greasy bar food in peace.

Her friend rolled her eyes but they ate and sipped decent red wine in silence. Finally they made it through the plate and Traci huffed. "You're not going to ask."

Gail shook her head. "Do I need to?"

Traci shook her head, though not the same way as Gail had. "Andy mentioned it."

"She would." Gail sighed. All this time and Andy still had blind spots when thinking about death. Then again, no one that close to Andy had ever died, had they? Not a fiancé for sure. The closest she came to death was Nick dry firing a gun. "I was there when the case came in."

"Keep me off it on purpose?"

"We don't do missing persons, Trace." Gail picked up a fry and gestured with it. "I should have told her to shut up."

The other detective looked down at her glass of wine. "It still hurts, thinking about it."

People always thought that Gail was the cold fish who kept herself bottled up. But really, Gail wore her heart on her sleeve and it was Traci who blockaded hers from everyone. When Jerry died, Traci had only one friend to lean on. One friend who turned out to be able to push past her own pain and be a friend.

Okay, so Gail was trying to avoid dealing with her own issues, but still. That one afternoon had forged a friendship between them that would probably withstand everything. They didn't have to talk. They knew the agony.

"What Sadie did isn't our fault," Gail said quietly.

Traci blinked. "Huh. I wasn't..." She stopped and looked thoughtful. "It is, though." Before Gail could deny it, Traci pointed out a sad truth. "I barely got out bed for days, Gail. I left Jerry's briefcase in my car—"

"No. _Jerry_ left his briefcase in _your_ car."

Because Jerry was the one who couldn't figure out the fucking iPhone. And Jerry was the one who didn't radio in an address. And Jerry was the one who would have done it for anyone, any officer, walking into the unknown without backup on a hunch.

Because that's exactly who and what Jerry was. He would give up everyone and everything to save a friend.

Traci exhaled and nodded. "I know."

"I know," mimicked Gail. "That's my song and dance, Trace. Stop stealing my moves."

Her friend's lips quirked up into a sad smile. "Sorry."

"Good." Gail chomped down a fry. "I miss him, too."

"I just keep thinking, you know? If Jerry was alive, Sadie wouldn't have gone back to dealing. And maybe Maisie..."

Gail shook her head. "I can't believe this, but I got you beat here."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Cause my kid followed me."

Confused, Traci stared at Gail for a while. "Oh," she said, surprised. That was one of the best things about Traci. Gail didn't have to spell it all out. "God, I'm glad Leo went into computers."

"Wish Viv had," said Gail in a quiet admission. "But. Our kids do what we do. They see us, they learn from us."

Traci snorted. "Dex is useless, Captain of the Universe is ..." She trailed off and looked shocked. "Oh my god. Steve is good with computers."

"I think," Gail said slowly. "If he hadn't been a cop, he'd do something like Leo." Growing up, Steve had been a computer nerd. Not the kind who locked himself up and pretended to be a goblin queen. No, Steve loved screwing around with videos and security systems. It was enough like Peck business that their parents had allowed it.

"Makes sense why he likes his new job."

Gail winced. "Good." Her heart wasn't in the word.

Of course Traci noticed. "You miss him a lot."

"My whole life, Trace. He had my back. Every day. Every step of the way..." She sipped her wine. "After..." Gail waved a hand to indicate Jerry and Perik. "After, I used to go sleep on his couch instead of at home. I'd go out with Nick, and then be terrified of sleeping at his place."

Traci reached over and touched Gail's hand. "Gail."

"I know. This is about him, Trace, and I'm fine with it. Just ... Did you realize I'm the oldest Peck on the force now?"

She watched the wheels turn in Traci's head before shock settled across her friend's face. With a 'cheers' motion, Gail lifted her drink. Traci winced, and said, "Shit... I better retire before you."

Gail nearly snorted her wine out her nose.

* * *

"How does a junkie get a job at an antique shop?"

"It's an auctioneer's." Vivian blew on her hands, replying to Rich out of rote, as opposed to actually thinking about what he said. That was the best way to deal with Rich, she'd learned. And of all the rookies, she probably got along with him the best. How terrifying.

Rich leaned on the counter. "What's the difference?"

Looking at her partner thoughtfully, Vivian registered that he was asking sincerely. "Well. An antique shop doesn't haggle for one. They just sell old shit. An auction house is where people bid on weird stuff that may or may not be old." She tilted her head. "Why don't you ever just google this stuff?"

"It's easier asking you." He shrugged. "You're pretty smart, Princess."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Asshole."

"What? You're like having a search engine that doesn't need a good signal. You know bits of everything." He nodded, as if sure he was complimenting her. "Bet you're a demon at Trivial Pursuit."

She was. But that was Dov's fault. He loved those stupid games, and she remembered many nights with him and Chloe playing trivia. He'd often double her babysitting fee if she could beat him.

Thankfully she was spared having to divulge that as the owner came up. "Officers. Sorry about that. Maisie isn't here today. Which ..." He paused and frowned. "Is this about her being underage? Look, I know it's technically illegal, but I never let her work a full week."

Vivian and Rich shared a glance. He nodded at her. "You knew she was underage?"

"Yeah." The owner winced. "Look, have you met her mom?"

"Can't say as I have," said Vivian calmly.

"Sadie's a piece of work." He shook his head. "That kid has been in and out of trouble since I met her, trying to nick some jewelry. I told her she could work here if she stayed clean."

That part, Vivian knew. She'd checked Maisie's record. "Awfully nice of you. Hiring her off the record."

It had taken them two days to even figure out that Maisie had a job. They'd only twigged on to it when they tossed her room and found the money and card. Frankly, Vivian had guessed Maisie was stealing from them, or worse. This was positively mundane.

The owner shrugged. "My old man ... Well." He shook his head. "Maisie's a good kid."

"She's missing," said Vivian softly. The man's eyes lit up, worried. "Underage kid, secret job, drugs... You see where we're worried." And she waited.

He nodded, almost dumbly. Then he panicked. "Wait a second! You don't think that I...? Oh hell no, come on. I'm not into kids like that!"

While people joked that those who protested too much were guilty, this was often not the case. There was a look people got, one Elaine had drilled into Vivian from long before the time she'd publicly announced her intentions to be a cop and a Peck. The look of liars, the look of the scared, the abused, the venal, the entitled.

This was a scared, innocent, man.

Vivian exhaled and nodded at Rich. Her partner looked suspicious, but nodded back. After the idiocy almost two years ago, Rich always deferred to her in the field. "Do you work with her a lot?"

"Cora works with her more. She's my assistant manager."

"Can... We'd like to speak to her, then." Recently, Gail had gotten on her case about asking suspects things. Don't ask to see things, tell them things. Tell, don't ask. Though every time Gail said that, Holly would snicker. They were old enough to remember "don't ask, don't tell" whereas she was not.

The owner nodded and brought them to the back, where Cora was as useful as a fart in a storm. Her go-to answer was "I don't know" with a dash of "Gosh!" Eventually the owner left them alone to try and help her remember anything that might possibly be relevant, but so far it was useless.

As she landed on Vivian's last nerve, Rich spoke up. "How long have you been using?"

Vivian's head snapped around. What the what?

But Cora turned bright red.

Well damn.

Cora twitched in her seat. "It's not what you think."

"We know Maisie uses," Rich said calmly. "She's been in and out for years. She your supplier?" Silent, Cora nodded. "When's your next drop off?"

In a small voice, Cora replied, "This afternoon."

Rich nodded. "We'll be here."

It was definitely a reversal of their roles, and it worked. Vivian left Rich to watch Cora while she called the detectives to explain the situation. The agreed to let the two low-key stay on site to pick up Maisie for dealing, as having backup might scare her off. In order to keep a low profile, they hid in the office with Cora and waited.

"Remind me again why I thought this life was glamorous?" Rich handed over the sandwiches he'd picked up. Since Vivian had to escort Cora to the bathroom, he had to do food runs.

"Television and movies. Same as Lara." Vivian checked her turkey club sandwich and removed the tomatoes.

Rich grunted and sat down. "You allergic?"

"Nah. Just not a fan." Glancing at Cora, who picked at her chips, Vivian smiled.

Her partner pushed the sandwich closer to Cora and spoke. "You should eat. You'll feel better."

Cora eyed him. "Really?"

"You're not high now. You can't be shaking yet. Get some food in you."

Later, Vivian was going to have to ask Rich why he knew so much about drug users. It was like Gerald. The man had unexpected depths.

Vivian was distracted from that thought by Cora's phone buzzing. "I got it," said Vivian softly. She picked up the phone and read the text. "Bat time?"

The junkie manager nodded. "She means same Bat time, um. It's an old show—"

"Batman, the 1960s show. Yeah I know." Vivian gestured to the phone. "What's the reply?"

Cora sighed. "Roger Robin." When Vivian waited, she frowned. "Lower case roger. I use the red bird emoji. Then I delete it. Happy?"

"Thank you." Vivian tapped the reply and put the phone in her pocket, on silent. She wondered why they didn't use burners, but criminals were, apparently, stupid. "What time is bat time?"

"Half past. I meet her by the loading docks. This is when the trucks are all out, see... We have the schedule." Cora pointed at a piece of paper.

Vivian took a photo and sent it to the detectives, not terribly sure it mattered, but impressed nonetheless. "Finish up your sandwich, Richie."

"I'll save half for later."

"Where? In your pocket?" And her horror, she watched Rich put the half of his sandwich, wrapped, in a thigh pocket. "You will never get the smell out."

"It's just turkey club." Rich smirked and Vivian rolled her eyes. "She's right, Cora. You should try to finish."

Cora shook her head. "I'll puke. How can you two joke?"

Shrugging, Vivian swallowed the last of her lunch. "We do this a lot."

"Arrest people and make them turn in their friends?"

Vivian glanced at Rich. "Arrest? Did we?"

"I didn't. What would we arrest her for?"

The assistant manager looked lost. "For ... Buying drugs?"

"Hearsay," said Vivian, firmly. "Inverse bravado."

Rich nodded. "I mean, you don't have anything on you. And we're just dropping you off at rehab later, right?"

In silent, Cora looked from Rich to Vivian and back again. Finally she spoke. "Oh." Her voice was soft and low. "We should... Go."

They walked out to the back docks, Rich and Vivian lingering a bit behind. It wasn't like they were looking for a hardened criminal, after all. And, as expected, Maisie barely checked the area before coming out to talk to Cora.

The moment she did, Rich and Vivian stepped out. "Hey, Maisie," said Rich.

"Shit!" Maisie turned to run, only to find herself facing a grinning Vivian.

Finally, she'd managed to pull off a Gail move! "Don't run. There's no point." But Maisie started to move. "For crying out loud," said Vivian, under her breath. "Maisie, come on." She grabbed Maisie's arm, holding it in a vise grip.

"I'm not goin' to jail!"

Rich rolled his eyes. "You know, I'd be more upset that your mom's gonna kick your ass."

"You called my mom!"

The hilarity of it would entertain the division later. Vivian shook her head. "Your mom called us. Give me the drugs, Maisie. We'll go the Division, you go to rehab, everything's fine."

They could get away with that. They'd cut Maisie off before she'd said anything about selling the drugs, which meant they didn't have to arrest her. Evidence of carrying was one thing. Selling was different (and worse).

Maisie kept arguing though, as Vivian tried to steer her towards their car. She barely listened to the delinquent. Instead she was distracted by a smell. And that wasn't the sort of thing she'd tell Rich, who would tease her like hell for it. Still, there was a funny smell. Vivian frown and sniffed the air. She couldn't quite place it. Gail had teased her about being a super sniffer kind of person, which she wasn't, but she could smell 'something' that was tickling a memory. Scent memory. Burning. Metal.

Shit!

The smells clicked.

Vivian grabbed Maisie, drugs spilling out of her purse onto the ground, and dragged her away from the building. "Rich! Call in 10-45! And get the fuck out of there!"

Her partner stared at her, dumbfounded, and then moved. God bless him. "Dispatch, 4765. 10-45, repeat 10-45!"

They each shoved the drug addled woman, Vivian holding Maisie's arm firmly while Rich grabbed Cora. They had just cleared the loading dock when the explosion stunned them all, sending the quartet to the asphalt.

* * *

Destruction. Wanton destruction.

The building had come down in chunks and pieces and flakes and broken antiques. Well. Antique was clearly in the eye of the beholder, she realized, stepping around a case of hitherto unopened ... Was that Canada Dry? Oh it was the original bottles, too. Who the hell saved that?

"Man that is a lot of loose investments," muttered Ben.

"Makes me glad I invested in a house," said Holly. She looked around, taking in the measure of things.

Ben huffed. "Is it true your wife blew up a car once?"

That memory, for some reason, didn't haunt her as much as it should. "True. Most stories involving Gail tend to be." She frowned to herself. Why did that not bother her any more? At the time, she'd been so overwhelmed it had taken weeks to break down about it. Now it was just a story that ended with an eyeroll and a smile.

"Sorry," said Ben, maybe sensing a misstep. "I shouldn't... I mean, that's your wife."

"Oh, and that was my kid." She pointed back to where Vivian sat by the ambulance, quite alive. "You get used to it, I guess." Holly shook her head and walked over to the ETF group. "Hello, Sue. Are we clear?"

Lt. Sue Tran was dressed in her normal gear, no extra padding or protection. A good sign. "Hey, Holly. Almost. I want to be safe enough that I'm not fearing the wrath of Peck." She paused. "Your kid was not my fault."

Waving her hand, Holly dismissed her friend's concern. "If anything she's my fault. I'm the one who insisted we became foster parents." That was an old joke at home, often whipped out by Gail when Vivian was being particularly stubborn. Usually related to showers. "How much longer?"

"Couple minutes." Sue grinned.

"Alright... Ben, stay here and watch our kits."

Her field tech nodded, confused, and Holly walked back towards the ambulances. There sat her kid, dusty and relatively unharmed, talking on the phone to someone. Holly arched an eyebrow as she came up, catching Vivian's eye. "Oh, hang on a sec?" Vivian tapped her phone and then spoke directly to Holly. "Hey, I'm fine. Should I call...?"

"I think she'd appreciate it." Holly paused. "Wait, who are you on the phone with?"

Vivian stared at her phone for a moment. "Jamie?"

Not terribly long ago, Gail had wondered aloud as to when it might be that Vivian called someone else first. What a strange feeling to have that become a reality. Well. At least Vivian had learned from being shot at. "Then yes, please tell your mother that you're alright."

Sheepish, Vivian nodded. "I will, but I'll be right over as soon as Mac takes Maisie in."

"Oh! You found her?"

"Yeah, saved her... Can you wait a second?" When Holly nodded, Vivian tapped on her phone. "Hey, sorry. Dr. Stewart is here... What? Well I'm at work!"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Honestly, just tell her it's me." As Vivian ignored her, Holly texted Gail, informing her their child was fine. Right away, Gail replied that Sue had told her already. Holly smiled and told Gail that Vivian was talking to Jamie. That got a thumbs up from Gail, but that was all. The detective was probably neck deep in drama already.

Vivian snorted. "Yeah, well, just for future reference, your boss is Lt. Peck, not cousin Shay when we're in the job. I'll call you later? ... Uh huh, as long as I'm not stuck here all day. Okay, bye." Her daughter hung up and tucked her phone away. Holly cleared her throat. "Oh. Sorry." The phone came back out and Vivian tapped in a message.

"Really? You're not calling her?"

"No, she already knows. I mean, Trujillo's over there already."

She was? Holly looked over and saw Lucinda Trujillo, one of Gail's relatively new young favorites, talking to ... Oh. "Ah. Abercrombie has two ladies over there."

Without looking up, Vivian explained. "The twitchy, skinny blonde in handcuffs is Maisie. The short brunette is Cora, her ... Associate. Rich is trying to get Cora into rehab."

"Dare I ask why Maisie is in handcuffs?"

"Same reason I'm over here." Vivian held a hand up, lightly bandaged. "She bit me. Mac gave me a tetanus shot." Holly smothered a laugh, causing her daughter to look indignant.

She was spared having to apologize by Rich coming up. "Hey, Peck. Mac wants both of 'em to go to the hospital. Oh... Dr. Stewart." Rich straightened up and tried to look taller. He was barely an inch over Vivian. It was hilarious.

"Officer Hanford. Are your, er, arrestables alright?"

Vivian wrinkled her nose. "Cora too?"

"Yeah, the DT shakes are gonna kick in soon. Trujillo wants one of us to ride back with the them." Rich glanced over at ETF and smirked. "I'm not into bombs."

"And Lt. Tran is married."

"Yeah, but Trujillo isn't." Rich made finger guns at Vivian and walked back to the ambulances.

Holly couldn't help it. She laughed. "Oh my god, I'm having a college flashback. Lisa used to do that."

Her child startled. "Aunt Lisa used to do finger guns?"

"The '90s were a dark time, honey. How are you getting back?"

Vivian pulled the keys from her belt. "You don't think I let Rich drive?"

Actually Holly had always wondered how cops decided who would drive and who wouldn't. She had long assumed Gail intimidated most of them, or was too lazy to care. Probably both. "You beat Gail's score on the closed course," said Holly, thoughtfully and she started walking back to the others.

Grinning ear to ear, Vivian fell into step with her. It was not unnoticed by Holly that Vivian altered the length of her stride to match Holly's, even though she had a couple extra inches. Vivian had always been quietly considerate like that. Like Holly. "I did. I did beat Mom's score." With a grin that was pure Gail, Vivian added. "It's still the top score. Mom tried to beat it last summer."

That was news to Holly. The part that Gail had tried again, at least, was news. "I'm not surprised. You have better reflexes." The rookie looked like she was on cloud nine from the compliment.

Sue did not look surprised to see them as they walked up. "Peck and Stewart ride again."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Be glad you're not suffering through a triple Peck." Sue looked suitably scared. "Building clear yet?"

Recovering nicely, the ETF head nodded. "Yes, building is solid as a rock. The damage was mostly to the crates on the dock and ... Well you've got to see this." Sue led them over to the docks. It was worse there.

Ben looked back. "How the hell did stuff get blown out all the way to the front?"

"Shockwaves. The blast was a sculpted one. Shaped to take out two directions." As she spoke, Sue gestured with her hands. "First, the primary direction would be here, on the loading dock. It blew down two crates, shattering and ..." Sue pointed down. "Well. Revealing."

Looking down, Holly startled and stared. "Are you kidding me?" The dock was covered in drugs. Baggies and baggies of drugs.

"The pills over there are from Maisie. The baggies though... High end stuff." Vivian had her hands on her belt, looking exceptionally nonplussed.

Ben swore. "I'm calling for backup."

"Good idea..." Holly shook her head. But Sue was still grinning. And Holly knew her way too well to let that slide. "Okay, Tran. What's the punchline?"

Sue pointed at one half blasted crate. "See for yourself."

Trusting the scene was clear (neither Sue nor Vivian were dumb enough to incur the wrath of Peck), Holly slipped on shoe covers and stepped around the drugs to the last crate. "Huh," she said softly, seeing the body within. "Why is a crash test dummy inside a packing crate with a shitty footstool?"

In the tone of absent correction, learned from Gail, Vivian spoke up. "It's early American. 19th century. Averages $1000 each right now. Not super expensive, and kinda popular." When Holly shot her a glare, Vivian shrugged. "I googled it."

"Show off." Ben grinned and tossed Vivian some booties. "You guys contaminate our scenes?"

"No, the drugs we spilled before the bomb." Vivian gestured. "I was trying to get Maisie off the docks." Sue looked thoughtful and gestured for Vivian to continue. "I smelled the bomb, we called in the 10-45, we got over by the dumpster. That was when Maisie bit me. She was trying to make a break for it."

"Smelled?" Ben frowned. "You smelled the bomb?"

Vivian nodded. "Not the explosives... The way you make a bomb, y'know, it has a unique scent. The oils have to be different so you don't accidentally trigger it. You can't not use some, since sparks are bad, and so is heat, so they smell real unique."

There was a long, thoughtful, look from Ben. "Shit. Can you tell the components here?" He pulled out a device called the Cyranose 200 and waved it at her. "Tran, I'm borrowing her."

"She's not mine, she's Trujillo's." Sue smiled. "Where is our detective?"

Vivian jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Trujillo's with the owner and the staff. She wanted one of us to follow the bombs." She paused. "Would it help the case?"

Shaking her head, Holly pulled on her gloves. "No, but Ben may try and kidnap you later for sniff tests." She poked at the dummy, trying to figure out why the hell it might be there in the first place. It didn't look like it was packed the same way as the bomb. The material didn't match at all.

While she poked and prodded at the evidence, she heard Vivian speak. "Lieutenant, are you sure the charge was shaped?"

"Got a better explanation for the blow through?" When Vivian didn't answer right away, Sue went on. "Charge was set for minimum loss of life."

"A considerate bomber," said Ben quietly as he took photos. "I'm glad motive isn't my job."

Vivian scratched out notes onto her logbook. "How long until we know what kind of bomb it was?"

Picking up a bit of shrapnel, Holly shrugged. "The wood muffled things, causing more internal damage. But I think you're right, Sue. The bomb was for show. It was meant to bring attention rather than kill." Holly glanced up and saw Vivian pressing her lips tightly together. She had a thought and was trying valiantly to keep it to herself. It reminded Holly of what she'd do when faced with similar circumstances.

"Wonder what the show is." Ben looked thoughtful.

"Well that's for Trujillo," said Sue, firmly. "Scene is clear, when you have it all in the lab, I'll come by and help you nitpick if you need it. You stay here, Rookie, report to Trujillo."

As Sue left, Vivian scratched the back of her head, scowling just like Gail did when frustrated. "Don't let it get you down," said Holly, smiling.

"It's not that... Something about the bomb feels funny. Off. Like ... Like I should know it."

Holly shook her head. "Honey. This is just the first day of the rest of your life. Don't rush it."

With a deep sigh, Vivian nodded.

* * *

It had taken years of practice, but Gail could throw a pen over her shoulder and hit the same spot on the photo of her mother that hung on the wall. In her defense, Elaine hated that photo and suggested the game one afternoon, working in Gail's office Gail on an old case.

Rarely did Gail work on cold cases, but that one had been an unsolved murder her mother had picked up in her detective days. Gail had stumbled onto it when the murder weapon was found in a home remodel, stashed in the wall behind the insulation. They called in the original detective and, for the only time in their lives, mother and daughter worked on a case together. And solved it.

Still, Elaine had been horrified to see the picture, and one of Bill, hanging on the wall. When Gail had gone to get lunch, she'd come back to find goofy glasses drawn on both her parent's pictures, and blacked out teeth. After she stopped laughing, she asked Elaine what she was supposed to do now, and Elaine suggested target practice.

And so it was.

Not that Gail did it often, but when she tried to understand some cases and they eluded her, well, target practice was it.

"Nice shot, boss," said Trujillo, hesitantly.

"Practice." She stood up and pulled the pen out from Paper Elaine's eye. "Run it again. Start with the drugs."

There was a pause and the sound of someone tapping on a tablet. "The drugs have been traced back to a case Swarek's running. Looks like they're the missing shipments, which he's followed up the chain to the shipping company. They were clean before, so he thinks they were lying."

Gail nodded. "Let him chew that bone." Sam was good at that sort of thing. No point in impeding him. "And the crash test dummy?"

"Dr. Stewart found shock patches on it. Her current theory... Um ... " Trujillo stopped.

"Yes?"

"It's just... I mean. She didn't tell you?"

Gail shook her head. "Haven't talked to her today." Not about the case, at least. They'd chatted about their daughter and her birthday presents and her girlfriend. Holly hadn't felt the need to unpack her head. "Also this is me wanting to see how _you_ think, Lucinda Maria. Diga me, por favor."

Her young detective nodded. Lucinda Maria Trujillo was barely older than Gail had been when she'd earned her gold badge but, unlike Gail, Lucinda was a little more nervous around a boss. "Okay. So ... Right. Dr. Stewart's theory was that someone was testing either what happens when you ship a person or what happens when you blow them up. And she said, ah, the _how_ is her business. Why is mine."

That was Holly, alright. She rarely cared why people committed crimes, and in fact was happier not knowing motives. "Okay. So given those two possibilities, what do you think?"

"Human smuggling versus bomb testing?" Trujillo frowned. "I think it's a trifecta."

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Go on."

"The drugs we know are related to Swarek's case. The trace on the dummy isn't back yet, but I think once we exclude everything local, all we'll find is the bomb, and that's a red herring." Trujillo sucked her lower lip. "I think the owner was doing a dry run."

"You think the bomb was unrelated?"

"To the dummy. But it's something Peck said. She said..." Trujillo tapped on her tablet. "The way the charge blew, it was aimed at the shipping. Lt. Tran thought it was shaped, but Peck said it she thought it was aimed somewhere else. If they'd wanted to blow the box with the dummy, to see how much damage you could do to a dummy, then you'd want it closer."

It was a sound theory. "So Peck thinks the bomb was meant to ..."

"Reveal the dummy? It really depends on what the trace says."

"Well." Gail sighed. "So what's the point of the dummy?"

Lucinda Trujillo exhaled. "Larry Smith. All his staff are young. Like 20s. They're all college dropouts. Half are on drugs. Low key shit. And he's from Eastern Europe."

"With a name like Smith?"

"Name used to be Saar. Estonian." Trujillo smiled. "And they're having a revolution."

Interesting theory. Gail leaned back in her chair. "Where was the dummy shipped from?"

"Georgia. The country."

"Similar... Okay. You hunt that down. Give Simmons all the information on the bomb." When Trujillo looked disappointed, Gail smirked. "He's got a lot more info on bombs, Lucinda. You figure out what they were shipping, he'll help you queue up why it got blown. If the bomber was going after Smith at all. If they were going after the drugs, John's right for cross divisions. Go. Write it up, gnaw that bone down."

It didn't seem to excite Trujillo much. "Yes, ma'am."

Ah. Children. Gail didn't take Lucinda's despondency too seriously. She was probably on the best part of the case anyway. The owner was definitely shady.

Gail shook her head and opened her email again, checking into see what new information had popped in. There was a background check on the owner, complete with financials, so she read that first.

After two pages, Gail was sure he was hiding something. She pulled up the complete financials and started to follow the money. It was always smart to follow the money. The dreaded accounting class her parents had made her take was finally paying off. Maybe she'd tell Elaine about it. Gail sighed and put her glasses on, taking her time and jotting down notes.

Not that Gail didn't trust Trujillo to sort out the case, the financial forensics weren't her forte yet. Hell, they weren't even in her skill set basket. No, the reason Gail grabbed Trujillo right away, snatching her out of uniform the second she passed the basic tests, was because Lucinda had John's 'people' knack. The woman could pick up on vibes like nobody.

Of course, Trujillo had few vibes herself. She was practically opaque. Holly had mentioned that her senior tech, Ananda, had a crush on Lucinda. And Gail was unable to tell Holly if there was a chance. Not that Gail had much of a gaydar so to speak. Neither did her kid. Probably that was related to their issues connecting with people.

Which had nothing to do with her case.

Why was the owner shuffling money like that?

Gail scowled and carefully followed the bank transfers until she lost them through an Internet proxy based out of the Caymans. "How common," said Gail, sighing. She let her glasses slip to the end of her nose and got up. "Hey, Trujillo."

Her young star looked up, confused. "Ma'am?"

"He's smuggling money. Shunting it to the Caymans. Come here and I'll show you—" Gail was cut off by her desk phone ringing. Glancing down, she saw her wife's name. "Damn. John, can you walk her through...?"

Her erstwhile sergeant smiled. "Sure thing. Come on, Lucinda. The money stuff is weird but fun." Gail missed Lucinda's reply as she closed the door, but John's assertion that Gail following up on the case was a good thing came through.

It was true, too. Well. John could explain that Gail bought Lucinda's theory and ran with it, rather than she was questioning its validity. Picking up the phone, Gail immediately spoke. "If this is about Kinkaid wanting to kidnap Viv for sniff tests, he'll have to ask McNally."

There was a pause on the phone. "No, and hello to you too, detective."

"You're calling me on my desk phone, Holly. My keenly honed detective sense tells me this is about work."

Holly huffed. "It is. And it's kind of about Vivian."

"Oh and her super sniffer?"

"Also her observation skills. The bomb was moved."

Gail blinked. "What?"

"Moved. It got jostled and fell on one side. We thought the metal was just filer, but it was a brace to hold it in place and aim it in a specific direction. Ben figured out it was meant to aim at the box holding the dummy."

"Good?"

"Gail." Holly was exasperated. Clearly there was something she expected Gail to just 'get' right away.

"You gotta unpack this one, Doc."

"We figured out it was directional based on the hooks and the marking on the inside."

There was a long pause. "The ... Inside of the box?"

"Yes! It was labeled on the ... Didn't you get my notes?"

"It's Trujillo's case, Holly. I'm letting her run with it."

Her wife made a very annoyed sound. "She didn't—"

"Holly. She was just in a confab with me. So if you just sent it, she hasn't had a chance to look. How about you tell me what it was?" She tapped up her email though, seeing an alert from the lab. "Okay, I have the notes. What am I looking at?"

"Wood."

"I can see _that_ ," she said dryly.

"There're words on the shrapnel. Scroll down."

"Safe Shipping. Far Distance. Yearly Fees." Gail frowned. "Well that's random as shit—"

"Gail, you don't understand," said Holly seriously, nearly snapping. "It's Safary. Safe - SA. Far - FAR. Yearly - Y. He's back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN.
> 
> Safary was mentioned as a serial bomber back in season one of this fic. The one who 'tried' to blow up the zoo? Yeah. That one.
> 
> It's no secret I suffer from depression, like a lot of artists. Mine is seasonal, which means the more winter drags on, the worse I get. I'm actually in the bottom doldrums right now, my lowest creative ebb, so reviews are extra welcome today. Especially since I'm looking at a day that ends with up to three feet of snow. What the actual what the fuck, as Gail might say.


	23. 03.02 - Messy Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Budget woes delay a long planned reorg and impacts more than just one Peck who wants to join ETF.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should note that Vivian doesn't know about the bomber being Safary yet. She's never really known about it, since it's not her case.

* * *

Watching her daughter run an obstacle course was pure entertainment. Holly had sat beside Gail, holding her hand, countless times as Vivian had run her myriad crazy games. She'd watched the girl become a gawky teen and then a surprisingly graceful woman, running up curved walls, across balls, climb cargo nets, and a dozen things Holly was sure would break her neck, or at least her ankle.

Watching her child enjoy life was fulfilling in so many ways. The universe was better, bigger, when it was delighted in, and Vivian's joy was often found in physical, adrenaline junkie, fun.

Holly had not expected to love that part of parenthood.

But just like Holly had not expected to fall in love with a grumpy, acerbic cop, she had indeed gone head over heels for both Gail's smile and Vivian's. There was just something about the way her girls smiled, ear to ear, teeth flashing in the sun.

Gail's unbridled joy was stunning, hitting Holly always in the deepest part of her heart, reminding her of Botticelli and Georgia O'Keefe. The world illuminated itself at Gail's smile, changing shape and color and meaning. Holly's soul felt invigorated and bold and daring in that smile. Anything and everything could happen. But too, she loved the tender smile Gail wore from time to time. That one soothed her heart and told Holly that her wife, after all this time, had eyes for no one else.

In a different way, when Vivian smiled it soothed her worries and doubts of parenting. The soft, almost shy smile Vivian wore at her most honest was like sunshine after the rain. It would creep in like fog, curling around a person, and then suddenly there was warmth where there had been none. Not that Vivian didn't have a grin from her heart as well, but it was so rare that Holly had only caught it on camera once. The academy graduation picture, with Vivian standing between her parents, was the only one in existence with that smile.

So when Holly saw the edges of that smile as her daughter stepped out onto the bomb range, kitted nearly head to toe in the protective gear, she gripped Gail's hand tighter.

"I can't watch," said Gail in a low voice.

"You'll be worse if you don't."

Gail made an annoyed sound and squeezed Holly's hand. "I know it's not real."

It was real enough. Seven other officers, from all the Divisions, were suited up like Vivian. Three were rookies, including Vivian. They'd filed their applications, passed the written tests, and now the original thirty something or another was eight. Eight officers. The last week had been the physical trials, which included a weekend trip to the academy for the extended obstacle course, a van driving exercise, and then a fake building storming. Holly had not watched any of that, though Vivian had sent Gail a video of the van. Apparently their kid drove better than Gail, setting top scores, and yes it pissed Gail off.

But today was the last test. It wasn't a pass/fail, as Holly understood it. In fact, Sue had mentioned she didn't expect anyone to successfully disarm the bomb in the allotted time. And that was the point. The test was to see how they handled the stress and pressure and if they cracked. Holly had asked if the kids knew it was impossible to win and, if so, they could call the test the Kobayashi Maru. Neither Gail nor Sue had found that funny in the slightest.

"Okay, folks, suit up." Sgt. Julian Smith, a tall and muscular man whom Holly had worked with many times, held a clipboard. "I will call your name and a number. Approach the device with the appropriate number. Do not touch the device until I say so, on pain of instant failure. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" The lineup shouted it as one.

It was a little impressive.

"Helmets and googles on."

Holly watched Vivian put on the helmet and goggles. If the girl knew her parents were there, she gave no sign. The names were read off in alphabetical order, Peck falling in the second to last place, and Vivian taking the seventh spot.

"Lucky seven," said Holly, under her breath.

"I'm so telling Celery you said that," Gail said, nearly laughing.

"Shut up." Holly rolled her eyes and squeezed Gail's hand.

Hushing, Gail leaned forward as Sgt. Smith checked each recruit. Then he came back around to the front. "On my mark, you have ninety seconds to disarm your bomb. Should you fail, the bomb will explode. It will be ... Colorful." No one laughed. "On your marks. Get set... Defuse!"

There was not a rush. Everyone was slow and calm and careful. Holly watched her child only, and was pleased to see her hunched so only her eyes could be seen. The goggles were not colored, but Holly could only make out that Vivian was staring at her device intently. Barehanded, as they all were, Vivian carefully took the top off the device and began to do .. well she did something with the wires.

Holly lost track of time, watching the defusing. With steady hands, Vivian snipped a wire, detached another, and unscrewed something or another.

There was a sudden, rather loud, explosion. Series of explosions. They all echoed in a strange, soft way. It reminded Holly of the time Lisa jumped onto a beanbag and had it exploded all over their apartment, sending millions of foam dots all over the place. Weeks and months later, they'd still been picking the damn things out of their hair.

This time it was shiny. Glitter everywhere. All the officers were covered with glitter. The reflective dust settled and Holly smothered a laugh as Vivian's exasperated, eyes closed, expression came into view. She'd had her head hunched down behind the protective collar, and a helmet and goggles covered her face, but as Vivian pulled them off, it was clear that glitter had gotten everywhere.

A camera clicked beside her. Gail, irrepressible as ever, was grinning her widest, most childish, smile.

* * *

She felt like melting into the mattress. "Oh my god." The hands on her back were magical. They were taking the twinges and aches away and doing something Vivian hadn't even thought was possible. It wasn't that they were pressing hard, they just found every single painful spot. As the hands stopped, Vivian sighed and then groaned as a hot rock was placed on her lower back.

Celery laughed. "You're far more vocal about this than your mothers."

"That's probably the only time anyone will say that, Aunt Celery." Vivian smiled helplessly, feeling the soothing heat.

"Your aura's more disposed to non-traditional treatment anyway. Half the time Holly's here, I have to convince her to relax. And Gail..." Celery sighed and placed another rock on Vivian's spine.

As much as it might pain her mothers, Vivian was open to the possibility of crystals and chakra and scents as something that might help her. She had slept under one of Celery's dream catchers for years, after all. Believing in magic was different, of course, and Vivian would never go that far. But things with Celery had a way of just being right. She was, like Oliver, special.

When Vivian didn't comment about her mothers' tension, Celery asked. "Is Gail doing alright?"

"Mm hm." Vivian tried not to move too much. "At least I think so."

"It can be hard to tell," said Celery, agreeing. "How does that feel?"

Another hot rock went on the base of her neck and Vivian sighed blissfully. "Best. Birthday present. Ever."

"What have you been doing to get so tense?" Celery picked up one of Vivian's feet and gently pushed into the pressure points.

"ETF tests," said Vivian softly. "Please don't tell Uncle Ollie, he'll worry."

Gail worried. Holly worried. Jamie worried. Jesus, everyone worried. Even Elaine and Lily worried, and frankly Vivian wasn't really sure how the hell Lily had found out anyway. Brian had laughed and told her to kick ass. The odds were that Oliver already knew anyway, but he would just worry. He loved Gail like a daughter and, by logical extension, Vivian was his grandbaby. He'd actually said that more than once. Vivian never minded it.

Oliver was the sweetest person in the world, or at least that Vivian had ever known. Honest, kind, and good. He cared about the world, never cheated on his first wife, never lied, never betrayed anyone. When Vivian met him, he'd been Staff Sgt. Shaw to Gail's mid-rank detective. Before Gail made inspector, Oliver accepted the bump to run all of Fifteen like that, handing over the Staff position to Noelle, who kept Dov as her under-sergeant. Dov swore he didn't mind a long tenure as the lower, second, sergeant.

Inspector Shaw wore terrible suits that first year. Vivian fondly recalled Gail's vocal complaints that he looked like a cheap TV cop. She remembered sitting on the upstairs landing, when she was supposed to be in bed, listening to Gail and Noelle and Oliver go over reports and how Gail would, in her most exasperated tone, shout that Oliver's shitty tie was pissing her off. And Holly would tell them to stop being loud because they'd wake up Vivian, only to have Gail argue that the tie was loud enough to do it on its own.

That was usually when Vivian's giggling would result in Gail letting her sit on the couch with a mug of tea and listen for a little while.

Celery jarred her out of her thoughts. "Oliver was the first to tell me you were going to be a cop. When you were fourteen or so?"

"He was?"

"He used to tell me how you'd sit in Gail's office or his office, doing your homework. Except he was sure you were listening to everything everyone was saying."

Vivian smiled. "Not so much Mom, no. She never let me listen in on serious cases."

"She's your mom. It's her job."

"She did a good job."

"I agree." Celery removed a rock and replaced it. Then she asked, "Would hotter be alright?"

"A little. Yeah." Another rock was replaced and Vivian hissed softly. "Oh that's good." It was a little hot, but she could feel the muscles in her back finally relaxing the rest of the way. "Hey, do you still make those dreamcatchers?"

Celery made an affirmative noise. "Did yours break?"

"No." Vivian chewed her lip. "Jamie asked about it."

"Ah. I can make her one, if you'd like."

"Um. Not exactly what..." She trailed off. Conversations with Celery were private. Here she wasn't worried about the Wiccan telling her mothers about the word she was about to say. "You made the one for me. And the, um, problems I have sleeping?" Vivian stopped.

"And?"

Damn it. Celery. "Does it need to be different if two people are there?"

She could fucking well feel Celery smile as her lower legs were massaged.

"I'll need to meet her first," said the older woman, in that tone that reminded Vivian that Celery knew everything. Always.

Ugh. Vivian sighed. "I'll talk to her."

"Oliver said she's very nice."

Vivian felt her face turn red. "I like her."

"Hmm. Good. You deserve some happiness with that. Exhale, please." Obediently, Vivian exhaled and sighed as Celery gently rolled the rocks off her back. "So is this ETF thing why you've got glitter on you? Or are you and Jamie clubbing?"

Still? Damn it, Vivian had been scrubbing that stupid glitter off for days!

* * *

Taking a spot in the back of the room, Gail crossed her arms and tried to look stern. A moment later, Seabourn joined her, mimicking her pose. Then Traci and Zettle came in, also trying to look stern.

"Jesus, Zettle, give up," said Gail, under her breath.

Traci snorted a laugh. "Gail."

"I'm sorry, Trace, but look."

They all looked at Zettle, who was still too young and too green to really look like a badass. "Okay, she has a point," said Seabourn, smiling. "Just ... Try to look like your toddler colored on the walls."

Zettle scowled.

"That'll work." Gail nodded and leaned back against the wall.

They were all standing there, brooding, as the officers started to file in. The rookies took notice of the senior staff. Or at least Christian did, and he quickly turned around and ran back.

"Ten bucks says he's warning yours." Seabourn muttered in a low voice.

"No bet." Gail didn't turn and look, though she heard the familiar cadence of Vivian's footsteps.

Vivian took a seat in the second row, pulled out her log book, at sat very still. Beside her, Christian and Lara were elbowing her and talking about something around her. Probably teasing. The brown head of her daughter didn't look up until Andy came in with Sgt. Julian Smith.

"Alright, everyone, I'm sure you're aware of the shuffle. ETF is moving a ready team into Fifteen. A small squad. Starting today, Sgt. Smith will be our liaison." Andy went on, explaining how the set up would work, how many agents would be posted there, and how the squad split would work. "And, finally, some of you will be assigned to work with the squad, as an onboarding process." She cleared her throat. "Assignments will be on the board."

Gail tilted her head. Interesting. They didn't announce the results. She knew her daughter passed the test, as well as anyone would except, and she knew Sue wanted Vivian. But with eight finalists (five after the bomb range) and three spots, it would be tight. Vivian's youth was likely to keep her and the other rookie finalist out.

Once the officers checked the board and filed out, Gail walked to the front and read the board. Volk and Peck were assigned to liaise with ETF. "Julie, what the hell?"

"Don't call me Julie," said the sergeant. "And don't blame me. Personnel said we can't officially take anyone until next quarter. Something about budget shit."

Gail grimaced. "Well hell. I was all set to lose what's left of my natural hair color."

"Not that anyone would know," said Traci, teasingly. "Come on, Julian. How'd she do?"

The big man sighed. "First reserve. If anyone else flubs their trial, she's in."

"Too young, huh?" Seabourn didn't look happy. "Much as I hate it, we're gonna lose those two to specialist real fast."

"Two?" Julian looked lost.

"Volk." Andy explained it. "She's applied to the D's. Homicide. One of the best exams we've seen in five years."

Zettle beamed. "I get her come spring."

"Well that's when I get Peck. I hope." Julian shrugged. "Being one of our patrol buddies will work, though. Get her, and some of your other guys involved. Make us all a more cohesive unit."

Gail snorted. "You sound like a PR dispatch." She pulled her phone out. "Why didn't we get notified of the delay?"

"Happened this morning," said Andy. "Like five minutes ago. Superintendent is coming by to talk to us about it."

Waving a finger, Gail turned to Andy and spoke firmly. "Fifteen first. Shit like this, McNally, your job is to tell this idiot ASAFP. Can't find him, get me, then go for Traci. We're your rankers, but you cut us out like this, you're fucked."

Andy hung her head. "I don't like any of this."

That had been Andy's ongoing issue with the whole set of changes. She didn't want ETF moving in, she didn't want to give up an officer (or two), and she didn't want to have anything to do with any of it.

Gail felt it was a positively dumb ass windmill to tilt at, but that was McNally's beef.

She sighed. It was her beef too, like it or not.

Traci spoke up. "Are we a team or not, Andy?"

The brunette blinked at her friend. "We. We are."

"Don't sound so sure," said Traci, amused and dry. "Gail's right, Andy. Part of being in charge is using your team." Slinging her arm around Andy's shoulder, Traci gave Gail a slight nod. "Come on, let's get some coffee."

They left, and the three men all stared at Gail. God, men were annoying. She turned to them with her favorite snarl. "What?"

Seabourn held up his hands. "Can Peck... Traci ... Fuck what am I supposed to call her?"

Biting back a smile, Gail replied. "Oliver called her Nash Peck."

"Good fine. Can Nash Peck talk McNally off a ledge?"

"If she can't, no one can." Gail eyed her empty mug. "I'm going back to work. Seabourn, you need to figure out who pulled the rug out on our reorg. And why they didn't give anyone a heads up."

Zeke looked startled. "Me?"

"You. Inspector." Gail canted her head to the side. For the first time, Zeke looked impossibly young. He was only five years younger than Gail, as she recalled. "Zeke."

He nodded, so hard his hair flopped around. "No, no. Yes. Yes, you're right. Um. I should... Ask ... Epstein?" Gail gave him a slight nod. "Right! Epstein!" And he all but ran.

As much as Gail wanted to make a snide remark about the deplorable state of affairs, she was aware that two younger officers stood by her. "That means you go to work too, Dumb and Dumber." Zettle was first to move, having known Gail longer, and Smith followed him.

Then and only then did Gail allow herself a sigh.

* * *

The smell of wet fires were not appealing. Wet wool, for some reason, was soothing. The acridity of the fire and the chemicals and the, well, people though. No. Not even after twenty five years in the business. Holly sneezed and sighed.

She wiped her nose and flashed her ID at the cop at the line. "Where's Detective Anderson?"

"Uh... By the firefighters?"

Holly narrowed her eyes at the young man. "You sure about that?"

He fidgeted and then shook his head. "No ma'am."

At least he was honest. Holly sighed and pointed at his shoulder. "Two things. I am Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Stewart. Use your radio to find out where Anderson is." He hesitated and then reached for his radio.

Throwing her weight around was not something Holly enjoyed doing. Of course Gail reveled in it, but Gail was on a bit of a power trip. Her nagging self doubt kept the detective humble. Holly couldn't claim the same. She knew she was damn good, not just in general. The youngest in her position in the history of Toronto. Even Gail didn't have that claim to fame (she missed out on being the youngest inspector by 8 months, rolling in fifth youngest for a Peck, and settling for being the first female head of OC).

But in a moment where a young officer was being an idiot, of course Holly would lean on her name and her title and put the fear of God in him.

While she waited, a handful of the young firemen started to pass by. Much to her surprise, she knew one by the body type alone. The shortest firefighter of the lot. "Hello, Jamie," she said, starling the sooty firefighter.

Jamie jumped a little and blinked at Holly for a moment. "Oh! Dr. Stewart. Um. Ma'am. Hello."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Holly smiled. "It hasn't been that long, has it?" While Jamie sometimes came over for dinner with Vivian, the last month she'd been working.

"Well. No. No, but we're at work. And, you know Vivian does. So."

"Don't feel the need to mimic anyone. Though if you'd rather, I can certainly call you McGann here."

Jamie sighed. "I think so? This is weird." And she pulled her helmet off.

Now it was Holly's turn to be startled. Jamie's hair was as short as Gail's had been after her little moment of insanity with the scissors. "Oh. That's new."

Self-conscious, Jamie touched her head. "I lost a bet." When Holly, patiently, arched an eyebrow, the mom look, it worked. "How many chili dogs can Kip eat in 30 minutes. I underestimated."

"Oh, those were the days," said Holly, trying not to laugh. "Do me a favor. Wear a hat when you come for dinner and scare the shit out of my wife, would you?"

Jamie looked perplexed. "Sure?" Clearly she wasn't yet up to speed with the shenanigans of Pecks.

"Thank you." Holly glanced past Jamie. "You should get on your truck." Jamie nodded and hustled over to the fire truck, swinging on with an apology to someone there.

"You done scaring the kiddies?" Frankie Anderson sounded close to laughter.

"Oh good, the infant found you." Holly hitched her lunchbox (kit! Gail!) to her shoulder.

Frankie rolled her eyes. "McGann is way too young for you."

"Ew. First of all, married. Also she's dating my daughter."

Gratifyingly, Frankie did a double take. "Your daughter? A fireman? Jesus, does Gail know?"

Now Holly rolled her eyes. "They've been going out since last summer. Jamie spent Christmas with us. You still underestimate her, after all these years."

With a head shake, Frankie shoved her hands in her pockets. "I've seen Gail giving Shay crap for years."

"Well. Her cousin is her personal plaything."

"Chew toy."

"That too," agreed Holly. "Do you have a dead body for me?"

"I do! Right this way." Frankie started off to the back of the house.

To Holly's surprise, they did not go into the house. "The death isn't related to the fire?"

"Oh it is..." The detective opened the gate and let Holly in to the backyard where a damp, burnt, human lay on the grass on their stomach. Quite clearly dead.

"Ah." Holly sighed and shook her head. She could paint a story already. Putting down her kit, Holly pulled on her gloves. "Did the firemen move the body?"

"Afraid so. They had to check if he was dead."

Holly scoffed. "The body was on fire when they found it."

"I'd ask how you knew that," said Frankie under her breath. "His name is Kettler. Gray Kettler." When Holly glanced up, she saw Frankie reading from her notebook. "Go ahead and poke. CSU has been and gone."

With the ease of long practice, Holly set up her equipment. "How did they ID?"

"Driver's license."

"May not be him." She pulled out her scanner. It had an official name, but the day it had shown up in her lab, everyone announced it to be a tricorder, and that was what they called it since. It could scan finger prints, record bloodwork, and perform a handful of basic tasks. She still needed a MassSpec to do the actual work, but for field tests, it did everything the millions of tiny tests had done before. No more blood tests for human, she could even get ABO results.

She thumbed the name (checking spelling with Frankie) into her handheld, which pulled in his driver information. Then she printed his fingers. Some of them. Not all were usable. They'd need some work to become viable. "No prints on record," she told Frankie. Pushing the eyelids back, she photographed the eyes carefully. There weren't a lot of chances to check retinal scans, but just in case, getting them as early as possible mattered. "Eye color matches..."

The detective sighed. "You won't confirm until you can match dentals, will you?"

Her device beeped. "We don't have anything to compare to, Frankie." Holly checked. The blood was human, and she had the typing, but as she'd said, nothing to compare it to. "Why are you in such a rush?"

"Gray Kettler." Frankie said the name like she was sure Holly knew it and was playing dumb.

Holly looked up and frowned. It wasn't the name of an athlete nor a politician. She knew most of the former by interest and the latter by necessity. He wasn't a scientist of renown, or at least not one in her field.

Scientist.

"The CSA ... Oh my god." Holly stared at Frankie. "Assistant Director Kettler? The _astronaut_?" The detective nodded. "Jesus fuck," said Holly, borrowing one of her wife's more amusing expressions. "Kicking this up to OC?"

Frankie smiled a deliciously evil smile. "Nope. Apparently it's not big enough."

Holly tilted her head and tried to process the smile when combined with the words. The fact that Frankie was now the last member of her graduating class to still be on the force struck Holly all of the sudden. Was this, then, Frankie's grab for rank? No, she was a Detective Sergeant. Next was Inspector, and that came with some serious added responsibility.

No. If Frankie was doing something, it would be ...

"Oh ho ho. Steve offered you a job?"

The detective looked horrified and then crestfallen. "Fucking fuck, how did you do that?"

Holly smirked. "You're incredibly transparent, Frankie. Does Gail know?"

Frankie huffed. "Yes. I talked to her and Steve this morning. I left when she threatened him."

That sounded like Gail. "I'll bet she accused him of poaching, and told him to leave Traci the fuck alone." When Frankie said nothing, Holly laughed and continued her work. Really it wasn't a shock. Frankie was practically her age, after all, and Holly was going to be 60 soon enough.

Sixty.

Huh.

The dead man in front of her, Dr. Kettler, was only forty and some.

Sitting on her haunches, Holly looked up at the house and the back door. The door was smashed in, by the firemen no doubt, and the lawn was a soggy, February mess. The body had not been rolled over, which meant they'd simply checked for a pulse before bursting in and looking for more people and handling the fire.

Holly looked at the feet and frowned.

"Hey, Frankie..."

"Yeah?"

"Come here a second." Holly waited until Frankie walked over. "Look at his feet."

Frankie blinked. "They're dirty. Which... He ran out of the house in his shorts, Doc."

"His heels are dirty," said Holly, correcting the detective. "His heels have caked on dirt." She glanced up as Frankie pantomimed running for a moment. Before the other woman could speak, Holly explained. "Most people tend to be heel strikers, that is we walk heel-toe. The same goes for runners, though studies have been done to show how long distance heel strikers are more likely to experience accidents and injury." Holly mimed the action with one hand. "On the other hand, toe first encourages us to lean forward, so it's more common in sprinting."

"I assume there's a point to all this?"

"If your house was on fire, you'd sprint. Even if he was a dedicated heel striker, his bare toes would _still_ dig into the ground." Holly watched Frankie process this and then lean in again.

"Toes are practically clean," said Frankie, her voice flat.

"Dirt is on the back of the heel and ankle."

They shared a look. "Well shit," muttered Frankie. "Someone dragged him out... Rolled him over onto his front, and left?" She looked at the ground, trampled well and good by the firefighters. Then Frankie studied the building. "Security camera," she said, with a tone of suspicion. "This better not be a murder."

Holly held up her hands. "I'm just here to give you cause of death. You find the meaning."

Frankie rolled her eyes, but the glimmer in them told Holly that maybe, just maybe, the irrepressible Frankie Anderson would miss this part of her job.

Holly would have to suggest that Frankie use the offer as leverage for a pay bump and maybe more cases.

* * *

Covering her mouth, Vivian lost at holding back a yawn.

"Late night?" Her buddy Duane poked her shoulder.

"You're just real boring."

Truth was it had been a late night, chatting with Jamie on the phone. A lot of nights were spent like that, much to Vivian's annoyance. Then again, it had helped keep their relationship going for longer than any other one she'd had, so maybe this was the right way to do things. When Vivian had mentioned it to Holly, her mother had admitted that those early days with Gail had mostly been spent despairing over Gail's heterosexuality.

They were moving slowly. That suited Vivian more than she'd realized. She hadn't known that she liked the talking and the hanging out without sex. Of course Vivian liked the sex, it was great. But so was sitting on the couch watching a movie, or reading the news while Jamie read a book.

Maybe it was because they didn't cuddle. Everyone else had wanted to be all up in Vivian's personal space, and Jamie was totally okay with not. Sometimes, at night, Vivian would wake up with Jamie curled up against her, but come full morning they'd always drift apart. It was the opposite of her parents. Vivian had watched them fall asleep, always touching, she'd seen them drifted apart in the middle of the night when a bedroom door had been left over, only a stray hand or foot checking on the other. And every morning she'd crept home late, the door left open on purpose, Vivian saw them together.

She did kind of want that. But whatever she was with Jamie, she liked it. And if that meant staying up talking and texting, then she was fine with that too.

None of which was Duane's business.

And right now, being support for ETF was boring.

"Hey, I was promised Fifteen was a hotbed of homicide!" Duane huffed.

"I didn't know 'Emergency' meant 'Homicide,' Duane." Vivian smirked at him. "It's February. Usually this is suicide month, so fuck off."

Her friend sighed. "True. True." He leaned back and propped his feet up. "I can't believe they had the fucking exams and then said 'maybe later.' That's such bullshit."

"Probably money." Vivian was pissed about that as well, especially when she'd used a little Peck Power to wheedle her scores from a cousin who was in ops. Seeing her own name at the top (second place overall!) for scores but listed as 'first alternate' was infuriating. Having everyone's transfer be put on hold made it a little more tolerable. But for fuck's sake, why'd they had everyone do all that shit without a pay off?

"Maybe it's the low turn out? Did you see the news about the last graduating class? Record lows."

That too. Vivian sighed. "We need to recruit. Go pose with your shirt off."

Duane snorted. "You first."

Before Vivian could harass him back, Andy's annoyed voice cut into their conversation. "Peck! Where's your partner?"

"Filing her notes from the Harrington robbery, ma'am."

"Go get her. I need you to check out a break in at a storage facility. Check your app."

Vivian arched her eyebrows and glanced at Duane and the other ETF agents. "Yes, ma'am," she replied, and got up, but Andy was already gone. "Duane... You'd tell me if you had an affair with my sarge, right?"

"Fuck, I was going to ask you..."

"Nuh uh. I mean, I know Lt. Tran and Sgt— Inspector Epstein went out, a billion years ago, but that was like when they were my age." She got up and picked up her coffee.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing they warned us. Everyone sleeps with coworkers at Fifteen."

Vivian just smiled, not confirming anything, and headed out. For some reason, McNally hated the idea of ETF in the building, and while she hadn't actually done anything to block them, she hadn't been friendly about any of it. And for Girl Guide Andy McNally, the perfect, honest, good girl, it was just weird.

When pressed, her mothers had been just as in the dark. Well. Holly was. Gail probably knew something. Gail also would keep McNally's secrets, as they were friends. Even Gail admitted to that these days. Holly didn't even need to twist her arm that much.

"Volk, wrap it up. Sarge wants us to check out some storage facility."

Lara looked up. "Aren't we on ETF watch?"

"McNally trumps. We're short handed." Vivian went to the locker room to get her vest, jacket and a hat. It was still too cold out there to want to be bareheaded. She shoved gloves in her pocket and went to switch her phone on silent when she was reminded of something her mother did.

_Headed out on patrol._

She pressed send and exhaled. Why did that feel so monumental? She was just telling her girlfriend she was headed out. That was normal.

Or was it weird. Ugh. Vivian put her phone away and went to get the car. She'd just adjusted the seat for her legs when Lara hopped in.

"You're brooding. What's wrong? Trouble in lesbian paradise?"

"We're not talking about this," said Vivian, warningly, and she tapped up the address up on the computer. "At least it's climate controlled," she added, reading the address and recognizing it.

"What? Oh, the storage..." Lara make a clucking noise. "You're deflecting."

"Remind me why you think this is appropriate?" Vivian started the car and pulled out.

Her partner laughed. "Because. I have had movie night with you and your roomie and your girl. This crosses the line of work and friendship and grants me the privilege to pry."

"I take back everything nice I ever said about you."

"Girl talk, Peck!"

Vivian grunted. "No way. I'm not twirling my hair around my finger and asking if what's his ass kisses."

"I dumped him."

"What?" Vivian snapped her head around to look. "The bartender? Since when?"

"Since the sex got boring. He's cute and all, but it wasn't going anywhere. Not that I want to." Lara shrugged. "I'm too young to settle down."

"You're my age," Vivian said, scoldingly.

"So you're thinking of moving in with fire girl!"

Jesus. Vivian rolled her eyes. "No I'm not! And stop calling her that."

She hadn't been at least. And now she was. Damn it.

"I thought lesbians moved in after two dates."

"We don't. I don't. Moms didn't... Not the point. You're old enough to ... Y'know, be serious."

Cannily, Lara asked, "And are you?"

Damn it. "I need stupider friends."

Lara laughed, clearly delighted. "You don't talk about her, that's all."

"Well... I am serious about her. But the only person who needs to know that is Jamie."

"Does she?"

Vivian paused for a moment. "Yes." Did she? That was an odd thought.

And damn it all, Lara knew her well enough to read that pause. "You should tell her you're serious about her."

"Just because our seniors are known for screwing around with personal and private and work, doesn't mean we have to." She tried to pitch her voice like Gail, a little snippy and snide and caustic.

It didn't work. "Wait, there's more than everyone meeting their partners at work?"

Oh god, there was so, so much more. There was Andy and Sam, everywhere. Gail and Holly in interrogation. Dov and Chloe at the Penny (arguably she wasn't supposed to know about that, but Chloe had mentioned in passing that sex in public was gross). Gail and Chris in 1504. Come to think of it, Gail and Nick in evidence...

Her mom was a kind of horny bastard.

Though the interrogation rooms were partly Holly's fault.

None of that was information for Lara just yet. And if it ever was, it was someone else's story to tell.

"Lots more. Always is."

Lara made a noise. "Is Duane single?"

They pulled up at a red light. Slowly, Vivian turned to look at Lara. "This is how it starts," she said grimly. "First you date a fellow cop, then in twenty years the rookies laugh at you."

"Fact check, Peck. Your girl hit on you at an arson."

"Fact check, Volk. My grandparents met over an arrest, arguing who got the collar."

Lara burst out laughing. "Seriously? Who won?"

"Elaine. She sniped the collar. Bill got so pissed off, he transferred to Fifteen to make her life hell."

"When you put it that way, it sounds like a TV show."

Vivian smiled. "Remember to wave at the camera." She pulled into the parking lot and stretched as she got out of the car. "Alright. Let's go check out this break in."

The owner was waiting for them. After checking at he hadn't gone in and he had tried to call the renter, but the number was disconnected. Lara called that in, getting a quick response that it had never been a real number. The owner was astounded, since he'd received calls from it. Vivian had to explain how one could fake numbers when calling out, and that it wasn't that hard. But finally they went down to the unit, leaving the owner in his office.

"Where did you learn all that with phones? Is that a Peck thing?"

"Nah, college." Vivian counted the units as they walked down the hall. "I studied engineering and criminalistics. The phone systems was part of a computer elective in ethical hacking." She paused at the crossways and turned left. "Which is a fancy name for leaning how to break things. It's weirdly gotten easier to make fake phone numbers since we switched to the automated system. No one knows how many numbers we have or what's real anymore. So you can grab numbers that can't exist, and no one really notices."

Lara huffed. "It's creepy when you do that. The whole, surprise genius shit."

"Sorry?"

"Engineering? Really?"

Vivian grinned. "Really."

"So that's why you're all hip on ETF."

"I like things that go boom." She stopped at the door. The broken door. "Well that ain't obvious or nothing."

Lara put a hand on her gun and pulled out her flashlight. "Wow. Tossed by a moron." Looking over Lara's shoulder, Vivian snorted. "Looks clear... I'll check the boxes."

They very carefully checked the room for perps. At least they were supposed to. Vivian found herself noting the equipment in the room. She frowned as her brain filed things into order. It wasn't Peck work, it wasn't from Elaine's weird hobbies or Gail's fun ones. It wasn't Holly. This was from the book Vivian had read on nights at the academy when she couldn't sleep. "Volk, we clear?"

"Yeah. All clear. What the hell is this stuff?"

"Not sure..." She carefully pulled gloves on and then popped a lid.

"Organized son of a bitch." Lara frowned. "Wires."

It clicked. "No way..." Vivian walked across the room and popped another lid. Motherboards. "That's a workbench... Someone makes mini computers," she explained, over simplifying.

"For ... What?"

Swallowing, Vivian reached for her radio. "For bombs."

* * *

There was a word Gail hated well and above all others.

Terrorism.

In the two decades she'd been a detective, Gail had worked countless cases with counter terrorism organizations. She'd gone undercover to save the then Prince of Wales. She'd investigated a flag replacement by anarchists. She'd stopped am anthrax threat.

But getting a phone call from Pedro Nuñez that terrorism supplies were found by Peck and Volk in a storage unit, well... Gail felt her heart either stop or it started pounding too fast to be registered. Thankfully she was sitting down.

"Say again, Pedro?"

"It looks empty. I mean of people and traps. I've got counter sweeping for bugs, but Peck cleared the place for traps and cameras. Did you know you can use a laser pointer for that?"

Closing her eyes, Gail nodded to help calm herself. "I did. You can use them to disable cameras... Doesn't help to find them."

"Oh, she used her goddamn phone for that. Set a signal pulse and waved it around. Showed me the two she found." Pedro huffed. "And the wifi sniffer. She knows her shit."

"Pedro. Stop telling me how my daughter is awesome. She's a lesbian and seeing someone."

Her detective hesitated. "Sarge said it ... Um. He said to make sure you knew the rookies were safe."

She might kill John. "And how is Constable Volk?"

"Nervous."

Now she laughed, because Pedro sounded nervous too. "Well shit, Pedro. Remember your first bomb case?"

"God, yes."

"There you go. This ain't your first rodeo, Detective Nuñez. I picked you for a reason. Now. Why terrorists?"

"The level of organization is insane," he explained. "Hundreds of boxes, sorted and labeled with a fucking label maker. Wires separate from filling and cases. There's only trace amounts of actual explosives, too, so this crew clearly know what they're doing."

Gail huffed. That sure sounded terrorist when he put it that way. "Do you need me?"

"No, I think I'm okay. But you said to alert you ASAFP if there was anything like this."

"Solid. Keep me in the loop." Gail hung up and eyed her phone. Then she tapped her computer and pulled up the dispatch report. Fifteen had found it, so Sue had sent her Fifteen ETF squad out to handle it. Jules was good. He wouldn't let people get in over their heads.

Gail just had to trust. And she was bad at that.

The knock at the door jarred her. "Hey, you look busy," said Dov, in his starched white shirt and hat.

"And you look way too official, boy wonder."

Dov smiled and closed the door as he came in. "Anything I should know about?"

"Eh, possible terrorist depot in a storage facility. There was a break in, so the rooks went to check it out and found bomb making supplies."

"By rooks you mean your kid? Jesus she's got Elaine's luck." Dov looked up and over Gail's shoulder at the photo of Elaine on the wall. "Why does the photo of your mom have a pencil in her eye?"

"Stress relief." She stretched. "Anything I should know about?"

Dov looked suddenly grim. "I got an answer on what the fuck happened with the reorg. You won't like it."

Gail arched her eyebrows. She glanced at the closed door. "Are we being sued?"

"We are suing."

What the what? "We? The force?"

Dov nodded. "I have a video that ..." He pulled his tablet out of his shoulder bag and tapped on it. "How do I use your wall?"

"AirPlay. Look for Champion of The Universe." A moment later, her phone pinged and Gail tapped to approve new access. Then a video appeared on the wall of a set of dummies, all wearing a thick jacket.

"This is our standard issue Mark IV vests," said Dov. A man with a handgun stepped up into frame. "That's Enrico from SIU."

"I know him."

"Right. He did this..." Dov went silent and the audio kicked in.

"This is SIU test fourteen on the Mark IV vests from GoShield. From left to right we have a new vest, a three year old vest, and a five year old vest. Toronto initially purchased these-"

Gail coughed. "Dov, skip the exposition. I know when we switched to these vests." She'd only gotten her own two years ago.

"Just watch, Gail."

"— Initial field reports of vest failure were attributed to ill fitting or misuse. This was until eight months ago, when Officer Fields was shot and killed by a nine millimeter." Enrico put on his ear protection and spoke louder. "Fields and his partner, Pritchard, were wearing the new vests. Pritchard's was new." And Enrico shot the vest on the far left, hitting center mass. "Fields' was five years old." He shot the vest on the far right, a similarly perfect shot. Red colored goo oozed down.

"Holy fuck," said Gail. Her kid was out there in one of those.

"It gets worse." Dov sounded horrible.

The video Enrico went on. "In our independent experiments, we determined the average useful age of the GoShield vests is eighteen to thirty months, depending on use." He shot one of the two middle vests, then the other. No goo. "The second vest has never been worn. The third..." He paused, cleared the gun and the range, and then walked down, opening the vest and showing the material had cracked and dug into the dummy skin. Now it bled.

Gail felt sick. If Vivian's vest had been a little older, she'd have died. "We're out there wearing this shit!? Dov, all our rooks have these!"

"I know," said her friend. "Hence the lawsuit. But we had to go out and buy new vests, stat."

"No shit." Everything aligned itself in her head just then. The money, the secrecy... They couldn't let this get out before they had everything replaced. Some idiots would take advantage of it. "Andy know?"

"I'm about to tell her. Mind coming with me? She might scream."

Gail nodded and got up. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame her. Do we have the new vests?"

"We do. The shipment will be here on Friday. But I didn't tell you the best part?"

Looking at her former roommate, Gail knew there could only be one answer. He was in Internal Affairs, after all. "Who was bribed?"

Dov smirked. "We're about to have a new Deputy Chief."

"See, they should have offered Steve the gig." Gail shook her head and turned off her video.

As they walked down the stairs, joking darkly about things, her phone pinged with a photo from Pedro.

A word, painted on the back wall of a room. A word that told her she wasn't going to have to worry about terrorists.

Safary.

Shit.

* * *

When Gail hung out in her lab or office, waiting on results, it was endearing. There was something about spending quiet, thoughtful, work time with Gail. She belonged in every aspect of policing, and it showed. When Frankie did it, Holly considered places to stash the body. The woman paced, she picked up things and cast them back down, noisily, and she was distracting.

"You know I actually have work," she told the detective. The incipient headache was starting to win.

"Yeah, I know."

Holly sighed. "That's a hint, Anderson. Go away."

Frankie looked up from where she was reading her tablet on Holly's office couch. Her feet were on the goddamn couch. "You're working on my case."

"That doesn't mean I want you hanging around."

"You'll have information for me, one way or the other. Why head back to ThirtyFour just to turn around and come back?"

"You don't have to come back."

Frankie shrugged and got up. "I'll go sit in the waiting room."

"And annoy my assistant?" Holly liked Ruth too much for that.

Spreading her hands out, Frankie sighed. "You're going to have the results on the tox screen literally any minute now. We already know he died inside the house but before the fire started, and that his body was dragged out. I'm saving everyone time."

There was something else going on. Holly narrowed her eyes. "You do know that Mac never shows up here, right?"

To her surprise, the sassy and swaggery detective looked flustered. "What?"

A lightbulb went off. Was this how Gail felt when she deduced something? "Oh my god, did you get in a fight and are hiding here to avoid her? You're an absolute shit, Frankie!"

"We did not have a fight!"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Do I need to call Gail?"

"Jesus! You've been living with Peck too long."

"Go call Mac and ask her out for dinner or something. Leave me alone for forty-five minutes, or I shove every request you have from now until I have grandchildren to the end of the queue."

Frankie huffed but sheepishly dug her phone out as she left the office. Sometimes the woman was impossible. Holly firmly closed the door behind Frankie and sat back down to re-read her own autopsy notes. Years ago she'd had a habit of telling people her theories as they came to mind. The more experiences she had, the more Holly liked to think about them and process. Not that she was often terribly wrong, but some detectives (Frankie, Swarek, and Zettle) jumped to conclusions. Others (Gail, John, Traci, and most of Major Crimes) waited and listened and processed with her. Sadly, the majority of people were jumpers.

Reading the report on Gray Kettler, Holly mulled over the evidence. It was true, they knew a lot, but Holly had yet to conclusively identify cause of death. And she didn't want to assume that the tox screen would be all that useful. All she was doing was miring herself in the weeds more and more. Smoke inhalation was minimal, but enough to cause death provided he'd slept through the fire. Physical evidence told her he'd been dragged, which begged the question of how he'd slept that long. No prescriptions, no drugs, no bottles of booze in the house, so the odds were against that.

It was time to think sideways. She tapped open her web browser and pulled up Kettler's latest papers. He'd worked with the space program since college, a huge nerd that loved the future. The mission to Mars had been his personal holy grail. Sending the solar powered generator so they could boost the signals from the new rovers? Fucking genius. And then! He was the lead on the fuel project.

Or not.

"What the what?" Holly scowled and re-read the intro to the paper. Who the hell was Marshall West?

Using her premium account, Holly logged into her favorite science resource and pulled up the records of the man who was leading the project. He didn't have a doctorate but he was heading up the greener green fuel initiative as of four weeks ago. Except West had a complaint lodged against him by none other than Kettler.

Oh ho ho.

Could it really be that obvious? Holly read through the paper by West. It rang of everything she remembered from Kettler, though it had been a while. Even with a technical paper, the feel of a writer came through. It wasn't impossible to find the style of one person when enough of their papers had been read.

Halfway through the green fuel paper, Holly was stuck by a memory. She frowned and hunted through the archives for Kettler's paper from before the last test run of maned flight to the moon. That paper had been crowed from the rooftops by everyone in science. Hell, Vivian had read it and made Gail watch the tests (which wasn't hard, there were explosions). Everyone watched and Holly had thought it was a sign that her daughter would follow her into science.

But reading? Well. Not everyone read every paper like Holly did. She spent most of her free time writing papers for publications, not because it was required, but because she honestly enjoyed writing. To be able to explain the way her mind worked, the unraveling of puzzles, the leaps of logic, were fun for Holly. Beyond fun. It was joy.

And as she'd been told as a child, Holly read to be a better writer. Which meant she had read an enormous amount of technical papers, about everything under the sun. This reading meant Holly was very good about picking out inconsistencies. She was damned excellent at finding them in research papers and had even rejected an applicant for theft of concepts.

She quickly determined that West tended to use cliched turns of phrases. And like Kettler loved malapropisms. Neither really had a place in a technical report, but everyone did it. It made the dry and dull a little less dull and dry. Some anecdotes (usually about her family) tended to work their way into Holly's papers, after all.

That uniqueness of creation was what gave West away. His words were not his words. And, on a spot check of his other work, Holly was certain he'd stolen Kettler's science.

She downloaded the files and attached them to her report, typing up a quick summary for Frankie. By the time the tox results came in, Holly had a working theory and a very confused detective.

"I do not speak nerd, Stewart," complained Frankie as she came back in. "What does paper theft have to do with any of this?"

Holly grinned. "Intellectual property theft. Kettler filed a stay on one of West's latest papers, the one that got West promoted to head of the project Kettler dreamed up, saying he, West, had stolen it."

"People steal papers?"

That was right. Frankie hadn't done that in college, such as it was. "You never bought a term paper in high school?" At Frankie's snort, Holly grinned more. "Stealing people's work is huge. I've had a paper ripped off before. People do it to get ahead. Plagiarism."

Frankie grunted. "I suppose. Never had that be a motive. I'd expect it to go the other way. Kettler killing West." She shrugged. "It's theory, though. Can't prove it."

"Can." Holly pulled up the tox screen. "West also filed his original work, the first version of his supposedly greener green fuel and it wasn't any good. Not efficient enough. But in his paper, he had the chemical breakdown."

"So?"

"He provided the . results, Anderson."

It took a moment, but Frankie looked enlightened. "And you can compare that to the results you got off fuel that started the fire?"

"Can and did. Gotcha a match. It's also on Kettler's shirt, under the arms."

"Where someone who had the fuel on his hands might grab a man." Frankie laughed.

"And you can prove the plagiarism too. I'll bet lunch that Kettler has a plagiarism checker software downloaded onto his computer, and he checked the files too."

Frankie shook her head. "No bet." She tapped into her phone, ordering up something. "I'll get my guys to figure that out... Well hell, Stewart, your nerd brain solved my case."

"It usually does," replied Holly. "Now. About Mac."

* * *

Never before could Vivian remember being so scared. "They won't like me," she muttered to Jamie as they walked up to the door of the apartment complex.

"Hush. Your moms liked me."

"You took care of me after I got shot. You could kill someone, and I'm pretty sure Holly would tell Gail to shut up and help you hide a body."

Jamie smiled and squeezed her hand. "You are insanely close to your moms and I don't think I was as nervous as you are. I barely talk with my parents by comparison. Worst case, we talk less." Jamie tapped a code in and the door unlocked. "Second floor."

Ugh. That was more reason not to fuck things up, to Vivian's mind. "At least I know you didn't move out because of them." It had been Ruby who had explained that. One afternoon, while picking up Jamie for a date, Ruby grabbed her and said that since Vivian was sticking around, she needed to know.

The story wasn't too weird. Ruby's mother had been arrested for drugs, her father was a non entity. Her options were the system or emancipation. Since Jamie's parents would never be seen as suitable in loco parentis, no matter how much they liked Ruby, they arranged for Jamie to live in a relatively crappy apartment with Ruby. There was probably more to the story, but Vivian wasn't about to push. Hello pot and kettle.

"See? It's all good. Come on."

"Remind me how many girls you've brought home for dinner?"

"Oh, about as many as you." Jamie grinned and rang the doorbell on the apartment.

A moment later, the door opened. "Jamie!" A woman somewhat taller than Jamie was delighted and hugged the firefighter tight and kissed her cheek. "Look at the hair. It's much cuter in person."

Jamie shook her head. "It's growing on me."

Her mother laughed. "That was terrible."

"Thank you," muttered Vivian, who had heard the joke a dozen times already.

Mother and daughter turned to look at her. "Well?"

"Oh! Jesus. Momma, this is Vivian Peck. My girlfriend. Vivian, this is Angela McGann. My mom."

Angela kept an arm around Jamie, smiling. She had a good smile, a smile that asked to be trusted. And yet Vivian felt a niggling of doubt, like the smile was a mask. She studied Angela's face. The aspects of Jamie that Vivian found striking were there in Angela. Cheekbones, the nose, and stunning green eyes. While Jamie's features hinted at a First People's heritage mixed with something darker, Angela's shouted it from the rooftop.

"Hello, Vivian." Angela extended her free hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. McGann." Vivian took the hand and smiled, she hoped sincerely. It was probably more awkward.

"Please, Angela. Don't tell me you're going to sir and ma'am us."

Jamie laughed. "She won't, Momma." There was a comfortable ease Jamie had with her mom, and Vivian was momentarily jealous. She had an ease with her mothers, but it felt different. "Come on, Viv." And Jamie oozed out of her mother's embrace to take Vivian's hand and lead her inside. "Where's Pops?"

"Chained to the stove, where else?" Angela smiled. "It was really nice of you to come all this way on a weekday, Vivian."

"I only have a half day tomorrow. Some court stuff. Jamie's the one with the insane schedule."

Angela laughed brightly. "Doesn't she, though? She never comes out for dinner. How do you two manage dates?"

"With difficulty," said Jamie, and she sighed. Jamie was the exact same person with her parents as she was out in the rest of the world. Was that more normal? Probably. "And tomorrow we're having dinner at Viv's moms' place."

"Oh? Well it's closer, I suppose."

There was a pause and Angela eyed Vivian. "Fifteen minutes in bad traffic. But it's the third Thursday. We always have dinner then, since I moved out. And, um, family Sundays once in a while."

Innocent, Angela asked, "Do you have a large family?"

No. And yes. And in that instant, Vivian knew her girlfriend hadn't explained anything. "In a manner of speaking," said Vivian slowly. "I'm adopted."

"Oh!" And Angela smacked Jamie's shoulder. "You shit." Her tone changed. Maybe it was supposed to be teasing, but it didn't sound like a joke.

"Ow! Momma, come on, I can't tell you her personal stuff!"

Vivian chewed her lower lip. She wanted to tell Jamie that she could. She wanted to tell Jamie to please never tell anyone. But there was also something that tingled her Peck Spider Senses. There was a weird way Jamie had tensed when Angela smacked her arm, a way she looked worried about being called a shit. Even though they hugged right after and were comfortable and easy with each other.

Clearing her throat, Vivian explained. "Gail has a brother. They both have a lot of cousins, but most of Holly's are in Vancouver."

"And all the Pecks are cops," said a male voice.

Looking over, Vivian had to tilt her head up, which was weird. Jason McGann. A former middleweight boxer, junior champion and rising star. And currently a florist wearing an apron that said 'Kiss Me, I'm Irish.' Sure. He was as Irish as Morgan Freeman in that movie. He was simultaneously daunting and amusing, with a broad smile, broad nose, and the eyes. Oh. Those were Jamie's. Vivian essayed a smile at him, fighting down her inclination to simply not talk to strange men. It had been a long time since her old doubt and fear of men she didn't know cropped up, but there it was. Vivian cleared her throat. "Mr. McGann— sorry. Jason."

The man smiled, a little awkwardly, and extended a hand. "Vivian. Nice to finally meet you. Was Jamie deflecting or are your schedules really that weird?"

"Uh," and Vivian faltered.

"Both," said Angela and Jason as one.

Jamie groaned. "This is why I don't mind you guys live a million miles away."

"Ninety minutes is not a million miles." Jason ruffled his daughter's hair. "Adopted, huh. Well that explains why you don't look like my old PO. I swear, the photos of his kids, you'd think Pecks never stepped into the sun. Did you know him? Bill? Cantankerous asshole, but he kept me out of jail twice."

She was going to kill Jamie later. Or maybe Gail. "I never met him, but he, ah, is my mom's father." Jason froze. "He stopped talking to Mom when she moved in with Holly. Turned out Bill was racist and homophobic."

The man looked thoughtful. "Well. That explains why he was always such a jerk to you, hon," said Jason to his wife.

"Jason." Angela scowled. Her voice hit the same odd note it had when calling Jamie a shit. That was twice, and Vivian caught it this time. It was like when Gail insulted people for fun, only instead of being for fun, Angela had a simmering of actual anger down there.

Jason seemed to be used to it. "What? He was alright whenever it was just me, but any time Angie was there, he got all judgmental. Like maybe I deserved this."

"That's her grandfather, Jason!" This time, Angela actually was mad at him. There was no way to mistake that.

Throwing them a bone, and hoping to defuse the situation, Vivian spoke. "Oh, don't mince words on my account. I never met him. His choice." She shrugged.

"Gail's probably said worse," said Jamie, knowingly. Relieved. Jamie was used to the mood changes.

"Steve has." Vivian explained, keeping her voice at an even keel. "My uncle, Gail's brother, married a black woman. I believe Bill said it was good they weren't having kids."

Her mother pursed her lips. "You spend a lot of time with her parents."

"Momma, they live on the same side of town." Jamie gave Vivian a suffering look. "And come on, Mississauga?"

The bantering was, at least, familiar. She felt the hand in hers squeeze and a bit of relief ran through her. Vivian wasn't alone. Jamie was right there. And she could do this for her girlfriend.

* * *

Aching, deliciously, in the best possible way, Gail stopped trying to pull Holly closer and started to unbutton her shirt. Her wife laughed softly, lips grazing Gail's neck. "Really?"

"You started it." Gail growled and got the shirt open. Much better.

Holly laughed again and kissed her, long and slow and languidly. They had all the time in the world. "I was watching the game," said the doctor, softly. But she pushed herself up and, straddling one of Gail's thighs, took her own shirt off and dropped it beside the couch.

"Fuck the game." With a deep sigh, Gail reached to run her hands up Holly's stomach to her bra. "Come back down here."

With a wide, sultry smile, Holly leaned back down, bracing her hands on either side of Gail's head. She held herself just far enough up that Gail couldn't kiss her. "You're incorrigible."

"Because I'm in love with you?"

"Hm. You're fifty and all you want is to screw on the couch."

Gail shifted, running her hands up Holly's back to finger her bra strap. "I wanted to make out on the couch. You're the one who..." She glanced down at how their legs were entangled. "So you're almost sixty and want to screw on the couch."

Holly huffed and sat up again. "No."

What!? Gail froze. "No?"

"No. I don't want to screw on the couch."

Arching her eyebrows, Gail frowned. "So the shirt is just to give me blue balls?"

Holly huffed. "I want to make love to you on the couch. I want to take my time and make you beg," she said, almost matter-of-factly.

It took Gail's brain a moment to catch up. "I don't beg," she said, indignantly. Holly just arched an eyebrow. "Seldom." Gail rolled her eyes. "Oh fine, you."

Smiling, incredibly smugly, Holly tugged at the hem of Gail's shirt. "Good. Now get this off."

Not long enough later, when Holly was indeed making Gail beg, the sound of the garage door arrested what her wife was doing. "God, don't stop," pleaded Gail.

"Why is..." Holly looked up at the door to the garage. Damn it!

A voice from the garage was too familiar. She'd only moved out last year, after all. "Just go in, I'll grab the food."

Food. Gail paused her efforts to try and steer Holly back to the task at hand. Why was Vivian... Oh. Shit. That was right. Vivian had offered to cook at their place. "Fuck, it's Thursday," said Gail, watching her orgasm dream postpone itself.

"Shit!" Holly scrambled to extract herself from her position, but it was too late.

The door opened and they saw a short woman freeze, like a dear in headlights. The door closed right away. "Uh, Viv..."

"Jesus, McGann, go pee! My moms don't care." Whatever Jamie's reply was, Gail couldn't hear it, but she heard an exasperated complaint from her kid. "Oh come on..." Vivian opened the door and poked her head in. "Hey, Moms. Forget it's Thursday?"

While Holly was beet red all over, clutching a pillow to her front, Gail just tugged her shirt back on. "Sorry. We'll go upstairs," said Holly, embarrassed.

"Dinner won't be for a bit, so whatever. But Jamie needs to pee." Vivian shrugged and closed the door again.

While Holly swore and snatched up the odds and ends of clothes that had been discarded, Gail sighed and lay back on the couch. "Gail," said Holly, exasperated. "Jamie needs to use the bathroom."

"I'm not naked."

"Pants." Holly clutched the clothes to her front and gestured at Gail's undone jeans.

Heh. Fine. Gail sighed and got up. "I'm going to be frustrated all dinner..."

"Gail!" Holly was all the way up the stairs in a matter of seconds.

Yeah. "All clear, girls," called Gail as she trotted up the stairs, far too mindful of the fact that she was horny as hell and her wife all but cock-blocked her. She expected to find Holly in the shower already, but instead the good doctor was standing in the middle of their bedroom with her face in her hands. Laughing. Shirtless.

Oh good.

Gail smiled and kicked the door closed. "Funny?" She walked up behind Holly and rested her hands on the bare skin above Holly's currently low slung and undone waistband.

"Oh my god, we're _those_ parents."

Leaning in, Gail rested her head on Holly's shoulder. "Which ones? I'm pretty sure the kid's walked in on us enough times to serve as sex ed."

"Her girlfriend just got an eyeful." Holly snickered again. "And I can't even make a joke about how she knows what Viv'll look like in twenty years."

"Thirty, and no." Gail sighed. "No chance in finishing that?" She slid her hands around to Holly's front and then up. As expected, Holly caught her hands, stopping them as they reached the boobs. Gail huffed and instead brushed her thumb on the tattoo along Holly's side.

Her wife sighed. "You know Vivian's never seen them."

"The tattoos? Well they're not where she's ever looking." One was on the side of Holly's boob, which had to hurt a lot. The other was on her hip, but was tiny. Both places were usually covered by swimsuits and running shorts.

Holly laughed and patted Gail's hands. "Come on, let's clean up and go help with dinner."

One quick shower later, Gail was dressed in slightly more appropriate for family dinner clothes. She walked into the kitchen where Vivian was finishing a sear on the meat she'd brought over. "Hey, kids."

"Hi, Mom."

"Uh. Hi, Gail." Jamie looked and sounded flustered.

Throwing them a bone, Gail decided not to ask how Vivian's 'meet the parents' dinner went. They were clearly still dating, so it must have gone passably well.

"Okay, kiddo, tell me about your week. Pedro was flipping his shit about not terrorists."

"You didn't mention terrorism," said Jamie, chastisingly.

Vivian laughed. "It wasn't. We, me and Lara, found one of Safary's caches."

The small firefighter looked lost. "Who's Safary?"

"Ever hear about the bomber who took out a whole ETF squad?" When Jamie nodded, Vivian waved a hand. "I read up on him. He's a serial bomber. Crops up every four years, maybe five. Blows up some shit. Vanishes. Not always in Toronto either, so I get to work with the Mounties."

Gail grinned. "Give Marcel my best."

"Inspector Savard très excité," replied Vivian.

Jamie snorted. "Your accent is terrible." Then she asked, "Are we all just pretending that ... That all that didn't happen?"

"That you saw my mom's tits? Eh, it was bound to happen. I was betting you'd have seen Gail's first though. She's the nudist."

"You make it sound like I'm a naturalist," complained Gail. "They exaggerate. I don't just prance about in the buff when guests are over."

Covering her mouth, Jamie laughed. "Prance?"

"You saw her on Christmas." Vivian pointed the tongs at Gail. "She's actually a five year old. My whole life with her, I've been emotionally older."

"That's not saying much," said Jamie, teasing. "You're an emotionally screwed up ninety." She leaned across the kitchen island and kissed Vivian's cheek. "Seriously was she ever a silly kid?"

Gail smiled. "Once. Her seventh birthday. Only time I've ever seen a kid with a fun hangover, though." Her daughter, flushed a little, just shook her head. "I am sorry I forgot, Monkey."

"It's fine, Mom." Vivian put the meat, cast iron skillet and all, into the oven. "Okay. Potatoes and meat in the oven, onions and mushrooms nearly done. Winter asparagus blanched. Salad made." She frowned and then shouted. "Mom! Ponytail is fine!" Shaking her head, Vivian went for the plates. "She's standing up there, trying to decide if she should blow dry after her cold shower."

"It was hot," Gail corrected. "It's too cold for a cold shower."

"Metaphorical, Mom."

Gail rolled her eyes. "I got an answer about ETF if you want it."

Vivian froze. "Wait, really? You're not just trying to distract me from giving you shit?"

"Possibly. Though I'd ask how dinner at the McGanns went for that."

"Probably." Vivian sighed. "Okay, lay it on me."

"You're first alternate. Highest ranked of the rookies. But the budget stalled everything."

To her surprise, Vivian grinned knowingly. "First alternate's not bad." The girl bounced on her toes. "When will the budget get cleared up?"

"Did you ask Ops Peck for your score?"

"Duh. When does the budget clear up?"

"End of the year."

Now the girl was crestfallen. "A year?! What the hell, did we lose some lawsuit?"

"No. We have to replace all the bullet proof vests and radios."

The annoyance fell off Vivian's face, replaced by horror. "What? That's why we had to swap..." Her voice trailed off and she seemed to process what that implied, having been shot the year before.

"You heard about the ones that failed the tests?" While Vivian nodded, Jamie shook her head. "So we test the vests, random selection, to make sure they're up to ratings. It's normal. I found out yesterday that all the ones we bought a few years back have a fatal flaw. After five years or so, they get brittle."

Jamie looked appalled. "Did the manufacturers know?"

"Not as far as we can tell, no. But instead of telling us about it, on high just yanked the budget and tried to keep it all hush hush. It just so happened a bunch of ornery cusses had been working on the ETF deployment, after the recent gang wars, fires, and bombings. We need more rapid deployment."

Glumly, Vivian nodded. "Which we can't afford to now, so instead of having one kind of decent sized ETF unit, we have four that are too small for the area they support, and no money to pad them out. Wow."

The familiar footsteps of Holly preceded the interjection. "Won't they just assign you uniforms to fill in? Hello, Jamie."

"Hi, ma'am... Holly." Jamie flushed.

"You've seen her with her shirt off, Hose Head," muttered Vivian. "They can't, Mom. Or at least Fifteen can't. We didn't get any rooks this last year, except Goff and he's a moron."

With a nod, Gail explained. "Recruitment is at an all time low." She frowned and eyed the still blushing firefighter. "How's it over by you? I never remember to ask Shay."

"That means she doesn't really care," said Vivian as an aside.

"Oh. We're okay. We still reject a bunch every year." Jamie shrugged. "Physical requirements aren't a joke."

Holly laughed. "Says the tiny tiny firefighter."

"I'm stronger than I look." With a grin, Jamie pointed at Vivian. "She can tell you."

"She righted my bike on her own, Mom." Vivian sounded nonplussed but Gail could read the smile in her eyes. "Show her your guns, McGann."

There was a small pause and then, blushing, Jamie lifted her arms to make muscles. Holly obliged and did a double take. "Holy crap, Jamie, you're solid muscle! Gail, come here!"

With an eye roll, Gail walked over and poked Jamie's bicep. "I'm not surprised. Have you seen the crap they carry?"

"Shit, I'm drafting you to help me with the garden come thaw."

Jamie looked perplexed. "Garden? I've never had one."

Holly looked momentarily sad and then determined. Gail knew that look. The doctor had finally sorted out the kind of broken family Jamie McGann had come from. It was clear that, like Matty, Jamie was about to be adopted as unofficial family. "Well that's decided. You're definitely helping me garden."

Glancing over, Gail saw a shy smile on Vivian's face. The youngest Peck was pleased at the change. This was, at last, someone she'd successfully brought home. Gail grinned and signed at her daughter, telling her she'd done a good job. While Vivian rolled her eyes, she was clearly happy.

Yeah. Gail would do a lot to see that kid happy.

* * *

"Hello, Marcel," said Holly, as the man walked in. "I hardly recognize you outside of your dress uniform."

In his regular uniform, Inspector Marcel Savard still cut a striking figure. With a grey shirt, starched perfectly, tucked into dark blue pants with a gold stripe, he looked like a normal, dashing, officer of the law. Holly had often wondered if the Mounties had a 'good looking' requirement. He was suave. Years back, Gail pointed out he was sexy, something both Vivian and Holly had taken at her word.

Maybe Holly should have seen the gay thing coming with Vivian ages ago.

"Hello, Dr. Stewart. Have you not seen my normal uniform?"

"No, only the dress reds. Which are amazing. Did you ever see Gail in your uniform? She spent three days undercover as a Mountie."

Her friend laughed. "I have. Gail showed me." He gestured at the table. "I am greatly interested in your bones."

Holly rubbed her hands together. "As soon as John gets here, I can get to the new stuff." She smiled and began to unravel the ongoing plot. Marcel had been assigned to the case, tasked with assisting Toronto PD with their search for the lineage of serial killers.

That had happened after Holly got a phone call from Manitoba, asking if she could perhaps check a skull of their's to her matrix. It matched everything they could check, so the 3D scan was sent to Toronto for Holly to compare. Lo, it matched a single use.

Suddenly it was clear what they had was a national case.

And a national case put it under the purview of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Marcel listened as Holly explained the pattern of attacks, or rather the lack of one. The year before they had set upon a theory of matching cars to killers, but it proved too sporadic. Cars, yes. Specific makes and models, not so much. Still, the bones had proven to be useful.

Working with experts from McGill, Holly had determined how the bones were cured, based on the few they'd been able to find in the exhumed bodies of older victims. Apparently the idea of storing the old weapon with a new body was a fad. On the other hand, the idea of using a bone once and swapping it was fairly common.

Seventeen leg bones with the wrong bodies. And many of the bodies who'd been buried as a John or Jane Doe turned out to be from other territories.

The few fresh bodies that Holly had stumbled across were a little more disconcerting. The vast majority were carefully staged and left to decompose naturally. They had only found a small selection, not even five, of the modern kills until Manitoba.

That opened the door to a horrifying possibility that someone, or some group of someones, were dumping the bodies in the Toronto-land area. It also opened the door to the Mounties, who were quick to assign their newly appointed head of affairs in Ontario, Marcel Savard, to the case.

"So you have no motive? Except for the death of Mlle. Mills?"

Holly nodded. "Correct. The survivor can't remember anything of the attack, or so John said." She paused. "Marcel. There's something you should know."

"If it is that Mlle. Mills was the betrothed of Sgt. Simmons, I am aware. Gail was quite firm that I was not to attempt to remove him from this case, on pain of her rather unique imagination." He shrugged. "This is still her case to appoint as she sees fit."

Translation: he didn't like it. "She's very much aware of the intersection of two or more sides of this case," said Holly carefully.

Marcel nodded. "Yes. As I see, you have yet another. Excuse me, we. We have the individual culprits, the weapons, the vehicles, and the targets. Now we have to consider this idea that motive is a large factor."

"That," said John, announcing his presence. "That is my current headache. You must be Inspector Savard." John extended a hand to Marcel with a grin.

"Sgt. Simmons, please call me Marcel. I imagine we will be working very closely."

"John. You know the doc." He held up a tray of coffees. "She get you all caught up?"

"On all but the motive, yes." Marcel eyed the tray and picked Holly's, handing it over. "Did you deduce my favorite?"

"I asked Gail." John took his own. "Motive. I actually made some headway on that."

Holly sipped her coffee and gestured for John to use her whiteboard. He was visual and, in the decades she'd worked with him, Holly had learned to give him free rein. "Motive is your business," she said, a little impishly.

The man did not rise to the jibe. "The problem, Marcel, is that we have two possibilities. First is that we actually have people who are serial killers and have been keeping this a secret from us for over 100 years. While this is totally plausible, it seems extreme."

Marcel nodded. "Yes, it should have alerted you to its presence years before. A killing spree."

"Exactly. So how and why do they hide the killings if we _are_ finding four or five a year, nation wide, at most?"

Frowning, Holly pointed out the obvious. "They're not all fresh kills. I've never seen more than two of those a year. Four if I count the ones outside Toronto but still in Ontario. And, frankly, death by head injury isn't that uncommon."

John grinned. "Why did you start lumping mystery head bashings together?"

She eyed her old friend. "Because there was no motive and they were unsolved."

"Which led you to figuring out that they were similar in result."

Holly nodded. "True."

Marcel snapped his fingers. "It would be, excuse me, presumptuous for us to say that all similar injuries are related. But if these people are killed outside the province. Mon dieu. Has this ever happened before?"

"A dozen or more killers?" John shrugged. "If each one killed five people over a decade, it would be less galling."

"It's the group... Dr. Stewart." Marcel rubbed his mustache. "What if there are more killers?"

She wanted to say no. She wanted to say her list was complete. But as Holly opened her mouth, she pictured the injuries and the idiosyncrasies that had been attributed to situations. "It's ... It's plausible." She sighed. "I can run the numbers and see if being a little less flexible gives us smaller data sets."

The matching grins on Marcel and John's face gave her some hope at least. But it was the only time she'd ever thought that more killers would be better.

* * *

Sitting with Duane and Sabrina, Vivian eyed the parts. "So they match?"

"Yeah, that's what this part of the report means." When the results from evidence had rolled in, Sabrina had started to compare it to older cases of the Safary character. Vivian, tasked with assisting, lurked until she managed to get Sabrina to include her.

That wasn't really fair. Sabrina, a few years older than Vivian, had taken it on herself to act as a mentor of sorts. Of everyone, Sabrina had wanted Vivian to be in ETF the most, possibly because then she wouldn't be the only woman permanently assigned at Fifteen.

But all that was suspended for now. That morning, Andy had explained that everyone would be trading in their vests. After the grumbling came the shock of the reason. It was worse for ETF, who wore a lot more than the vests. So when Sabrina asked if Vivian was upset about the delay, she had to admit she wasn't.

Far better for everyone to be safe, after all. And when the girl who got shot a half year ago said she was okay with it all, everyone shut the hell up. She was annoyed, sure, but not upset.

"The samples match, but that could be a coincidence," said Vivian carefully.

"Tool marks match, and it connects to samples from dozens of bombings."

Dryly, Duane mocked her. "Dozens. She means six."

"Plus five fake bombs," snapped Sabrina, and Vivian held back a smile.

"That's eleven," Duane replied. He was baiting her. "Look, Safary, he's practiced. And he has six known bombs, four of which killed people. He's always ..."

Now Vivian spoke up. "Revelatory. Every time he blows things up, it reveals some corruption or otherwise terrible acts. He's like a whistle bomber."

Both ETF agents grinned at her. "Oh that was good," Sabrina said decisively.

Duane's high pitched giggle seemed to agree. "That's for someone else, man. We just go in and play hero. They figure out where to send us."

And there, he nailed the head of the only doubt Vivian had about ETF. Not that two years as a beat cop hadn't taught her how to cope with handing off cases. No, she was worried about the lack of direction. ETF was the clean up crew. Was that really what's she wanted? Hard to say.

Vivian sighed and leaned back.

"Thinking hard, huh? How'd the meet the parents go?" Sabrina was devoid of any shade as she asked the innocent question.

"Oh. Okay, I think."

Gail had buttonholed her at the end of dinner the night before, asking the same question. But Gail hadn't asked how the dinner went, she'd asked how Vivian felt about the dinner. And frankly she still wasn't sure. Oh, she'd liked them as people and hanging out with them was fine, but Jason gave her an unsettling feeling.

More than likely it was just her messed up brain confusing and conflating the memories of her father with the existence of a man she knew hit his wife. Once. Exactly once, according to Jamie. And in return, Angela broke his leg by kicking his knee. Which was badass.

But still.

She and Jamie had talked about it, a lot, before they'd finally sorted out a dinner time. Jamie had been adamant that it had to be mid-week. Any other time and they'd have to explain why they didn't want to stay a long time. Mid-week with work later was perfect. And since Angela was a teacher, she'd not want them to stay late.

Jamie had also been open about not wanting to give Vivian crappy flashbacks, which had not happened. It was just unsettling, Vivian explained that night on the car ride home. And Jamie admitted she often felt the same way about her father, which was why she'd jumped on the chance to move out.

What was it like, she asked Gail, to not trust the people who raised you? Because for all the betrayal of her father, Vivian _did_ trust. She trusted Gail and Holly, Oliver and Celery, Steve and Traci. She trust Elaine, Nick, Andy, Chloe, Dov, and ... Okay she mostly trusted Andy.

The point was that she did trust people.

Gail had sighed and said that it was from experience. It had been years since Vivian had met a new, strange, man in a position of familial authority. In fact, there really weren't any in her life. Oh, there was Grandpa Brian and Ollie, but they never had any real weight to push on Vivian, whereas Jason was an established person of presence in Jamie's life.

This was, essentially, her first time since she was six that she was going to be faced with a dad.

Of course she was uncomfortable.

Sabrina poked Vivian's arm. "Hey, you meeting up with Jamie after shift, or what?"

"She's working." Vivian rubbed the back of her head, pulling herself out of the cloud. There was a pregnant heaviness in the air. Huh. Sabrina was expected her to say something. "Why?"

The ETF agent rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot savant, Peck. Wanna go drinking? Introduce us to the Penny?"

Oh! Vivian felt sheepish. "Sure. Yeah. The beer's okay."

"Not as good as the Rat Hole?"

"The fact that you assholes call your 'favorite' bar that way fills me with constant dread." It's full name was the Dead Rat, which wasn't any better.

"Peck!" Their bantering was cut off by Det. Trujillo. "Upstairs. My desk." And as quickly as she appeared, Trujillo vanished.

"Oooooh. Mommy calling you to her office?"

Vivian logged off the computer and shook her head. "She's at Thirty-Four with Anderson. I bet it's about yesterday in court." It had been Vivian's first time on the stand. Only as she'd been sworn in, the defense called for a motion of something and she was dismissed. Temporarily.

"Think you can still come drinking?"

"Probably. I'll text if not. Otherwise, Penny at six?"

"Rock on."

She and Sabrina exchanged fist bumps and Vivian jogged up the stairs to the third floor. "You rang, Detective?"

Trujillo grinned. "Remember me when you're rich and famous, huh?"

Vivian blinked and pointed at herself. "Me?"

"Crowne's office just called. Defense on the Summerland Arsons has plead guilty in the wake of your name." Trujillo tapped Vivian's name tag.

"So you dragged me upstairs to...?"

"Give a statement. Your friend, Maisie, is claiming Hanford roughed her up."

"What?" Vivian yelped, drawing ire from various people. She lowered her voice. "I'm the one who hauled her from the bomb." She held up her hand. "Maisie bit me!"

Trujillo motioned for Vivian to sit. "Which is why I need your statement. After we double check the Summerland stuff."

Vivian winced. "Well there went going for drinks."

"We should be done by nine, unless you're keeping secrets, little Peck."

Shaking her head, Vivian pulled out her phone to text Sabrina with the time change. If she'd wanted a stable, predictable life, she never would have been a cop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That damn head bashing plot.
> 
> So what we have now is a group of people, spread across all of Canada, who have been dumping bodies in Ontario for years. Over a hundred. Since it wasn't until Holly came up with the idea of the bones as weapons that they started to really get a connection past 'people with their heads bashed in,' they were just all loosely related. Until now.
> 
> Now they know that theory is reality and this has been a generations long crime.
> 
> Also there were a lot of moving parts in this chapter, because adulthood is made up of multiple crises happening simultaneously.


	24. 03.03 - To Serve or Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Divisions work together to try and solve the Safary case, but can Sam and Andy do it without hurting each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivian turns 25 (that screaming in the back is Gail, just ignore her).
> 
> An explosion is nearly fatal when someone follows their own beat.

As she closed the door behind Jamie, Vivian could feel Matty eying her. "Jesus, Matty. What?"

"You _like_ her."

Turning, Vivian saw her best friend grinning ear to ear. "I regret inviting you over. I could have had a sexy belated birthday, but no. No, I invited my gaybro over."

Jamie had been stuck at work on Vivian's actual birthday, so that actual date had been a dinner out with her family and then some drinks with her coworkers. Mostly that was Nick's fault, asking her at fucking Parade if she'd mind working a half shift on her birthday. After that, everyone knew and it was all over.

Since Jamie had missed it, and so had Matty who'd been swamped with a deadline, they arranged a quiet lunch at Vivian's, with Enrique as well. The boys brought the cake, Jamie brought the beer, and they'd had a blast making pizza and playing music. An hour prior, Enrique had gone for a table read of his new opera, and then Jamie had gone to take care of the millions of things that had piled up on a 5 day shift.

It was not the first time Matty and Jamie had hung out, but it was the longest that Vivian knew of.

"You really like Jamie. It's cute. I like her too."

Vivian sighed and threw herself into her comfy chair. "I do," she said softly. "I just ..."

Matty reached his foot out and kicked her calf. "You have always been too much a thinker."

"I know." She grumbled. "I'm worried. I haven't... You know, I haven't had a successful relationship before."

"Uh, I thought Skye and Pia went okay."

"Well, Pia was also on a deadline. And Skye..."

"Doesn't hate you."

That was true. "No. She doesn't. But we don't talk anymore."

Her best friend rolled his eyes. "Hello, you were doing that stupid double major. Which you still aren't using!"

"Not my fault. The budget got fucked." She scowled and reached for her water glass.

"What the hell happened anyway? The news was all up about how you guys are suing some bullet proof vest company?"

"Oh, it's fucked up." And she explained how the flaw in the vests was found and how they had to spend money on new vests before they could publicize the case. After all, if the criminals knew that they had critically dangerous protection, the police would be sitting ducks.

Being shot was an experience Vivian had survived, and would not care to have to suffer through again. Surviving being shot was, of course, way the hell better than the alternative. It just hurt like hell.

"Jesus, I can't even imagine... Was your vest one of the bad ones?"

"Dunno. We had a swap day." She'd scrubbed the words off her old vest, which had taken a while. She was still contemplating what to put on the new one. Gail's had already been swapped out and Holly had written 'You're my idiot' on it. Vivian's 'Don't be stupid' was below. Whatever Gail had written was still unknown.

"That's horrifying! Dude, you were shot last year!"

"Older vest," she said dismissively.

It was something she'd thought of, though. Been horrified by momentarily. Had she worn that vest when she'd been shot, she'd probably be dead. At best, she'd be missing a liver and some other important internal organs. But in the end, Vivian had dismissed it since it had happened and was done and over and what more could she do? No point in worrying over that sort of thing.

Matty, who was still getting used to hanging out with cop Vivian, shuddered. "Just promise me you'll call me to fuss over you if you get shot again."

"God, why would I do that?"

"Because I can bake a quiche," Matty announced, primly.

After a moment, Vivian could only stare. Then she laughed. "You are impossible, Matty."

Her oldest friend in the world smiled. "You never laugh enough, Viv."

"Tell me something new."

Matty sipped his water. "Okay. I always thought... You had to be so brave because something scared you. And I couldn't see why until those morons beat me up."

Vivian looked down. "Matt."

"I know. You never want to talk about what's on your mind. You never have. But if you do, you know I'm here, right?"

She nodded. "I know."

"So. There. Good. I'm your best friend. Tell me about this girl you like."

She rolled her eyes. Matty was always changing topics like that, dancing between deep and foolish over and over and over. "How did you know Enrique was, y'know..."

"You're asking me? You, with the perfect parents married for fucking ever— Oh." Matty's eyes went wide. "You can't see the forrest for the trees?!"

"Nope!" Vivian popped the P. "I like her, a lot. And I don't mean the sex."

"But the sex is good?"

"Sex is great. She's—"

"No details." Matty held up his hands. "Girls are not my thing, and two of you at once? Ugh, so gay."

Vivian smiled at Matty's silly remark. "Dumb ass, I was going to say she's really awesome."

"She makes you smile." He wasn't asking, he was telling. "Okay. Enough serious shit. Come on, show me your dress blues and anything you think qualifies as fancy dress up clothes?"

"My what?" Vivian startled.

"Gail told me she had your dress uniform cleaned and fitted for you, but that's not the same as getting your fancy duds tailored. And I? I am a tailor."

"Matty, you're my bestie. What the hell are you talking about?"

"You need to dress up nice and take Jamie out to something fancy, and make her swoon, and then whisk her back here for a sexy night."

Wrinkling her nose, Vivian asked, "Why?"

"First off, grand gestures let people know you care about them. Second, looking hot is awesome. Third, Jamie has not yet experienced the finer things in life."

"Matthew, you didn't even go to the damn opera until I brought you!"

"Exactly my point! Without which I never would have gone to see the show in New York and met Enrique!"

"How, exactly, is this beneficial to me and Jamie?"

"Pretty things good, stop being lumberjane."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I don't even know if Jamie has a dressy dress, Matty." Actually, she didn't know if Jamie was a dress or pants girl. On their dates, they'd both worn jeans or nothing at all.

"I'll take care of that. Come on, show me the deplorable state of your closet."

Groaning, Vivian gave in. "I fail to see what my dress blues have to do with fuck all," she added, but led Matty into her room.

"They're my starting point, my dearest sister in all but blood." Matty opened Vivian's closet as dramatically as possible. "I want to see how nice you can look and then, then I will make you a star, darling."

* * *

Rubbing her eyes did not make the pain in Gail's head go away. Unlike the eye strain that had been plaguing her for a few weeks, this was a purely situational headache. A personnel related headache. She was without her bastion of sanity and sarcasm to boot, as John and Janet had absconded Canada for a two week vacation to Mexico.

God. Sun. Sand. Water. Holly in a skimpy swimsuit. Gail wanted to go to Mexico right the hell now. Two whole weeks away from everyone and everything.

Instead, she was reassigning cases left and right. Trujillo was taking over the head bashing case, just in the chance something came up. Pedro had the bombings, but she wanted a more experienced detective running point. And since the Mounties were in on the head bashing, she didn't feel like asking Marcel to loan her someone for the bombs was right.

Which meant someone outside Fifteen. That gave her two main choices. One was Anderson, who was making noises about retiring. The other was Swarek, who probably should have been put out to pasture years ago. Sadly, the bombs had been found more regularly in Swarek's Division territory, which made him the perfect, if annoying, person to reassign the case to.

"Yikes, you look like crap, Peck."

"I'm regretting this already, Swarek." She took her hands off her face. "You looking to be Inspector?"

"Nah. Marlo and I talked about it. I made sarge, I'll retire at forty in, call it a good life. Get the kick ass retirement package. Maybe teach a class or two."

Gail's brain did the math without being prompted. She was at twenty-seven years policing. Give or take. Sam was eight years older. "Five more, huh? Think you'll make it?"

"Think you will?"

"Forty? Maybe if my kid doesn't give me an ulcer first."

"Speaking of your kid, can I borrow her and what's her name? The wanna be D?"

"Volk?" Gail blinked. "I know we have the top of the class rooks, but whatever for?"

Sam closed the door and sat down. "You're gonna laugh."

"Probably."

"You're handing me Safary, right? Of the three divisions, I'm point now?"

Nodding, Gail forced her hands to be still. She had a feeling she saw where this was going. "You are. John wants to concentrate on the head bashings."

"And Pedro is good, but he's green. So you need someone experienced—"

"Old."

"Whatever. You need someone who's been around the block. Me. And I don't wanna piss off Fifteen. I don't have a lot of cred here to begin with, y'know."

Gail rolled her eyes. "I'm aware," she said. Andy had already complained loudly about Sam being around. Top it over Andy's disgruntlement over the ETF stuff in the first place, and she'd been rather insufferable. More so than Gail normally found Andy.

"Well. I think rooks'll be less prejudicial is all."

"Probably." She had to give him a point there. "Okay. So you want Peck and Volk?"

Sam nodded. "I do, I do. See, you'll like this. You put your kid on me, everyone'll think you're spying on me, or forcing me to behave. Who's gonna fuck around with the boss's kid?"

"I don't think that stopped you when you were in blue here," drawled Gail.

Damn snorted a laugh. "You know, you're cute Peck, but you and me never had even a thought of a thing."

Internally, Gail corrected it to 'you and I' but she didn't say it aloud. "The only cougar hunter we seem to have right now is Rich, and he's straight, so history is not repeating itself."

The idiotic thing was that while Andy had, at some point, accused her of sleeping with both Sam and Luke, those boys had been furthest from her mind. Sure, Gail had deigned thoughts of sleeping to get ahead, but neither of those boys would be on her list. But. Well. Her second year on the force was entirely unlike her kid's or her brother's.

"You know... I did a couple cases under your Mom." Sam looked up and over at the photo of Elaine, currently with a Groucho mustache doodled on it. It was a print now, and Gail had replacements in her drawer. After all, Elaine doodled on it every time she came by. "She was real lucky."

"It's more timing than luck."

"It's both, and you know she had it."

Gail frowned. "Is this the part where I laugh?"

"I think your kid is kinda a good luck charm."

The laugh popped out before Gail could check herself. "My kid?"

"Yeah, like McNally was."

"Uh, fact check, Swarek. Andy McNally was a disaster. Is a disaster."

"Yeah but she has that copper instinct. You don't. You have a criminal instinct. It's a Peck thing. You, your brother... If you weren't coppers you Pecks would run a crime syndicate." Sam paused. "I'm not sure you're not."

Narrowing her eyes, Gail pointed at Sam. "Watch your ass, Sam."

"Point is? That kid of yours, she's like your Ma. Elaine had this vibe, this bead that told me she was the kind of lady you follow." Sam sighed loudly. "You could see bits of it. Ollie, he told me Elaine Armstrong was a hella different lady. I would've liked her. And I think your kid though, she's got that 'it' too."

Gail shook her head. "Lotta words from you, Swarek." She rubbed her lower lip. Sam was generally a man of few words, one of the reasons his relationship with McNally had imploded too many times to count. But that conversation was the longest she'd talked to him about anything, and it was about her kid. "It's about seeing Peck from the outside," Gail said at length.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that."

"Okay. Peck and Volk. I'll clear it with McNally, but I need you to loan me a uni to fill in."

"Just one?"

"Two would be better. Four would actually replace them. But I know everyone's strapped."

"Recruitment's crap." Sam grinned his hound dog smile and got up. "I can loan you Hoover."

"Is that a name or a value judgement?"

"Latter. He drank a whole bottle of Sirachia hot sauce in one go."

Gail, known in her family for being a garbage pail and eating anything, was impressed. That didn't happen often with regard to food. "And he didn't puke? How does that go to naming a guy for a vacuum cleaner?"

"Apparently he double downed on his boyfriend before the sauce particles were fully cleared out of his mouth."

The words arranged themselves in Gail's head. The picture made her gag. "Oh god, Swarek, get out! Loan me Hoover and I don't wanna know anything else. Out! Out!"

Sam laughed on his way out. The asshole.

Hours later, Gail related part of the story to her eye doctor as the woman looked into her eyes with a penlight. "I wouldn't mind if he didn't have an inkling of a point. The kid is damn lucky."

Her doctor chuckled. "Remind her that she needs a checkup too."

"She moved out! Last year."

"Oh, we need her new address then."

"I'll nag her to call you."

"Thank you. Okay. Cover your right eye. Read as low as you can."

Gail read off the bottom line. "E - T - P - O - L - M - Z F."

"Switch eyes."

Damn it. "L - E - F - O ... D - P - C - T?"

"One up?"

"P - E - C - T - F - D - Z - O."

"Uh huh. You know what I have to ask, Gail."

"It's been getting worse. I noticed it at the range, around my birthday last year. And if the next words out of your mouth are that I'm at that age, I want a new doctor."

Her doctor laughed softly. "Okay. Let's try something... Here. Read this."

The colors changed and Gail blinked. "Okay..." She read the bottom line surprisingly easily. They changed the colors twice more, until one (white on a weird blue) was hard to read. "What does that mean?"

"It means your eyes are still twenty-twenty, but you have a little eye strain. Drops, no reading in bed, and I want you to change your reading glasses to ones that are tinted for computers. Just like your shooting lenses. Different color."

Gail blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it. Given the timing, I think you concentrated too hard trying to prep for your birthday shoot and work is continually aggravating. I'd tell you to take a break from shooting, but even after that head injury, you never did." The doctor shrugged.

Head injury. What a funny way to refer to her kidnapping. Not that the doctor knew all of it. "It just occurred to me how long you've been my eye doctor," said Gail with a sigh.

"We're both getting up near retirement."

"God, don't remind me. One of my top detectives is thinking about it." Not that Gail would ever tell narcissistic Anderson that she was a top detective. "We doing eyedrops?"

"Next time," said the doctor. "The nurse will print up your new prescription and order the glasses."

"Pleasure doing business with you." Gail stood up and paused. "It was a serial killer, you know."

Her doctor froze, hands above her keyboard. "What?"

"The head injury. A serial killer attacked me, smashed a door into my face and beat me up. Kidnapped me. That's why, after I got out of the hospital, after they cleared my eyes, I had to go to the range."

That had been the second thing she did. After Traci dragged her out of the hospital, after they met everyone at the Penny, Traci offered to take her back to the hospital or home. And Gail made her go to the range instead. They shot for half an hour, then went to dinner, then Gail spent the night on Traci's couch. And then ... Then she moved back in with her parents.

Moving home had been a phenomenal mistake. She should have stayed out on her own. Or with Traci. That would have been better. Well. Mistakes all around. Gail wouldn't change a thing, since if she did, maybe she wouldn't have been ready when Holly showed up in her life.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Ah hell, it's half my life ago, doc. But y'know... You know that's why I have to keep going to the range. I'm a cop. It's what I do."

Her doctor tilted her head and sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's not that. You know my wife's a doctor? She always says diagnosis is contextual. If you tell me I can't shoot because it'll hurt my eyes worse, I should know, right?"

"Ah. They won't. Your eyes won't be hurt worse by shooting. The strain just leads to headaches. But... You really needed the tinted glasses for shooting. Your long range vision won't be permanently impacted."

Maybe later she'd tell Holly about the conversation, and her wife might ask why she'd told the doctor. It was about context, but it was important for her eye doctor to know how much being a cop meant. She had to know that even after Gail nearly lost her life, Gail as still a cop, and still out there. It was, indelibly, who Gail was and would ever be.

The Peck nurture and nature shaped her into who and what she was. It created a cop. It built her into someone who always saw the big picture and who existed for sacrifice. But there was more to it than just being a Peck. Being someone better came from the person she became later.

Gail had grown to greatly like the person she'd become.

Even if that person needed special shooting and reading glasses.

* * *

The moment the bell on the door jingled, Holly heard her name called out with joy.

"Dr. Holly!"

"Good morning, Bita," replied Holly, grinning happily. "How are you?"

"Excellent as always. My granddaughter fixed my kitchen."

Holly looked beyond the bakery display. "Not here, I hope."

The other woman laughed. In the forty years Holly had known Bita, the woman's laugh had been her best feature. She had one of those bright, shining, happy laughs that healed the soul. Even though Bita had gotten greyer and shorter, she was still the delightful person who made Holly smile.

"No no, my home. We bought a new stove, six burners. It's beautiful. But the gas line was at a bad angle. She fixed it!"

"That's impressive. Maybe I should hire her when we do construction."

"Are you planning on moving now that your baby is all moved out?"

Holly shook her head. "No, not yet. I'm holding out on the dream of grandkids."

"Oh, I know that feeling. I thought it would be forever before my kids did that. Now my grandkids are all grown up!"

How old must Bita be? She was probably the same age as Holly's parents. Holly knew Bita's granddaughter was younger than Vivian, at least. "Wait, how old is Sita?"

"Nineteen," said Bita with a deep sigh. "She's at trade college for construction."

That explained the work. "I'm definitely hiring her if I need any work done. Keep it in the family."

Bita laughed again. "At least her brother wants to be the next baker. He did the icing on your cake."

"I'm sure he did a wonderful job."

"I think so. Let me go get that." And Bita scurried into the back, coming back with a box and a bag. "The bag is for your wife."

There had been one time that Gail had met Bita. When Holly's fiftieth birthday was coming up and Gail was too busy to bake, she'd hired out. Or rather, she'd tasked Vivian with getting the cake and inviting Bita. The two had chatted for hours, getting along famously, but Bita claimed to understand the reason for the ban on Gail at the store.

"She loves you," said Holly. Peeking into the bag, she saw it was filled with Gail's favorite cookies. "Okay, let's see the art."

With a flourish, Bita lifted the box top off and revealed a perfect cake. Happy Birthday Rodney was written in a rich blue, bordered by caduceuses and microscopes. There were even a few DNA strands here and there. Not particularly accurate, but cute.

"You like it? I know the DNA isn't perfect, but we went for style."

"I love it. Rodney will love it."

"Just wait until you cut it open."

The lunch party for Rodney's fiftieth birthday, a surprise at the office three days before, was cheerful. And when they cut open the cake to show blood red inside icing, everyone laughed. Bita was right, it was a fantastic cake.

Holly's enjoyment was short lived, as Ruth startled, picked up her phone and looked concerned. Ah. They had a call. "I'll take it, don't worry," she said to the crowd. "Happy birthday, Rodney."

"Thanks, Holly."

She took her cake (and a spare piece for Gail, who would ask), to her office and picked up the call. "Dr. Stewart."

"Oh... Hi, Doc."

The voice was unmistakable. "Swarek, where are you calling from?"

"Tucker's desk over. He's one of my new guys."

"Oh. That makes sense. How can my laboratory assist you today?"

"I wanted to ask about the inconsistency your guy noted in the Safary evidence."

Holly tapped her keyboard. "Let me pull that up. From the last bomb or the storage unit?"

"Kinda both. I'll wait."

There was a time when Swarek hadn't been all that patient. Holly quickly pulled up the files. "Okay. You're talking about the trace evidence?"

"Yeah, so we had those weird sand bits and the straw that was used inside the bomb, like he rested his material on it. And it's in all the bombs, even the dummies."

Holly frowned in thought. "Right."

"What'd we not find at the storage unit?"

"Sand or straw. What's your theory?"

Sam gave a deep breath. "It's gotta come from where he puts his bombs together. Obviously."

Biting her tongue, it took all of Holly's willpower not to sass back. She didn't mind Sam and the way he worked, but he had a tendency to be very obvious. "Okay," she said, carefully.

"I know, I know. It's basic. But it's 101. Same trace leads to home base."

Holly snorted a laugh. "Sorry, that's a cute rhyme."

"Right? So I was hoping someone could narrow down a cross ref of the sand and straw."

"No one has?"

"Nah, sand was too common. It's used in everything from golf courses to watermarks."

"That would put a damper on things," said Holly, agreeing.

"Thing that gets me is not a drop of it is at the storage."

That wasn't weird to Holly. "We didn't find any explosives at the storage unit either."

"Why not?"

Holly blinked. Why was Sam asking her that? Oh, well the obvious really. "It was climate controlled, but hard to secure. Of course, Safary uses some very stable materials with multiple backups. All we found at the unit was electronics, the kind he used for the secondary triggers."

"Was there anything that didn't match that kit?"

Now that was a good question. "Nothing that stood out on first glance, but I can go back through it if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate it. And... Any chance of getting a list of the sand and straw places..."

"It'll be incomplete. I'll get you a base though. You'll have to collect samples, and no, I'm not lending you a tech."

"No worries, I've got a couple of rooks you cleared for that."

"Well that's what rookies are for. I'll have a list sent up for you of places to concentrate on."

"You're the best, Doc! Thanks." And Sam hung up.

Leaning back, Holly skimmed over the case notes. Sand. Straw. That was weird. Safary was a large enough case that Holly really ought to keep closer watch on. Then again, Gail had handed it off to her own minions. Shouldn't Holly do the same. "Gail has more minions," said Holly aloud. There were more cops than lab rats. Always had been. That was why Gail had helped her push to get cops certified to take complex samples that would hold up in court.

She pulled up the list of rookies who were certified. One was, of course, her own daughter. Vivian took the extra courses at the academy on her own, not even asked by Holly or Gail. Gail would have asked. Holly never would. And Vivian, always, would consider her mothers. And her career.

Holly was not surprised to see her daughter was currently on loan to Swarek. So was Volk, who had certified for evidence collection the year before. "He stacked his deck, that asshole," Holly mumbled to herself.

She couldn't blame him.

* * *

"Horses?" Sam Swarek stared at her.

"You wanted sand and straw." Vivian grinned.

Narrowing his eyes, which privately Vivian thought was a feat for Swarek, the detective pointed at her and addressed Lara. "She always like this?"

Lara studied Vivian for a moment. "Creepy weird thinks sideways? Yeah."

"Horses?"

"Straw in the stables, sand in the indoor arena. Mix it with dirt, it drains better." She held out her tablet. "Mix it with _rubber_..."

Sam stared. "Rubber. You think it's not part of the padding for the bomb?"

"¿Por que no los dos?"

Slowly, slowly, the man pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, Peck. I take back what I said about you to your mother."

Oh? That was news to Vivian, but she just smiled. "What if the trace is because he's using the rubber from the sand mixture from the stables for filler? Most of it is dispersed or, in the case of rubber, melted into globs, when the bomb goes off?"

"Uh huh, and the sand is just trace?"

"Sure, they don't add a lot of that. But they have to add in rubber regularly to keep the dust down. Use an empty paddock to store it in."

Sam eyed her. "And this is on your list of places with sand and rubber?"

Lara nodded. "Also golf courses, baseball fields, and three recycling companies that make trash into playgrounds. The sand is used in the moulds."

"Uh huh," said Sam and he closed his eyes. "Alright. Show me these places on a map." Quickly Vivian pulled up the map on her tablet and showed him. "The red dots?"

"Every place with a match," said Vivian.

"Uh huh... Most likely is the .. Blue?"

"I think it's blue," said Lara. "Vivian thinks it's yellow."

"I think the horses are easier to work with than baseball."

Sam stared at her. "Okay, Peck, explain."

She took a deep breath. "It's March. People ride horses year round, but it's too rainy for baseball right now. Plus the grass needs treating before you spread the rubber and sand for the base path lining—"

"They make that out of the same mixture," said Lara, interrupting.

"Actually, it's more rubbery and clay, less sand." Vivian scowled a little. It had no impact on Lara, who apparently knew her too well. Damn it. Vivian just did not have Gail's ability to menace.

"Which matches the less sand they found in the evidence."

"You know that's not how bombs work."

Sam's cough cut them off. "Volk, can it for a minute. I asked Peck. You go next." Lara held her hands up, defeated but smirking.

"You need a place quiet and sturdy to build a bomb," said Vivian carefully. "There are four stables in the Toronto area that are undersold, considerably, and a few more that are insanely overpriced in order to keep low numbers. I left them off my short list, since they tend to have security over more than just the horses. These four stables, though, have minimal security. They went with low ball bidders all around, on everything except the stables and rings."

Reading the tablet, Sam asked, "Is that normal?"

Vivian shrugged. "Running a stable isn't really profitable for most people. It's a labor of love."

"Privilege," said Lara, under her breath.

"That too. Duncroft Stables here, they cater to middle class with aspirations of grandeur. They put up a good show, but they're losing out to the nicer stables on the outskirts. And three years ago, they lost their contract with the horse and buggy cabbies. Been hand to mouth ever since."

The detective nodded and read the notes again. "According to the data," said Sam, "there's a small flaw in your theory, kid. See, our guy. Safary? He's had the same kinda mixtures in his bombs for longer than your stables been using it."

Vivian smiled, trying hard to look like Gail at her most evilly brilliant, and was privately delighted that Sam startled. "I know. That's why Lara checked the dates for all the stables who did use it, any time in the last seven years, and matched it up to periods when they were under capacity."

"Okay. Not bad. Can you tie it to people?"

There she sighed. "We can't," said Lara, helpfully. "The grooms are often paid under the table." She paused and added, "That was my idea."

"So was the dates thing," Vivian pointed out. Lara was a way better detective than she would ever be, but picking out the best places based on bomb creation? That was all Vivian.

Sam nodded slowly. "Duncroft. Fits most of the bills nicely. Okay. We do horses. Arright. I'll go see what I can do. Finish running my numbers." Sam stood up and left the room.

After Sam left, Lara turned and mimicked him. "Ain't? Arright? Did we walk out of a movie?"

"Swarek," said Vivian, with a shrug.

"How long have you known him?"

"God, most of my life? He used to be the lead in homicide here, before Traci."

"Wow. Why'd he transfer?"

Vivian pursed her lips. "Interpersonal dispute."

Lara huh'd and they went back to matching. Technically they were supposed to use the computer, but that was only good for identifying known patterns. A computer only detected what it knew, it couldn't innovate or adjust outside its parameters. So practice was to let the computer match and then whittle things down by tweaking things.

When they'd been taught the process in the academy, someone had complained that it was the work of lab techs. Their instructor had made an example of the recruit, detailing out how the evidence collection units did a marvelous job evaluating and testing evidence. But at the end of the day, it was always people who had to interpret science. If a copper didn't understand how the system worked then they would never be able to work.

A cop, as Andy and Oliver told her constantly, had to trust their gut. They had a perspective a lab tech never could. They got out there, with the people, and they walked a beat. They drove a car and stopped to talk with citizens. They were an active part of the community. A constant representation of the fact that there were people willing to take bullets for them.

So a cop had to process and think and understand the evidence in the context of they world they'd seen. Because the cop saw the criminal as a person, not a number or a test tube or evidence. The cop understood the human and their motives and their lives.

They saw the big picture.

Lara interrupted her thoughts. "If it's interpersonal, how come they let him back?"

"He's a good cop, and most of the bombs are in his Division's territory," explained Vivian. All truth. He was just an ass.

"There's something else..."

"She's trying not to say he's my ex-husband," announced Andy, scaring the shit out of both of them. Swarek was standing beside her, sucking on a coffee. "Peck, you're a Peck. You can ride horses, right?"

"Um. Yes."

"Good. Volk?"

"I've seen a horse?"

Andy smiled evilly. "Congratulations. You two are going to take the equestrian training class, as soon as we have it moved to Duncroft Stables."

That was fast. Vivian's eyes widened of their own volition. "Oh. Okay. I'm the ringer?"

Swarek made a noise as he finished his drink. "Nah. You're the spy. Volk'll distract them with ineptitude. You just pass. Volk, you keep an eye on the grooms. Peck, you look for where you'd make a bomb. Get lost a couple times."

Generally not a problem, thought Vivian, reflecting on how much of a maze most barns tended to be. "Horses and spies, yes sir."

"Yippie ki-yay," muttered Lara.

* * *

The video was hilarious. Holly laughed so hard she was wheezing with delight. "How many times did she fall off?"

"Six." Gail grinned. When Vivian had sent her the video of Lara Volk failing at riding, she'd found it hysterical and saved it for her wife when they got home.

"Did they make any headway on their case?"

"Some. We weren't able to get them at the right stable, so Dov came up with a brilliant idea. They do a day or two of classes at a new one and then rotate."

Holly made a face. "Is that supposed to teach them anything?"

"Actually yes, learning on multiple horses is a great way to get comfortable around them."

Her wife made a soft sound and replayed the video again. "It occurs to me that I've seen Lisa and Vivian ride, but never you."

Gail blinked and pulled the marinating beef out of the fridge. "I have some videos. Mom digitized them."

"Your mother recorded them?"

"No, Dad did. For critique." Gail scratched the side of her head. "Mom kept them, though, which means something I guess."

Holly sighed. "I've started to forget that the Pecks have, historically, been assholes."

"Kinda nice, isn't it?"

"And sad." Holly kissed Gail's cheek. "They _do_ know Vivian can ride a horse, right?"

"Oh yes, that's why Swarek's so excited. She's his spy."

"Well. That seems alright." Her wife lingered at the fridge. "Is tonight beer or water or wine?"

"If I was Jesus, I could do all three."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Why do I put up with you? Water."

"That works." Gail turned on a burner. "Make a salad?"

"Only if you promise to actually eat it." Flipping her wife off, Gail seasoned her pan. Holly laughed and set the table. Their dinner was quiet, talking about little things of no concern or serious consequence. They caught up on non-work things. Holly had the idea of trying beer making, which Gail was all in support of since it had to be better than Dov's, and his was alright.

For her own part, Gail was enjoying having a break from things stressful. Excluding the oddity of her cases and the migraines of reassignments, she had nothing else pressing. No sports, no classes, no fretting about her kid. Just ... Living. And it may be simple and quiet and boring, but Gail felt she could use that for a change.

When the evening ended with them, comfortable on the couch, binge watching an ancient sitcom from the days when Gail was straight and Holly rattled around her empty townhouse. It was nice to just laugh and joke about things that didn't matter at all, just for a little while.

The mellow mood did not carry over into the next day, when Gail found herself in a meeting with Andy being shouted at about approving Sam's use of Vivian and Lara for the barn spying. Seabourn had been fine with it, and shouted right back at Wanger, the inspector at TwentySeven. The crux of Wagner's argument was that he was on the hook for paying and he didn't think that was fair.

Cross arguing, Seabourn pointed out that the two primary uniforms were theirs, and they'd only gotten one in return. That lead around to the constant arguments about recruitment being down, with Wagner on the side of letting more people in and Seabourn on the opposite of keeping up standards.

"Why don't we do a recruitment drive," said Gail, sipping her coffee. She'd timed her interruption carefully, waiting for that moment when both idiots were inhaling.

"What was that?" Wagner looked shocked.

"What was that?" Seabourn looked delighted.

"Oh like Chris and Noelle did!" Andy, at least, had a brain. "Abercrombie would sell, if he keeps his mouth shut."

Gail smirked. "Well if we were doing that, I'd say we should do a sexy calendar. No. I was thinking we go a little more multicultural. Traci, Mahala from ThirtyFour, Seth from K9, someone from ETF. Men and women. Show the variety of the jobs and the diversity of the force."

Wagner scowled at her. "No Pecks?"

"You're an ass, Wagner," Gail said back. He'd not been a Peck fan. "And Traci's a Peck."

"I mean no white ass kids."

"No, and no one interested in being a D. But none of that has to do with you being pissed off at McNally."

The man scowled more. "Horses are a waste."

"They don't come out of our budget." Gail put her mug down. "In fact, you get a bonus for the more people who passed the cert." She paused. Oh that was it. "And you gave us your slots, I see..."

Confused, Andy spoke up. "I don't."

"No one from TwentySeven is in this round of certs," said Seabourn, who did get it. "Both slots went to us."

Wagner threw a hand up. "Not that I have anyone to spare."

At least he was honest. "Stop being pissed at McNally for shit that isn't any of our faults." Gail finished her coffee. "Now. What's really up your ass?"

The room was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, Wagner laughed. "Damn it. I want to be pissed at you, Peck. Why the fuck aren't you the inspector?"

"I like actually solving crimes." Gail leaned back in her seat. "So?"

"So. This Safary thing." Wagner rubbed his face and eyed Andy cautiously. "Swarek's ... He's worrying me."

Andy's eyes widened. She seemed to get it. "Oh. Really?" When Wagner nodded, Andy turned to Gail. "Do you remember back when I screwed up the deal with Anton Hill?"

"Uh, no. Obsessing over Hound Dog wasn't my thing."

Her friend (shut up) rolled her eyes. "He was pissed when I blew his cover because he wanted Hill. Bad. And then your brother sorted out the Hill death, and he's been ... Ahab lost at sea."

That was incredibly deep for Andy, realized Gail. An interesting reference. Sam was obsessing over Safary. "How bad is it?"

"He's been a bit ... Agro," said Wagner softly.

Seabourn and Gail exchanged a look. Slowly Gail turned to look at Andy, whose face was set in an uncomfortable grimace. "Wagner, is that code for you think Sam's going to put two rooks in danger, just their careers, or some poor suspect."

Wagner made a hand gesture. "Last one."

Flippantly, Gail remarked the obvious. "He fucks up their careers, I'll let Sue blow his ass up. And the D's can take turns on what's left."

"Won't do it yourself?" Seabourn was amused.

"And get my hands dirty? Hah." Gail shook her head. "You're an idiot, Wagner. Next time just fucking well tell us."

The inspector puckered his face up. "Yeah, yeah. Now what?"

"Now let the grown ups handle it." Gail waved her hand and was pleased to see Wagner take it as a dismissal. Once he left the room, she turned to her classmate. "Andy, please tell me you slept with him or something so I know why he hates you."

"It's just Sam..." And Sam was at ThirtyFour because after he married Marlo, pretty much no one wanted to work with him at Fifteen. She and Andy sighed. "He wants to be the hero."

"He has a complex," said Gail, agreeing. "You think he transferred his passion over Anton Hill to the Safary case?"

"His partner, Kroft, died in the explosion with ETF."

No one needed to say which explosion. If they were talking about Safary and an ETF explosion, then they meant the one that had killed the lieutenant before Sue Tran. Time never stopped. Gail exhaled deeply and looked at Andy. Just yesterday they were fresh faced, idiot, rooks.

Seabourn sighed. "I feel old."

Nearly as one, Andy and Gail snorted. "Zeke, you're a puppy," said Gail.

Echoing Gail's earlier thoughts, Andy sadly asked a rhetorical question. "Weren't we young yesterday?"

"Sam wasn't," replied Gail, flippantly. The words were spoken before she could really think about it and how it implied things about Andy. Whoops.

But Andy laughed. "God, he was never young, was he?" She covered her mouth but the laughs kept coming. Gail smirked and tried not to, but ended up joining Andy in laughter. It was cathartic to some degree.

Finally, though, they sighed and shook their heads. "Should we warn the kids?" Gail toyed with the rim of her mug.

"No," Andy said firmly. "He's not going to put them in danger, and them being innocent will keep him in check. Sam was always more careful when rooks were attached to his detail."

Gail wasn't so sure, but nodded all the same. "Alright then. We'll do that."

She had to trust McNally on this one. No one on the force knew Swarek better than Andy McNally.

* * *

Blood. Bombs. Bullets.

It was an interesting rhythm as she repeated the words in her head over and over. Blood. Bombs. Bullets. Eyes closed, Holly let the words wash through her mind.

Blood. There was a degraded sample of blood found on a single piece of straw in the evidence collected from the antique shop. The blood was too compromised to serve as a comparison for anything at all. Not that they had anything to compare it to. Holly had called in a favor and sent it to a lab in the States.

Bombs. The mad bomber. Probably not mad. Safary's targets were all odd. And rare. But that was Gail's purview. Holly did her best to keep her nose out of that kind of theory. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Bombs were not her game either. The evidence was interesting though. Straw and rubber as packing material.

Bullets. That had been the oddest find at the Safary Cache. Bullet making equipment. Gail had remarked that even she didn't like making bullets. Oh she could do it, and had demonstrated the skill for pre-teen Vivian, who had been curious about what the grains meant, but it was dangerous work. The bullets were odd because they didn't fit. Except they did, actually. The same meticulous nature of someone who could make bombs would, in theory, be the kind of person who made bullets. Just ... Why?

"And open your eyes," said the instructor, startling Holly out of her thoughts. "Good. Shake out your arms and stand, slowly."

Holly darted a glance to her right, where Gail was slowly unfurling herself and standing gracefully. If Gail had noticed Holly's little zone-out, she didn't seem to care to mention it just then. Instead, Holly was surprised to see a deeply introspective expression yet mellow on her wife's face. Gail was still well up in her own head.

While Holly scrambled to get into her final pose, Gail just seemed to glide into it. Holly was jealous, oh yes. She'd never really seen Gail at yoga before, not real yoga, and the blonde had a hidden depth of athleticism. Even here at the beginner's class, Gail was amazing.

The instructor, a young woman probably Vivian's age, grinned at Holly as they finished. "So, how'd you like it?"

"It was ... interesting." The woo-woo aspect of yoga had, as Holly expected, been the hardest thing to get over. "It's more mental than I thought it would be."

Nodding, the instructor gestured at the students. "The first few times, getting into the meditation at the end is the hard part. You seemed to figure it out. Did you come up with a mantra?"

Holly flushed. "Oh, yes. Yes I did."

"Were you thinking about science?" The irrepressible smirk of her wife took the sting out of the words. "She usually thinks about science," said Gail.

This seemed to be expected by the instructor. "Well I don't know if your visualization of field stripping a pistol works for anyone else."

Gail rolled her eyes. "They're just unimaginative."

"How do you deal with the advanced class?"

Turning to Holly, Gail explained, "In the advanced class, you have to meditate by counting to 100 and not letting your mind waver. Which is insane the first time you try."

It didn't sound hard to Holly, but then again neither had the class she'd just taken. And in reality it had been very hard. "I'll stick to beginners for a bit," she decided.

"So you're coming back? Good. I'll see you again." The instructor beamed and walked off.

"Does she always flirt?" Holly frowned a little.

"Pretty indiscriminately, yeah." Gail pulled her jacket on. "Ready to go home?"

"I think so, yes. What are we doing for dinner?"

"I'll throw some chicken in. Pasta and fresh greens?"

"Sounds nice." Holly smiled and tugged on her jacket.

As they stepped out into the lobby, Gail's hand almost absently found hers and laced their fingers together. The blonde was very quiet, more than normal, as they walked to the car. By the time Gail got home from yoga, she was generally relaxed but chatty. Apparently right after was different. Holly followed her lead and said nothing.

They pulled up at their block and Gail glanced over. "You're quiet."

"You were quiet!" Holly laughed.

After a pause, Gail laughed too. "I was letting you process." They giggled as Gail parked in the garage. "I know it's not your thing, Holly."

Holly rolled her eyes. "It's quiet and calm and ... I like the energetic stuff."

"I know," said Gail, smiling. "But the point was to try it, try the calm."

With a sigh, Holly grabbed their gear and stashed the mats with the rest of their sports equipment. "I feel calm. Ish."

"Yeah? What was your mantra?"

Ugh. Of course she asked. "I was thinking about the Safary evidence."

Unexpectedly, her wife did not tease her. "So was I. Those bullets, they're weird."

Holly exhaled. "Wait, wait, wait. It's okay to think about work?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "The point is to clear you mind, relax, and stop stressing. It's not about not working." She waved a finger at Holly. "You should listen to Celery more."

"Not gonna happen." Holly followed her wife into the house. "I'll make the greens."

"Taking the easy route, huh, Stewart?" Gail laughed and slapped her butt.

Of course, that night Holly slept wonderfully. When she got to work, she burned through her morning paperwork faster than normal and, by lunch, found herself studying the structure of straw. The rubber was nothing more than used tires, cleaned and remotes into a better, safer, form, which was in turn shredded. They barely even made car tires out of dangerous material anymore.

The straw though, and the sand, were interesting. Both were common, but not something often found in winter. In spring, which was the last time sand like that had shown up in a case alongside the straw, it had been trace following a body that drowned in spring flooding. Holly remembered that case. A teenager, helping his family farm on the edge of the city, had gone missing during a storm. It wasn't until the rain ended and the waters receded that he'd been found dead.

It was Rodney who had done that autopsy. The boy had gotten trapped by the vey sandbags he'd placed to protect the crops. But still, Holly remembered the case well. The mixture of straw and sand had been odd enough that their first thought was it had to do with a murder in a stable. Instead, it was nothing more outré than coincidence.

Oh.

Holly tapped up the samples collected by the rookies. The straw was a match for barn but in a strange way. It was common enough. Most barns used it. But so did many antique shops. All they needed was a bomb at a barn to make it more solid. The sand though. If it was used for sandbagging, it would be the same as they found all over the city.

A wider pool of suspects was not what anyone needed. Holly needed to narrow it down. She put her sample results in a form and sent a request to evidence. Find all the sellers of sand that matched the sample. She knew they had that in a database. A second request was sent to Swarek, asking for him to start the paperwork on a warrant for a list of purchases of the sand. Also the straw. Who bought both.

It might work. It might still be too wide. The evidence would tell out.

* * *

There were things that Pecks knew before anyone else.

The first time Vivian learned that lesson, and the cost behind it, she'd been ten and a half. Gail had been missing, undercover, and Steve and Oliver had come by to tell her the truth about the situation and the danger. That had been her make or break moment, though she'd not really realized it at the time. That one choice, to know, had been what made her a Peck.

But the cost of that knowledge was no secret to her. The cost then was a full understanding of Gail's risks and what it would mean to her and Holly. The cost was not always on the same level of the knowledge.

Today Vivian knew, from her mothers, that the straw was little more than a coincidence. It wasn't part of the bomb but it _was_ part of the packing materials. It just so happened that the barn used the same kind. Same with the sand.

Swarek knew all that too, but that morning he'd just told them to keep an eye on the grooms.

Vivian sighed and kept the information to herself, brushing the horse.

"You're good at that," said their instructor. "Tell the truth, you ride?"

"No," Vivian replied (it wasn't a lie, she did ride anymore), glancing at Officer Copland. He was a little older than she was, maybe five years, and had what Lara insisted was a rakish grin.

"So..." He reached behind her and it took all of Vivian's willpower not to jump. She wanted to, but the horse would spook and it wasn't something a cop did. Still, Copland noticed and stepped back. "I didn't realize you were related to _the_ Pecks."

"Oh?"

"You have skin color."

Vivian smiled thinly, not offering her adoptive status. "I've been informed no one on their right mind voluntarily takes on the name."

Copland laughed softly and picked up a brush, walking to the other side of the horse. "You don't get a lot of Pecks here," he said casually, and started to brush the other side. "In fact... I don't know we have any."

"Not for forty years." Vivian scratched behind the ears of the horse, who was an absolute whore for the attention. "William James Peck was the last. 1988."

"Is memorizing Peck history a family requirement?"

Now Vivian smiled for real. "Yes. Actually."

"And here you are, doing horses. You're way better than Volk."

Ah. Vivian shook her head and let the horse rub his head against her chest. "Horses are better than people." A sentiment Gail had echoed. "I learned to ride when I was a kid."

"Aahhh! You're my ringer! I knew it."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Your ringer?"

"Yeah, even year some division sends in a ringer."

"I just wanted to see..." She paused. "Okay, honest? I want ETF, but..."

Copland winced. "Oh man, their budget is so fucked up right now. ETF huh? I didn't peg you as someone who runs into buildings."

Vivian shrugged and, when the horse butted her chest gently, kissed the animal's head. She got a nickering laugh in return. No one could convince her that horses didn't understand people. "Robots. I gotta thing for it."

"Pass the test?"

"Top of the rooks, but."

"But, yeah. Man, that sucks." He paused. "You think about anything else? Or just gonna wait it out on foot?"

Vivian gestured at the horse. That was her cover story. "Maybe."

"Oh." Copland eyed her. "You could do it. The technical stuff. But people."

Vivian frowned. "But people? That's a sentence fragment."

Copland smiled. "You don't get people. I mean ... You get that I'm hitting on you, right? Like I think you're smart and hot and I wasn't trying to trick you into applying."

What? Vivian stared at Copland for a moment. She had totally not caught on that he was hitting on her, actually, and felt actual shock. "Oh." She frowned. "Uh, not to burst your bubble there, but I'm seeing someone."

Copland deflated a little. "Oh. Shit." He ran a hand through his hair. "Serious?"

"Yeah. Pretty serious." How weird that felt to say. But she was serious about Jamie.

"I'm... I'm gonna go pull my foot out of my mouth," said Copland, his face red. "Sorry."

"S'alright." Vivian watched him leave and smirked. Oh Gail was going to laugh her ass off about that. Actually, so would Jamie and Holly. She'd have to tell them after the case was over.

There was a laugh from another stall. Vivian arched her eyebrows and turned around. "Are you really seeing someone?" A woman's voice. "Or are you just being nice?"

"I am," said Vivian, carefully.

A tiny woman popped her head into Vivian's stall. "Yeah? I thought you were blowing him off. Don't want to tell him you're a dyke?"

Vivian blinked. "What?"

"Look atcha," said the woman. She was dressed like a horse person. Paddock shoes, worn jeans, comfortable collared shirt, hair tied back. She was older than Vivian, but she had one of those faces that could be argued to be twenty five or fifty, depending on one's point of view.

Vivian looked down at herself. "You're one to talk."

And the woman laughed. "It's no secret."

"Not here either. He's just ..." Vivian shrugged. "Not clued in, I guess."

The woman smirked. "Guess it's good he's a horse guy and not a detective."

Vivian couldn't help but smile. "Ain't that the truth." She leaned into the horse until he sighed loudly and picked up a hoof. "Good boy."

"Not a lot of women can ride Bucky."

Bucky was his barn name, which Vivian found hilarious. The horse's show name was Sebastian, after all. Gail hadn't gotten the joke, but Holly had and giggled appreciatively. "Do you?"

"Me? No, just warmups. I'm just a groom."

"Lots of grooms ride." Vivian cleaned the hoof and moved on to the next.

"Not me. I just like horses. Better than people."

"So true."

The groom was silent for a while, leaving Vivian to finish cleaning the horse's hooves. She looked up and was not surprised to see the groom had left. Awfully silently for a groom, though. Vivian leaned on Bucky's back and frowned. Something about the conversation bothered her.

She was still thinking about it when the rest of the class came in. "How fucking early did you get here?" Lara scowled.

"Half hour. I was meeting Jamie for coffee."

"And how is the runner?"

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Fine." Patting Bucky's side, Vivian left him in his stall and followed Lara to her horse, Doc Holliday. Alas. His barn name was simply Doc. Keeping her voice low, she asked, "Have you met all the grooms?"

"Yeah." Lara started brushing Doc, poorly.

"Flick the wrist a bit," said Vivian, and she started to brush the other side. "Who's the short groom, maybe thirty? Female? Wears short boots."

Lara frowned and got thoughtful. "There isn't ... You sure it's a girl?"

"Thirty is hardly a girl."

"You thinking something's up."

Vivian bit her lip. "She's like a cat. Comes and goes. Lets herself in. Can you ask Copland who she is?"

"What? Me? Why not you!"

"He asked me out. It'd be awkward."

Lara laughed. "Brush Doc for me."

Vivian smiled and took over brushing the auburn horse. The sweet Doc was friendlier than Bucky, who tended to be skittish. As Vivian gently pushed the horse's head away from nuzzling her for the umpteenth time, Lara came back with news.

"There is no adult female groom or stable hand."

"Shit," muttered Vivian.

"Also Copland asked if I'm your girlfriend."

Vivian blinked and looked up. "What?"

"I know, right? Anyway. I'll tell Swarek."

Vivian sighed. She didn't like how Sam handled suspects. He was always so heavy handed. But. He was in charge.

* * *

"This is a cluster fuck," Gail told the trio.

"I'm the one who got kicked," snarled Sam.

The rookies said nothing.

Gail scowled. The phone call from dispatch had told her about a bomb at the barn where the rookies were training, and how it caused a stampede. One injury, a Sgt. Swarek, kicked square in the chest. He was lucky it wasn't a little lower down, though Gail might take care of that herself.

As she got the bits and pieces of the drama, Gail had been a little annoyed. Now she was just pissed off. Copland, the instructor, had explained that after Volk asked him about some mysterious stablehand, Swarek had shown up all gung-ho and angry. He'd questioned the staff, setting them in an uproar, until finally someone mentioned they'd seen a woman fitting the description, but she was a rider, not a worker.

Copland stressed he'd tried to calm Swarek down, since he didn't want anyone spooking the horses, but the sergeant had been arguing that Peck had wasted his time. Which was when the bang and the flash happened in an empty stall. Immediately after, the horses spooked and the mystery woman made a break for it.

And they'd lost her. Of course.

Gail scowled at the rookies but more at Swarek. The two rooks stood, a little hang dog, beside Swarek's bedside.

"Okay, run this by me again," she said to Swarek, who was still holding an icepack to his chest.

Sam glanced at the rookies on his left. "I played my hand too hard. Spooked her when I was arguing. She's either the guy or she works with Safary. She hadda know I was tipped on to her, cause she set up a flash-bang in the stall next to where she was hiding. When it went off, it spooked the horses. One of 'em nailed me as they bolted."

Rubbing her lower lip, Gail eyed Lara. "And you, Volk?"

"I was with the rest of the class. Copland told me to hold my horse and lead him out. The instructors had to calm them all down."

Silence. Gail simply arched an eyebrow at Vivian, who was doing a very good job of not looking at her mother. "I went after the horses in the stalls," said Vivian quietly. "Which is why Sgt. Swarek got kicked."

Gail sighed. "You two sit outside." She watched the rookies file out, Vivian not even daring a glance over. "Sam…"

"It was all me, Gail," he said firmly. "Peck and Volk both said I was coming on too strong."

"Really?" That didn't sound at all like either girl.

"Really. Volk was more direct. She said that a lot of the grooms and stablehands were illegals or undocumented, and pushing would make 'em run. Peck… She just gave me this look. Like Superintendent Peck used to give Frank." He tried to sit up and winced. "Fuck, horses hurt."

"You're not supposed to get between their hooves and anything." Gail sat down and looked at the wall. "You think that was her? Safary?"

Sam exhaled loudly. "Dunno. I expected her to be ... Smarter."

"How'd'ya figure?"

There was no reply and Gail turned to look at Sam Swarek. The man who had cut her tie looked thoughtful, which was not an expression she often saw cross his face. The hound dog faced man slowly canted his head at Gail. "Why would she be so chatty?" Sam sighed. "People talk to your kid."

"Funny, isn't it?" Gail rubbed her chin.

"Yeah," agreed Sam. "Marlo's gonna kick my ass."

"Why were you arguing with ... With Peck?"

Sam smirked. "Well. Aside from how I was wrong, since our mystery woman did blow up the barn, I thought her suspicions wasted my time, since the lab geeks got back to me about the sand. Coincidence."

"Nerds," said Gail absently. "They're nerds. And you thought she was right about the straw and sand too."

"I did." Sam grunted. "Sounded right. But it was sand from flooding bags. Did you know they used different kinds?"

She had not. "Not shocked that they do. It matched back to the same company. And the stray? Packing straw, has to be safe for the precious antiques." Gail huffed a laugh. "I guess I'm not surprised."

"Me neither. Rich people, rich straw."

Gail glanced at Sam. "Except you, no one got hurt," she said slowly. "I'll talk to the owner. And the rooks. You get better."

Sam laughed. "Miss me already?"

"Not a bit. But I have to take you off the case, you know that."

The man grunted. "Yeah. I know. I'm sorry."

Gail patted his thigh and said nothing more, walking out. The two rookies were seated across the hall, Vivian hunched and holding a paper cup in her hands, rolling it back and forth, while Lara had a soda. "So."

Both girls looked up. They were so young and it showed in that moment. Gail tried to remember what she was doing at that age and remembered she was volunteering to be an escort. Ah. Naivety. "Ma'am," said Lara, slowly. Vivian said nothing.

Putting her hands in her pockets, Gail studied the two carefully. "Peck... Why did Volk ask Copland about the woman if you were suspicious?"

"Copland was hitting on me," said Vivian, looking up with her eyes only. "I thought it'd be less weird."

Gail blinked. The instructor was hitting on her? Whoops. "Alright. And did you ever see her, Volk?"

"Yes, ma'am. I thought she was a boy."

"She was kind of boyish, ma'am." Vivian backed her partner up. As it should be.

Sighing, Gail nodded. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Vivian nodded, although Lara shook her head. After a moment, Vivian spoke. "The bomb, it was Safary. Same style as the one he— she did at the train station. Six years ago."

Of course her kid had studied the cases. But did it had to be that case? Gail remembered it right away. It had been a flash bang that went off and terrified hordes of people, causing a human stampede. When the crowd had been cleared out, a young man was found trampled to death.

The parallels were horrifying.

"The evidence will tell," said Gail, evenly.

And there she understood the guilt sitting on her daughter's shoulders. It was Vivian who had spotted the oddity in the woman. Vivian had raised the red flag. Vivian had been the one with the theory that landed them at the barn in the first place. Which meant that it was Vivian's fault that Sam had been kicked by a horse.

As much as the mother in her wanted to sit beside Vivian and tell her it was alright, Gail was Inspector Peck just then. And she had to be.

"You two go back to the station. Write up your reports. I want them by end of shift." She gestured and both rooks got up and went down the hall quietly.

That was part of the job that Gail hated. Being the supporting mentor was not her role, not now. It was never something Gail had been great at either. Even when she'd had a rookie, or a green D to train, she'd never been the coddling sort. How very strange to have it at odds with her maternal inclinations.

Gail ruthlessly shoved that line of thinking to the side as she drove back to the station. On the way, she asked dispatch to have someone bring the owner in for a little chat. Maybe there'd be something useful about the mystery woman.

* * *

It felt strange to knock on her kid's door. Normally they didn't go over to Vivian's and certainly never unannounced, but there Holly was, knocking. Unannounced. Unplanned.

"Coming!" That was a male voice. And not Christian. "Hello and welcome to the party," sang out Matty. "Oh hey! Hi, Holly! Viv, it's Dr. Mom."

Vivian's head poked around from the kitchen. "Mom! Hi. Matty, let her in."

Holly blinked as she walked in and found Christian, Lara, and Jamie all spread across the furniture. Two empty pizza boxes lay on the coffee table, along with several beers. "I guess I brought leftovers?" She held up a bag of Chinese.

"Thank god, I was about to order Thai," said Vivian, hopping around the counter to take the food. "Who knew being blown up at would give me Mom's appetite?"

From the couch, Jamie snorted. "We're going running in the morning. You do not have Gail's metabolism."

"Who does?" Holly rolled her eyes.

"Bite me," growled Vivian. She put the food down. "Want to eat with us?"

Quickly, Holly shook her head. "No, no. I just wanted to ..." She looked at the crowd of people. She'd wanted to make sure Vivian was okay after her day. That her kid was handling the stress of the bomb and saving the horses. "Well."

Vivian smiled at her, though. She knew. "How about I walk you to your car?" Before Holy could demure, Vivian turned to her friends. "I'll be right back. McGann, save me a beer."

"So bossy," said Jamie, but she was grinning.

They stepped into the hallway. "I'm okay, Mom," said Vivian and she closed the door.

"I don't mean to break up your party, honey."

"You're not," Vivian said. "I promise." She shoved her hands in her pockets, looking very much like Gail. "But ... Thank you for checking on me."

Holly sighed. "Well I just feel silly now."

"Moooooooom," drawled Vivian. She rolled her eyes to boot.

That was Gail, and Vivian, for 'don't be so silly, Holly.' It was adorable to see it from the grown up kid. "Yes, I am," said Holly, trying not to laugh. They walked down the hall to the stairs. "Can I mom you?"

Vivian smiled at her. It was the sweet, shy, smile of the girl who wanted a hug and didn't know how to ask for one. And just like then, Holly reached over and hugged her around the shoulders. Of course, unlike then, Vivian had to go down a step in order for Holly to properly reach her. "Thanks, Mom," she said softly.

"You had to go and get tall, didn't you?"

"I ate my veggies." Vivian sighed and didn't squirm as Holly squeezed her. She never did with Holly. The hugs seemed to be not just allowed but welcomed.

Holly sighed as well. "It's funny," she said, letting go and looking at the ruddy face of her daughter. "I remember the first time you hugged me."

Arching her eyebrows, Vivian said, "I do too. You were in a wheelchair."

"I was exhausted." Holly wrinkled her nose and Vivian laughed. "You sure you're okay?"

"Oh, just the usual crippling guilt and doubt of if I just made one of Mom's friends retire." Vivian was flippant Gail at her best. Self-deprecating and eye-rolling.

She tweaked Vivian's nose. "Sam was old when he was young, honey. You saved the people and the horses."

"I know," said Vivian, a little darkly. "But I'm a cop. I'm supposed to serve and protect."

"And you did. Just because it wasn't what Sam wanted doesn't make it wrong. Okay?" When Vivian mumbled a 'yeah,' Holly poked her ribs. "Talk to Elaine about it, will you?" If anyone would know, it would be Elaine Peck. Vivian nodded. "Good. And I think you did the right thing, saving the horses."

Vivian smiled a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sam's a grownup." Holly paused. "And maybe this is payback for nearly giving me a concussion that one time."

"Wow, that's bitchy." But Vivian was grinning the same, dark way that Gail and Holly did. "I'll call Elaine tomorrow."

"Okay." Holly patted Vivian's cheek. "Go hang out with your friends, honey."

The tall woman nodded, kissed her mother's cheek, and went back to her apartment. Holly sighed loudly and walked back to her car. She wasn't upset at all. Actually she was quite pleased to see that Vivian had somehow managed to successfully navigate a bad day recover with her friends. This was the sort of thing she'd always hoped for, but always doubted.

It just felt odd to be left out a little. She was still dwelling on that when she got home and surprised her wife.

Gail looked over from the kitchen as Holly walked in. "That was fast. Kid okay?"

"Kid has friends over." Holly smiled and hung up her coat. "How's Swarek?"

"Benched for now. Marlo was telling him off when I left." Gail sighed and leaned on he kitchen counter for leverage, getting a bowl from an upper shelf. "I'm gonna lose him and Frankie soon."

"Maybe not Frankie. She has that 'I need to feel wanted' thing, you know." Holly pulled out a stool and watched Gail toss vegetables into the bowl after she sliced them. She never got tired of watching Gail cook, though it had taken a while to understand that Gail didn't generally want to be talked to while cooking.

As soon as the food was in the pan and simmering, Gail swung her towel to her shoulder and leaned back, looking at Holly thoughtfully. "Her friends are at her place."

"Mm. Jamie, Matty, Christian, Lara. I got the impression Jenny may come by. Even Rich was there earlier."

Gail made a face. "I'm supremely disappointed our child is friends with Abercrombie."

"She saved his life. Apparently he's got a thing."

"Good to know he's not totally worthless."

Holly smirked. "He hit on me."

"Please, that just proves he has eyes." Gail rolled her eyes, dismissively, but Holly saw the sass and amusement behind it. Her wife expected everyone to find Holly beautiful, after all.

"I am incredibly sexy for fifty-eight," said Holly.

Gail grinned. "Speaking of which, birthday?"

"Cabin?"

"Done and done." Gail beamed. "Next year, though..."

"Back to Greece, I know." Holly laughed at her wife. She wasn't sure they would, to be honest. She wasn't sure she wanted to. Maybe after she retired. "Should we bring the kid?"

"No, no I don't think so. She's old enough to go in adventures with her own sexy girl."

Holly made a face. "Ew. Don't talk about Jamie like that."

"What? She's all muscle, Holly! At least she can keep up with our jock."

Smiling, Holly recognized her wife deflecting. Given that Gail had gone to the hospital twice, it wasn't hard to see. "So. How bad was the case?"

"They may have found Safary, so your mileage may vary."

Holly would have dropped her glass, if she'd been holding one. "What...?"

"The bomb is a match to the form Safary uses, and there's this." Gail picked up her tablet and pulled up a photo.

The pit of Holly's stomach fell out. In black Sharpie was the word — the name — Safary. "Is that a railing?"

"Hmm. Yes. Part of the divider in the stall. Metal." Gail shook her head. "Kind of a sick fuck, isn't she?"

"We don't have any evidence that it's her. She could be his mom or ... Something."

Gail shook her head. "Remember what you told me about theory?" She didn't wait for Holly to speak and just went on. "First you perform an experiment to get evidence. Then you repeat it and compare the data points until you can connect the dots and make a theory based on the evidence."

"I seem to recall this," Holly said, smiling.

"The big thing, the part I liked, was when you said the theory with the least assumptions, the least complications, was probably the right one. And you drew the hexagon, and then a circle."

Holly frowned. "How drunk was I when I did this?"

"Oh you were loaded up at the cottage." Gail smirked. "Do you remember why you drew the circle?"

Of course she did. "The circle was reality, the hexagon was our theory based on the data points. And the point wasn't to be right but to be _more_ right."

Gail got out plates. "Exactly. So my data points are a lot of bombs, a sighting, a bunch of graffiti, and an interview with the barn owner who said our mystery woman was actually riding in lieu of payment. She sells sand."

Jesus fuck. "So you've got her? Or is it a shell company?"

"Oh, of course it's a shell company," said Gail, laughing morosely. "Fake ID's and the whole ten meters."

"Nine yards, and you know that." Holly sighed. "So we're no closer?"

"We're a lot closer. Viv and the stable hands gave us a good description. We know she's a Caucasian female, claimed to be 43 which Viv said was plausible, short brown hair that is dyed lighter. Roughly five-two in riding boots. No visible scars or tattoos. The fact that she likes horses and is knowledgeable enough to ride implies she comes from the middle class. Also... She has a fancy ass cell phone."

The last was interesting to Holly. "How do we know that?"

"One of the stable hands. She dropped it once and he brought it over to her. Said he'd never seen one that thick, and she was always playing with it. He looked over photos and picked out one of those build your own Android things."

"Well. That's interesting." Holly sighed. "I really don't know how you stand this part, collecting all the information without enough context."

Her wife smiled. "Same reason Steve likes secrets, I guess. I like hoarding information like this."

"And yet you still suck at trivia." Holly grinned at the annoyed expression on Gail's face. It was still fun to tweak her a little bit. "What happens next?"

"Next. Sam gets dinged for shouting around horses. Viv and Lara get dinged for pissing off their supervising officer. Then they get praised for saving the horses and people. I take over Safary, since Chloe's swamped with a drug smuggling and Sam's in no shape for it." Gail grunted and scratched the nape of her neck. "That fucking idiot. He gets so damned obsessive."

Holly couldn't really argue that. Sam wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to cases. He took them personally, just as he did slights like someone being able to hit his curve ball, and he overreacted. Of course he'd apologized about nailing Holly at the ball game all those years ago, but it had a detrimental affect on his relationship with Gail, who had never really forgiven him.

She looked up at her wife thoughtfully. "You haven't gotten really mad in a while, honey," Holly said at length.

Surprised, Gail started to plate dinner. "Really? I sure feel mad sometimes."

"You don't snap out."

Gail looked guilty. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Hey, I mean this as a good thing. You've evened out." Holly slid off her stool and walked over to take a plate and kiss Gail's cheek. "You're handling life better."

Disparagingly, Gail remarked, "It's been twenty years. I'd sure hope so."

"Sam doesn't."

The simple truth caught Gail off guard and she eyed Holly with actual, deep, shock. Both Gail and Sam had raised daughters, and both were obsessive cops who carried their work home in their minds and hearts. Both were abused as children (though Gail would argue that she wasn't, mental abuse was still abuse). But it was Gail who had smoothed herself out over the years, shifted to making better decisions for her own mental health, and for her family.

Sometimes it was a wonder.

"Oh," said Gail quietly.

Sensing her wife was uncomfortable with the direction, Holly asked, "Can I change the topic?"

"God, yes."

"Are we going to the concert on Friday?" There was a performance of classical romantic music that weekend, and while they'd not discussed it, they often went on a whim. That was the best part of season tickets.

Weirdly, Gail smirked. "No. Our daughter asked for the tickets for her birthday." And the smirk got wider. "She's taking Jamie."

Holly blinked. "She's taking her girlfriend to a night of romance... Oh my. She should borrow a car."

"Unlike me, she can ride in a taxi, so I expect she'll do that. I did recommend it."

That was one of the awesome things about Gail, realized Holly. She had the awareness now to know that her issues were no one else's. Over the decades, she'd gotten over her terror of other people in taxis, though not herself. Vacations were tricky, since they always had to rent a car. But at least now she stopped panicking when Holly or Vivian took the occasional ride.

"You are a good mother, Gail Peck."

Her wife grinned, cheekily. "I am awesome."

* * *

The plan was to meet at the show.

At the last minute, Vivian called a car instead. She was dressed as dapper as possible without being, as Matty called it, a butch young thing, and pulled up to Jamie's apartment building about five minutes before she knew Jamie would be rushing out the door. But the car... She just knew a car was the right way about it, so she called Ridez and set up a two stop trip.

At three minutes till, with a stern reminder to the driver to wait, she rang the doorbell to Jamie's apartment.

"God damn it! Coming!"

That was Jamie's voice. Vivian smiled, picturing the annoyed look on her girlfriend's face. She was not picturing Jamie in a dress, and was therefore not surprised to see her in pants. And yet what the door opened to reveal was a vision. "Wow."

Jamie wasn't even looking. "Look, I'm sorry, Ruby's not here, and I'm kind of in a ... " Trailing off, Jamie finally looked at her. "Viv. You... A bow tie?"

"I let Matty dress me," she replied, looking Jamie up and down.

The firefighter was in a simple, sleeveless top that had the style of Matty all over it, complete with a plunging neckline. She was wearing black slacks that made her look taller. Oh, no, that was the heels. The heels made her legs look even more powerful, and the pants and form fitting shirt showed off curves Jamie tended to disguise in roomy clothes. "You look incredibly fancy," said Jamie, threading in an earring.

She was wearing earrings.

"You look... Wow."

Jamie blinked. "Really? This is all it takes to make you stupid?"

"Apparently." Vivian jiggled her head. "I. Car. Right. I have a car. I thought we could go together." She pointed over her shoulder at the waiting car.

Smirking, Jamie nodded. "Okay. Let me get my jacket and purse."

Vivian exhaled and tried to catch her brain. Holy crap, she was definitely, totally, absolutely queer.

It made it hard to concentrate on the music. The concert was beautiful, romantic and melancholy at the same time. Love, wrapped around a reminder of life. The juxtaposition of pain and suffering to the warmth and tenderness. A cello and a violin, a flute and the piano. The drums. The hand of a woman in her own.

Everything was even better.

No wonder her mothers loved going together.

When the opera ended, they waited for the crowd to clear out. Jamie holding onto her hand, making comments on the various people. Especially about how many had worn jeans or casual clothes. They slowly walked through the hall, Vivian pointing out various details in the decorations, stopping to say hello to various ushers who asked about her mothers. And then, finally, when the hordes were nearly gone, she looped Jamie's arm through her own and called a ride with her watch.

They rode in silence, hands touching across the seat, stealing little looks. Vivian felt like an incredibly nervous teenager. Jamie though, she too looked shy and coquettish, giving Vivian looks from under her lashes. Hand in hand, they walked up the wide staircase to the top floor.

As Vivian took her keys out, she was slightly surprised by Jamie leaning against her. "C's working, right?"

Vivian felt her face heat up. It only got worse when Jamie hooked her thumbs through the loops on Vivian's waist. The front loops. "Yes, yes he is." God, Vivian hoped her voice didn't sound as strangled as it felt.

"Good." And Jamie leaned her entire weight against Vivian. Holy crap. She could feel Jamie's boobs against her back. "You okay with the key there?"

"No," said Vivian honestly. "I'm so glad we've already had sex." She managed to get the key in and unlocked the door.

"I would never tease you about not knowing how to use your hands," said Jamie, teasingly. She nudged Vivian inside and let go, closing and locking the door. "Christian!"

Vivian blinked. "He's not here."

"Go check." Jamie leaned against the front door and smiled.

It was a strange request. "Ooookay." Vivian eyed her girlfriend and walked past the kitchen to the second bedroom. She rapped on the door before opening. "Nope, no roommate. And the bathroom there is open and he needs to clean his room..." Vivian turned around, tugging the door closed again. "Happy?"

Jamie smiled and nodded, crooking a finger. "Very."

Swallowing, Vivian walked back to the front door. Jamie reached out and took hold of her jacket lapels, pulling her in slowly to kiss. Oh. This was why her moms couldn't keep their hands off each other after a night out. Spending hours in public with a beautiful woman, knowing she wanted the same thing. And the music... Gail was totally right about that.

She could forget time and everything, kissing Jamie like that. The warm hands under her jacket, undoing her vest and untucking her shirt. Her own hands mapping curves that normally didn't exist with clothes still on. Nothing mattered outside the moment and them. Vivian hardly cared that they were still dressed, if she could just hold Jamie and kiss her like that forever.

But there were clothes and there was so much more beyond clothes that she finally pulled herself away. Holding both of Jamie's hands, she led her down the hall and up the few steps to her bedroom. In there, in the nearly dark, their world was lit only by street lamps filtered through stained glass.

And in the room there was heat and fire and clothes discarded in a way that would probably make Matty complain. Or not. Vivian didn't care. Her world was one other person just then, and that was as it should be. Jamie's skin and muscles and teeth and that spot where she was ticklish, which was right near another spot that wasn't ticklish at all. And God, yes, Vivian wasn't going to stop.

She did, of course, but not until Jamie was ready. When she did, she lay alongside her girlfriend, smiling, and felling terribly indulgent. Vivian smiled, admiring the long muscles and toned skin of the woman beside her. There were a lot of muscles. The arm muscles were particularly fascinating just then. She also liked Jamie's strong back, the shoulders and arms. The way there was a divot thing above her hip bones. Her six pack...

"You look very happy," said Jamie, her voice soft and still a touch breathless.

"I am happy."

"I expected smug after that."

"Hm. I'm not a very smug person."

Jamie squinted up at her. "No. You're not." Languidly, the firefighter stretched and reached up, touching Vivian's shoulder and collarbone. "You should be. Smug. That was amazing."

"I'll keep that in mind." Vivian shifted her weight to lean in and kiss Jamie again. The gravity of the smaller woman drew her in again, oozing ever towards each other. Strong fingers dug into her shoulder and Vivian knew it was a matter of moments before she'd find herself on her back, looking up at the face of a woman who could and did look smug. Often.

But there were a few moments before that. A few seconds where she could drink in everything that was Jamie Lynn McGann. A short, brief, instant to savor the woman who asked her out by slipping Vivian her numbers via Christian at a crime scene. Vivian grinned as Jamie started to push at her, gently but insistently.

Maybe this was what it was, what it meant, to really care about someone. It was so simple, so obvious. This was it, and it was easy to just care for a person enough to trust them. Vivian wasn't really sure she knew what love was. Oh she said the words to her mothers, and she felt they hung the moon. But real understanding about what love was? No idea.

It bothered her, that lack of understanding. Was it like cuddling, and something Jamie wouldn't care about? Or would it manifest in an unforeseen way and result in a break up? Would Jamie hold a match as Vivian confessed her feelings, assuming she ever could, and burn her soul, or would she wrap Vivian in a blanket and protect her?

The words didn't seem right to say. Not then at least. And maybe it was okay if she couldn't say it in words, if she could show it somehow.

Closing her eyes, Vivian leaned back and trusted.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter? Much less comfortable for Vivian. But this one there's some trust.
> 
> The next chapter is the first of a series of pretty dark chapters, actually. Bad things start to happen and when they do, they just all pile on each other, peaking with a resonating, painful, but possibly NOT shocking death.
> 
> Got a guess who? I know a couple of you have ideas. At least one of you is right.


	25. 03.04 - The Kids Are Not Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwelcome personal visit causes Vivian to reevaluate her family dynamics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just going to start hard and go hard all the way through. Hold onto your hats. This chapter is not happy. At all.

"Peck, someone at admit is asking for you."

Vivian blinked at McNally. "Me?" She tucked her shirt in and buckled up.

"Yeah, you. Don't cause me a headache, okay?"

"Yes ma'am, Staff Sgt. McNally." When Vivian saluted, Andy grinned. The promotion to Staff had been a surprise to Andy. Unexpected totally. But Andy was a good choice and she deserved the promotion. Even if Gail had been teasing Andy ever since.

Trotting out to the desk, Vivian smiled at the young woman standing there talking to Christian. The woman spoke before Vivian could. "You're Vivian ... Peck?"

"Yes, ma'am. Can I help you?"

The woman's eyes looked her up and down. "Jesus... You look just like..." She shook her head. "Sorry. I'm Lindsey Strong."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Strong." The woman was acting like Vivian should know her, which was odd. She didn't look familiar, and while Vivian did not have Gail's memory, she was usually pretty good about faces. "Do you ... Do you need something?"

"Wow. You have no idea?"

"I'm sorry... Have we met?"

Lindsey Strong sighed. "My mother, April...?" Her eyes flickered around Vivian's and curiosity and confusion drove Vivian to study the face before her more closely. The eyes were the hazel-brown, just like Vivian's. But that was pretty common. Same with brown hair and brown skin. "I'm ... I'm your cousin."

Some of Gail's favorite words popped into her mind. What the what? "Sorry… What are you talking about?" She only had the one cousin, Leo, and the woman before her was very much not him. Traci and Steve had never had children, but that didn't seem to bother anyone. And this woman didn't look like any Peck she'd seen. Or a Stewart.

The woman, Lindsey, frowned and cleared her throat. "My mother, April... She used to be April Green."

The name washed cold water over her. Vivian felt her face grow slack. The memory of Gail's face being wiped of emotion came back to her. She probably looked like that. There was a funny ringing in her ears. She didn't have a cousin. She didn't have an aunt. She'd been an orphan with only her psychotic grandparents left, and they were dead a decade and more now. "I'm sorry," she said slowly. "I think you have the wrong person."

Vivian knew she was lying the minute she said it. Because the minute Lindsey said her mother's maiden name, things clicked. The eyes. They had the same eye color. Hazel. Common. But they had those flecks, those weird markers that Holly had told her was probably hereditary. Vivian had said she'd never seen anyone else with them and Holly had sat with her, going over the medical tomes to explain why. That nose too, that nose was the one she saw in Kimmy's photo … Jesus Christ. The skin, the eyes, the nose, the hair, the face.

Her cousin.

Lindsey was firm. "No, no you're Vivian Lydia Green. Your parents—"

No. No. No. Not here. In fact, not ever. "Like I said," she snapped. "You have the wrong person. I'm Vivian _Peck_ , and my parents work here."

The fierceness of her reply had Lindsey act like she was slapped. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I don't… I just need a favor. Please."

She laughed. She didn't mean to, but that was what happened. Out of fucking nowhere, her cousin showed up and now she wanted a favor. "Look, I'm sorry you came all this way —"

"Barrie. We live in Barrie."

She really didn't care. "I'm not who you're looking for. Excuse me."

Without waiting for a reply, Vivian turned to go back into the Division. Her hands were shaking and everyone was looking at her.

"Hey, Viv…" Christian started.

Vivian ignored him and went for the stairs, charging up them in the hopes it would calm her brain down. When she hit the third floor, she stopped and leaned against the wall, breathing harder than she should for the short distance.

A cousin.

An aunt.

What the actual fuck was going on?

Her mind was spinning. Vivian wanted to charge into Gail's office and shout at her. Why the hell wouldn't they have told her about this? The problem was she'd spent most of her life with Gail and Holly and she knew there had to be a good reason. They'd answered every single question she'd had. They'd insisted on keeping medical records and photo albums. Things Vivian had never once looked through.

No, the answer to why they hadn't told her was simple. Either it was just because she'd never asked, because they couldn't tell her, or it was because her aunt didn't want to talk to her. And they didn't want to hurt her. But it did. Oh it cut and flayed her alive.

Why did that hurt more than knowing her grandparents were abusive pricks? And it did. It was like being shot. The wind was sucked out of her. She slid down the wall and sat on the cold concrete, gasping and trying to calm her breathing. Trying not to cry. There was that old fear. The one that made her shout 'you're not my mother' at Holly. The fear that no one wanted her. Vivian buried her face in her hands and inhaled thickly. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like it's a panic attack, right? In. Out. Calm down.

She didn't know how long she sat there. Probably right through Parade. Footsteps on the stairs finally got her to look up. Lara and Jenny.

Vivian shook her head and covered her face again. No. Here was every fear coming home to roost. The world was going to look at her like a sad, tragic little girl. Her friends were going to abandon her.

That wasn't what happened.

The two girls, her classmates, sat on either side of her. They didn't touch her, not directly, but they sat close enough that she could have turned one way or the other to cry on them. And they just waited. They let her calm down and guarded her, in case anyone else showed up.

Finally Vivian mumbled. "Thank you."

"I told Andy you were having a personal crisis," Jenny said first.

Lara added, "And I told Christian to keep it to himself and not call your mom."

"Threatened," corrected Jenny. "She threatened to tase him in the junk."

Vivian snorted a laugh. "Thank you," she managed to repeat.

The other girls didn't try to hug her. They didn't ask what the hell was going on. They didn't offer advice. Lara gently patted Vivian's upper back while Jenny squeezed her knee. Finally, Jenny spoke. "It's no one's business who you're related to."

Of course Jenny got that. Her father was still a half-secret at Fifteen. Even Gail had been surprised to find out, and clammed up right away. There was always more to a secret.

"Family's complicated," said Lara.

Lara, who lived with a step mother and her second husband. Who hadn't seen her birth father since she was an infant. Whose mother was dead. There was also always more to family.

"Thank you," said Vivian, her voice a whisper.

Maybe she wasn't so different from them after all.

"We're supposed to be on patrol." Lara hesitated. "Do you need us to call anyone?"

Yes. "No," she said carefully. Liar.

If her friends (was this what friends did?) knew she was lying, they let it go and told her to call them if she needed anything. Lara left travel kleenex when they headed out for patrol. It took a little longer for Vivian to collect herself. She blew her nose and then snuck into the third floor bathroom and washed her face.

There were right things and wrong things to do right now.

She texted her mother. She texted the mother who would tell her the unvarnished truth no matter how much it hurt. She texted Gail.

_I need to talk to you._

And she waited. Gail had a busy job. So did Holly. They always replied as soon as possible, though, and they were always there when she needed them.

_Scale of one to 10, where 10 is Ebola?_

That meant Gail was busy with a case. Vivian chewed her lip. There were options. This could wait till later. They could discuss it tonight. Vivian could cancel her date with Jamie (crap, she was going to need to talk to Jamie) and go over to her parents house and talk. That would be a three or a four. This wasn't... She sighed and thumbed a reply.

_Having a surprise aunt is a 9_

She wasn't going to be any good at all at work today. She wasn't sure how coherent she was going to be able to be to her mother.

_5 minutes. I_ _'_ _m meeting a CI downtown._

Well shit. Now she felt bad. But. Gail didn't argue that it wasn't a nine. That felt good and bad.

_I_ _'_ _ll wait in your office. Take your time._

She'd really never been so grateful that there were so few women on the third floor. Shoving her hands in her pockets, Vivian walked through the floor. She paused at John's empty desk. He still hadn't retired. He kept threatening to but that had stopped after Bethany's body had been found. Vivian was sure he would, like Griggs before him, die with his boots on.

Griggs had been found dead at home, sound asleep in his bed. When he hadn't shown for work, shortly after Gail had taken over OC, the division had worried. Griggs was never late without a great story and he never was late without calling. In the end, Gail had gone herself to check on him. Afterwards, she said it was just a gut feeling. He'd not been feeling well, he'd said. He'd been tired and grey. And then he just died in his sleep, peacefully. His three ex-wives had put aside their differences for the funeral, asking there be no final call, and donating the money afforded to them to the force's retirement fund instead.

Her mother's office was also empty and Vivian closed the door behind her. No one would question her. They never did. Peck. The name opened doors for her all over Toronto. The name let her get away with anything she wanted, within reason. That was her name. Vivian Peck. Not Green.

More than five minutes passed before Gail arrived. "John, just take care of it," she said firmly. "I need… I need you to do this. Okay?" John's reply was a surprised apology and a question Vivian couldn't hear. "Later." Gail stepped inside and turned around. They looked at each other and said nothing as Gail closed the door and locked it. She carried two coffees on a tray and handed Vivian one as she sat beside her on the couch. "So."

"I have an aunt?"

"You do." No hiding it. Gail never would. As much as she was livid right now, Vivian appreciated the fact that Gail was honest with her.

"April. Stone. And you knew. You both knew."

"Yes."

Vivian looked at the coffee cup. "Why?" She didn't have to ask specifically. She knew Gail would understand. Why had she never heard of this woman before.

Her mother sighed loudly. "She signed … When you went into the system, she did two things. First off she told them that your grandparents were assholes who beat your father, which is why they never got custody of you, even temporarily." That surprised Vivian and she blinked at her mother. It also explained a lot, including the confusing fear of people she barely remembered. "The other. She signed a voluntary termination of rights for you." Gail's eyes were guarded.

"She, what, gave me up?" Termination of rights meant her aunt wasn't going to even try to take her niece in. "Was… Was she on drugs or something?"

"No." Gail sipped her coffee. "She … She signed you away, said she didn't want custody or responsibility. And then she said she never wanted to be contacted. It's a pretty binding thing. She wouldn't contact you either."

Vivian snorted. "Apparently that didn't hold for my cousin."

Her mother looked surprised. "Your cousin?"

"Yeah, Lindsey. She showed up downstairs, looking for me."

Gail looked like she'd just bitten into a lemon. "I'm sorry."

Slouching, Vivian ignored the bite of her belt against her side. "Why didn't she come to the funeral?"

"April ran away when she was 18. Made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with her parents. They just left her out of the will." Gail leaned back. "We did contact her, actually. Twice."

It was difficult to process that information. Her aunt wanted nothing to do with anyone named Green. Vivian could understand that. She felt the same way. "When they died?"

"And when we adopted you. We wanted to offer her a chance, y'know, without the other bullshit." Gail waved a hand dismissively. "That and my lawyers got on my ass about how the thing she signed didn't protect you from her changing her mind, and since you inherit everything from me and Holly, they didn't want you getting ripped off later."

That was interesting. Vivian grimaced. "And she said no both times? What the hell happened? I mean… I didn't do anything."

Gail shook her head. "I asked about that." There was a look to Gail's face that implied she'd probably been a bit aggro about it.

"You met her?"

"No. I asked the lawyer," admitted Gail. "I've never seen her."

For some reason that made Vivian feel better. "What'd she say?"

"She said it was that she didn't want to be reminded of your father. I have the letters at home if you want to read them."

Vivian shook her head. Then she nodded. "Maybe. I don't know." She grimaced. "Do you have everything?" When Gail nodded, Vivian felt a little sick. "Did you know... Did you know I saw it?"

There was, again, no need to say what 'it' was. "I suspected for a long time," confessed Gail. "But I didn't know for sure until you remembered and told us."

Her hands were starting to shake again. Vivian put the coffee down and clenched her fists on her thighs. "Oh."

Gail's hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach over. Instead she asked, "Did you ask what she wanted? Your cousin?"

"No." At Gail's arched eyebrow, she sighed. "I told her she was looking for the wrong person and ... I stormed out."

Gail frowned. "Viv. I really doubt she came out of the woodwork for something stupid."

"Don't care," muttered Vivian. Which was a lie. She did. She was just angry and uncomfortable and confused. Hurt. She was in agony. "Who the hell does she think she is? Coming out of nowhere, busting me at _work_ in front of everyone? Fucking psycho."

Her mother sighed loudly. "That wasn't kind."

"Haven't you heard? I'm a bitch," said Vivian bitterly.

"No, I'm a bitch, you're just hurt and lashing out." Gail got up. "You need to eat something."

"Food isn't the answer to everything, Mom." Vivian lay down on the couch.

"Did you get her number?" Mumbling a no, Vivian covered her face with her hands. "Who worked desk?" She didn't answer. "Christian, huh?"

Vivian pulled one hand off her face. "I hate you. How do you do that?"

Holding out a yogurt, Gail smiled. "I've been a cop your entire life, tiny annoying one. I got skills. Eat please. Your blood sugar is for shit." With a sigh, Vivian took the yogurt and dug in. It meant she didn't have to talk. "What are you going to do?"

"Call in sick the rest of the day?"

Gail tilted her head. "I'd recommend it. But I meant about your cousin."

"Hate you," muttered Vivian. She pulled her phone out. "I am texting Christian to ask if she left her information."

"Good. Would you like me to tell your mother?"

Vivian nodded. "Thanks." Her phone dinged and she looked sourly at it. "She left an envelope."

Gail handed the coffee over. "Drink this. Go downstairs and change. Tell McNally you're not feeling well. Get the envelope. Go home."

"What if she asks?"

"Andy won't. She will take one look at your face, send you home, and then come up and swear at me, asking if I fucked up with Holly." Gail sighed, a little wearily. "No, I won't tell her what happened."

"Thanks," said Vivian softly.

It was good advice. Instead of going home, though, she went to her parents house. Gail said she had all the information about Vivian's family. That meant she had all the confidential information too. The things Vivian wasn't really supposed to know or read. But Gail had them, and that meant she expected Vivian to want to know one day.

Apparently today was the day.

Kicking her boots off downstairs, Vivian ran up to her childhood bedroom and tossed her jacket and the envelope on the bed. Then she went into the office and stared at the file safe. If they were anywhere, they were in the safe.

Option one, ask her mother for the password. Option two, crack the safe. She pulled her phone out and texted Gail for the safe's password. The reply was so fast, Vivian knew Gail was waiting for it. She opened the safe and found multiple accordion files. One for Gail, one for Holly, one labeled "Peck/Stewart Trust" and one with her own name on it.

It was easy to retreat to her old room with the files. She curled up in her window seat and looked over the backyard, letter and files on her lap. Then, slowly, she started to read through them.

It started before she was born. Her grandparents had been questioned for multiple domestic calls. Neighbors called it in. Then for years, nothing until her father was questioned by social services for the bruise on his face. Age six. Her aunt the same, not much older when it happened to her. But it was just dismissed as 'normal kid stuff.'

Normal like broken bones. Normal like her aunt running away a dozen times. Normal like her own parents having a welfare check back when her mother had been pregnant with Kimmy because someone heard shouting and her mother had a black eye.

Normal was what everyone else was, and what you were not.

She put the early files down, unable to stomach more about her parents and grandparents. The files mentioned years of what could only be deemed systemic abuse. Generations of it, no doubt. It made Vivian feel quite ill. Did she carry the potential for that in her genes? Did Jamie worry about that too?

Looking at the next set of files, Vivian opened the letter instead. She didn't want to relive her parents deaths just then. The letter was typed, which felt impersonal.

_Hello Vivian,_

_My mother has cancer._

_She_ _'_ _s had chemo and drug therapy and everything else you can think of. She needs bone marrow from a healthy donor and I_ _'_ _m not a match. The donor network has come up short. When she went into hospice care last month, I moved home to take care of things. That_ _'_ _s when I found out about you._

_I was looking for her family. Her parents, a sibling, a cousin. Anything at all. I just wanted a miracle and to find someone to save my mom_ _'_ _s life. And there you were. It was a letter from I guess your adopted mom. She was telling my mom about our grandparents dying and leaving you everything. But she still wanted to know if Mom wanted anything._

_She sounded pretty cool. But all I had was the address for the lawyer, and when I called that, he told me that Ms. Peck was not to be contacted._

_I know I shouldn't have, but I googled Peck and Toronto and came up with a couple famous ones. One, Gail, was the same name as the woman in the letter. It was pretty easy to find you from there._

_I_ _'_ _m really sorry to dump this on you. But please. She_ _'_ _s the only Mom I have. I don_ _'_ _t want to lose her._

_-_ _Lindsey_

She read the letter twice. Fucking google. Vivian flipped to the next page and saw information on how to have her bone marrow checked and who to contact.

Her gut reaction was to crumple the paper and throw it away. Get herself as far away from the insanity as humanly possible. Maybe she could run away to Manitoba. Vivian sighed. Her moms would be so disappointed in her.

Unable to face them just then, Vivian tapped her phone and called Jamie. "Hey, copper. What's up? Slow day?"

"I'm having an existential crisis." She closed her eyes and curled up on herself.

"Glad it's nothing serious. Want me to come over?"

Her heart felt lighter in that moment. The first thought Jamie had was to help. "No. I just... I need to cancel dinner."

Now Jamie sounded actually concerned. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, no. I just need to sort something out."

Jamie sounded wary. "Okay. If you change your mind, you know I make great ramen."

Smiling, Vivian leaned into the window. "You're really awesome, Jamie. You know that, right?"

"So this hot chick tells me." Jamie was a bright light in her life. "Call me later, okay? If I don't hear from you in a day, I'm just gonna come over."

"That's why you have a key," Vivian laughed softly.

"I _do_ have a key! Fancy that. I think you might like me."

"I do. I like you very much, Jamie."

In a softer voice, Jamie replied, "I like you too, Viv. Be good, okay?"

"You too."

They hung up and Vivian sighed, leaning up against the window.

She wasn't kidding about the crisis being existential. Who was she now? Was she the Peck, daughter of a cop and a doctor, trying to be the best she could be and help a city who hated her and what she stood for? Was she the cut loose rookie who was vying for a spot on ETF, because she had a gift for mechanical things? Was she an abuser and violent person? Was she a killer?

Who was she?

* * *

After Gail's warning call, Holly wasn't surprised to find Vivian at their house, curled up on her old bed, surrounded by files. She also wasn't surprised to see the half empty bottle of Jim Bean. Holly sighed and picked up the papers, organizing them and putting them back in the folder.

When she went for the bottle, Vivian spoke. "I'm drinking that."

"I see we're awake." Holly took the bottle anyway and put it on the nightstand. "You planning on cutting off all your hair?"

"No," muttered Vivian. "It's short anyway."

"Yes, but you could use a haircut, honey." Holly sat on the edge of the bed. "Want to talk?" She'd really never been able to read Vivian as much as she wished she could. Gail was so much better at it.

"S'cancer. She wants my bone marrow for her mom."

Oh. Holly sighed and gently stroked Vivian's hair. "Honey," she breathed. Dealing with the abrupt knowledge of a family she'd never known and their desperate need for her had to hurt.

"It's not even that she wants to know me. She just wants crap from me," muttered Vivian.

Leaning back against the head of Vivian's bed, Holly tried to think of what to say. "You can say no," she finally decided. A hazel eye glared at her, balefully. "I'm serious. She hurt you- _they_ hurt you. It's alright to be mad and not want to have anything to do with them."

Vivian scowled. "But we help people, Mom. How can I just say fuck off for this now?"

How had they managed to raise her so well? Holly smiled and her hand stilled. "I can't tell you what to do, honey. You're a grown up."

"What would you do?"

"Oh. Talk to Gail a lot. Probably go hit some balls. Try to get my brain to stop thinking so hard about what I was feeling and just let myself feel for a change."

Propping herself up on an elbow, Vivian sighed. "I wish I knew myself as well as you did."

Holly smiled and got up, taking the alcohol with her. "Comes with the years, honey. Have you called Jamie?" When Vivian nodded, she asked, "Annnnd?"

"And I canceled our date because I'm having an existential crisis?"

Pausing at the door, Holly frowned. "Since you're staying for dinner, I would call her and ask her to come over. You know she's always welcome."

Vivian nodded and rolled onto her stomach, picking up her phone.

Leaving her to her privacy, Holly put the alcohol away and texted Gail, saying that their daughter was a little drunk and at their house. Gail's reply was predictable.

_That_ _'_ _s my girl. Hide the scissors._

She even included an emoji of someone getting a haircut. In many ways, Vivian was still Gail's daughter first. Vivian didn't love Gail more or less than Holly, but she just reflected more of her impish mother. There had been a time where Holly had resented that and felt left out. Now she just smiled to see so many of the things she loved in Gail represented in their daughter as well. Besides, Vivian did have a tendency to babble in emotionally stressful moments, and that was pure Holly.

She wasn't their biological child, but Vivian was their daughter through and through. Including the part where she got drunk when things were too much to handle. Not that Gail or Holly had done that since before they'd adopted. Holly fought the impulse to hide the scissors. After all, as they'd discussed, Vivian's hair was already fairly short.

Barefoot, Vivian showed up downstairs after a little while. "Jamie said she'd come over."

"Did you explain what was going on?"

Vivian shook her head and sat down on the couch. "Not really. I just ... Um. I said I was here. And." She sighed. "I said I was here and asked if she could come over. Here."

Well. That was better than Holly had expected. She sat down next to Vivian. "Honey. It's okay to be discombobulated."

"I'm kinda pissed you guys didn't tell me I had an aunt," she sighed.

"I know, and I'm sorry. We wanted to."

"I hate lawyers."

Smiling, Holly got a glass of coconut water and brought it over. "Sophie would be crushed to hear that."

Vivian took a sip of the drink and made a face. "Seriously? You're going to get on me about electrolytes today?" But she drank it down. "Can I have the booze back?"

Holly looked at the Jim Bean. "Yes." But first she poured herself a large tumbler and sat down by her daughter. "Drinking alone is just tragic."

"You're going to get shit-faced with me?"

Smiling, Holly sipped the booze. "Getting drunk with your mother is slightly less embarrassing than being drunk by yourself."

"You just want an excuse to be all handsy with Mom," muttered Vivian, but she poured an actual glass now.

"No, not tonight, honey." Holly swirled her glass. "Do you want to talk?"

First Vivian nodded, then she shook her head. "I don't know."

What did Gail always say? Lower the bar. "You know we tried to get the ruling changed, honey. To at least be able to tell you."

Vivian sighed. "What would you have said?"

"Well." Holly took a long drink. "I would have said we needed to talk about something that was painful, and it was about your grandparents."

"Guess I have that in common with Mom, too."

Now Holly sighed and draped her arm across Vivian's shoulder. "Honey." There was no resistance and Vivian fell against Holly, her head landing on Holly's shoulder. "Bill was just a garden variety bigot, and Harold an emotionally abusive dick."

"Why can't I have cool grandparents like you?"

Ah. Holly smiled. "You do, Viv. Grandma Lily and Grandpa Brian adore you. And Elaine would move the moon for you."

"Yeah," said Vivian, mumbling.

"And if we're your real parents, then they're your real grandparents."

After a long silence, Vivian snorted a laugh. "Okay, you've got me there." She sat up and wiped her face. "I just... I know I'm you guys. But I'm scared to death of being them too, Mom."

"You won't be," said Holly, firmly. "You don't want to be and you won't be."

"It's not that simple."

"It is, honey." Holly finished her glass and put it down. "Look. You said you're like Gail, right?"

Vivian looked momentarily stricken. "Mom, I didn't mean —"

"Shh. I know. My point is this. Look at how much Gail changed from being a Peck." Quizzical, Vivian nodded. "She shed everything, all the horrible Peck stuff, and just slithered off to be someone else."

"You make Mom sound like a snake."

Holly smiled. "She is."

Finishing her glass, Vivian poured a refill for them both. "I looked at the photos."

"Of… Oh." Holly was surprised. She wouldn't have looked at the case notes from her family's death, but Vivian was not Holly or Gail. Gail never looked at the Perik case files, even in her worst days. More than once Gail expressed that she'd rather forget the whole thing than keep reliving it. But. If Vivian had read the files then she found their notes.

Vivian nodded. "You guys … kept everything."

"We did." Holly swirled her glass a little. "We had to. One day we figured you'd want to know. And even if it was a hundred years, we wanted you to be able to know."

"I could have very happily never known." Vivian downed half her glass. "Why are people such shits?"

Holly laughed. "I wish I knew, honey." They both finished the second glass.

Rolling her glass between her palms, Vivian whispered, "I don't know what I should do."

Neither did Holly. Not motherhood nor nearly sixty years of life had prepared her for this one. "Tell you what. How about we make something to eat and call the lawyers. Maybe you legally can't, and then you don't have to decide."

Vivian perked up. "I like that idea."

At least it was something to do until Gail got home.

* * *

"Thank god," said Gail as she opened the door and let Jamie in. "Vivian's on the couch."

Jamie looked surprised and, hanging her coat on the rack. "Is it that bad?"

"It could be worse. She could have been kidnapped by a serial killer." Gail sighed and locked the door.

"That's oddly specific," said Jamie, under her breath.

"Historical in this household."

From the comfy chair, her wife spoke up. "Stop being morbid, Gail."

"Impossible."

Mouthing 'kidnapped' to herself, clearly confused, Jamie walked over to the couch. "Wow, Viv. You smell like a distillery."

"Half a bottle'll do that. Hey, yo."

"What happened?"

Vivian shook her head. "So. My grandparents used to hit the shit out of their kids. Plural. Which turns out to mean I have an aunt who never wanted to hear from me after all that other shit. Now my aunt is dying of cancer, and her daughter showed up to try and get me to have a test to see if I can be a donor. So I'm drinking. How was your day?"

"Far less dramatic." Jamie reached over and touched Vivian's face. "Hey, Gail. Has the lush here had anything to eat?"

Returning to the kitchen, Gail called back, "Not really. She keeps picking at food."

Taking a hold of Vivian's elbow, Jamie hauled her up and steered her girlfriend into the kitchen. "Eat." Vivian opened her mouth to argue and Jamie glared. "Eat the food, Peck."

It took a minute, but Vivian gave in and started to eat the plate of food, grumbling under her breath. From the living room, Holly snickered. "Hello, Jamie."

The firefighter looked surprised again. "Is she..." Jamie turned to Gail and pointed at Holly.

"Loaded? Yeah, they've been drinking since around ... Four I think."

"I started at lunch," said Vivian.

"She only had a couple before I got home."

"And then you stole my booze." Vivian scowled and Jamie pointed at the food again.

It was hilarious to watch Jamie boss Vivian around like that. She was good at it, too. "Thank you for letting me come over, Holly."

Gail looked over at Holly. Her doctor wife smiled, lips curled in a little side smile of amused approval. With a soft hum, Holly didn't argue the implication that Jamie's presence was her idea. "I'm glad you have the day off."

Jamie reached over and picked up one of the satay sticks. "Me too. These are good, Gail," she noted.

"Viv made 'em." Gail pointed at her drunk daughter. "Beer?"

"Uh. Water? Or iced tea. I kinda feel like someone should be the designated sober."

"Sober land is pretty good," said Gail, agreeing. She watched Jamie and the slight frown that crossed her face. Psychically, she knew Jamie was a little overwhelmed and had no idea how to handle the conversation. "So. Yes, we knew about her aunt. No, we didn't know about cancer. And there was a legal document about not contacting her."

Exhaling loudly, Jamie nodded. "Cousin didn't get the memo?"

"Nope. And I suspect she cares more about her mother," mused Holly. "Which I cannot blame her." Vivian grumbled a noise but didn't say anything. Holly rolled her eyes a little at Jamie. "If you can do anything useful with her, I may adopt you."

"Oh," sighed Jamie. "Please don't. I like dating her, and that would be gross." She gently brushed Vivian's hair away from her face. "You need a haircut."

Now Vivian spoke up. "I was growing it out."

Gail snorted a laugh. "Really?"

"I'm not six anymore, Mom," she sighed and ate another satay. "Can I please get more drunk now?"

"Oh, I see." Jamie shook her head. "How many did you have before I got here?"

"She had half the bottle of bourbon." Gail held it up from the counter. The bottle was empty, though they had another.

Vivian scowled. "It wasn't full. And Mom had some too."

With a softer expression, Jamie cradled Vivian's face and quietly asked if Vivian wanted to stay the night with her parents. Vivian's reply of 'no' was equally quiet. Gail gave them a moment of privacy and walked over to Holly, kissing her forehead. "Holding up okay?"

Holly nodded and held up her glass. "Refill please."

"Sure. Viv, need a top off?"

"God, yes," said the girl.

"I'll drive her home," offered Jamie.

"Thank you," said Holly. "She's trying to decide if she wants to have her bone marrow sampled," she explained.

"That's a question?" Jamie sounded surprised.

Gail wondered how Jamie viewed Vivian. Where Gail's eyes were colored by the rose tint of parenthood, Jamie looked at Vivian with a different expression. Was that how Gail had dared look at Holly, years ago, in private only? Wonderment and a little awe and a great deal of emotion. Like Holly was perfect in so, so many ways.

Huh.

"There's a legal question if she can," sighed Gail. "There was a ..." She trailed off, wondering how best to explain it all.

Vivian spoke up. "My aunt signed a paper waiving all rights to me, after my birth parents died, in exchange for a no-contact agreement. Lawyers gotta figure out if I'm allowed to offer since I'm not supposed to know she exists. We already called."

So many thoughts ran across Jamie's face in a short amount of time, Gail almost laughed. "Okay, that's seriously fucked up."

Raising her fist above her head, Vivian sang out, "Thank you!" She downed the drink and held her glass up for more.

Gail shook her head. "Come on, McGann. You know how to cook?"

"I'm okay." She squeezed Vivian's shoulder and walked around the island to help Gail cook actual dinner. "I gotta say, Gail, I didn't expect you to be the cook."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"It doesn't seem like the thing you'd have the patience for."

"Hah, yeah, I get that sometimes. It's the kid's fault. I cooked for her and then..." Another odd thing to try to explain, because that was when Holly had been exposed to the Luongo River Virus.

And then Jamie surprised her. "Was that when Holly was sick? Viv told me."

"It was." Gail regarded Jamie for a moment and then looked at the couch where Vivian and Holly were polishing off the satays and the Jim Bean. "It's okay, you know. Holly knows how much she can hold, and it's better than drinking alone."

Jamie diced the onions. "I'm kind of worried about Viv. I've never actually seen her drunk."

"If it was me at her age, or hell, even Holly, I'd worry. But ..." Gail grinned. "Satisfy my curiosity, McGann. What does she drink on a date?"

"Viv? Two beers. Or a Jack and Coke."

"Moderation, God. I failed somewhere, Jamie. My kid never cuts loose."

And Jamie grinned a shy, happy kind of grin. "She's really, um, self contained. I like that. All those other girls are, bleah, in your face and 'did I tell you about my trauma?' And they Facebook everything." Jamie glanced at the couch. "But she doesn't. She just... She's a person. And a funny, polite, sweet, caring person."

"She is."

"She is." Jamie sighed. "I get why she doesn't want to talk about it much, but I wish she would. Course, I have no idea if that would make her feel better."

Talk more. So Vivian did talk a little to Jamie. That was good. Gail smiled. "You like her, huh?"

"Broken bits and all, yeah." Jamie blushed. "I admit, though... I did want to see her drunk. But not like this."

"It's rare," admitted Gail. "I used to make bad decisions on tequila, but I stopped before we got married."

Smiling, Jamie asked, "But you have seen her loaded before."

"Oh sure. Drinking isn't a sin here. She gets maudlin, which you missed. Then she'll get real quiet, more than normal, and she'll fall asleep." Gail paused and smirked. "Last time I got totally shit faced, I cut off all my hair."

"That sounds like a story."

"It had been a very long, very bad day." Gail looked over where Holly was sitting by Vivian, neither talking much. "But. It made me figure out who and what mattered." She sighed and then said, "Thank you. For coming over. I know it means a lot for- well it means a lot to all of us."

Jamie blushed again. "It's nothing. It ... It really didn't seem like there was another option," she admitted.

"Oh there always is, Jamie," laughed Gail, dryly. "So I'm going to say 'thank you' because my daughter is very important to me, and you're going to say 'you're welcome' because my daughter is very important to you, and we're both going to watch the women we adore get sleepy drunk."

As it turned out, Gail was right and wrong. Drunk Vivian got quieter than normal and did lie down on the couch, her head on Jamie's thigh. Jamie gently stroked her hair, looking like she wished the raw pain would go away and that her girlfriend could find some rest, but it seemed sleep was not coming along. It was the closest to 'cuddling' that adult Vivian had even done, at least in front of Gail. And she'd heard, from Pia and Skye and Olivia, that Vivian really was not a cuddler. But touching there seemed to be okay.

Drunk Holly, on the other hand, took a while longer to get sleepy, and instead became handsy. Really handsy. With was normal. In the end, Holly insisted they do something to get their minds off it after Gail gently rebuffed her for the tenth time.

That manifested in the craziest game of _Cards Against Humanity_ that they'd played in a long time. Holly demonstrated her foul mouth and filthy humor by coming up with some of the nastiest answers. Vivian's were mostly depressing, which made sense at the time. After Holly won back to back rounds, Gail demanded they play anything else, so it was drunken 'Head's Up' and even Vivian got a little noisy.

But. Finally the two drunk women calmed down. Finally Vivian tipped into Jamie's shoulder when Gail went to get some snacks. And then she slowly settled on the couch and snored. "That was interesting," Jamie sighed.

Gail laughed and caressed Holly's hair. "I hadn't expected that either, to be honest."

"Some Pecks can't hold it," yawned Holly, snuggling against Gail.

"So says Ms. Sleepy Drunk."

Holly pouted. "That's Doctor Mrs. Sleepy, and I can still beat you at pool."

"I'll have you remember that was about the side bet."

Smiling drunkenly, Holly snuggled into Gail's side. She'd finally moved from handsy to cuddly. "I remember. And I can still beat you."

"It was worth losing to McNally," Gail said firmly. "It's hard to lose to her. She's terrible."

"How did she ever win?"

"She uses her boobs."

Holly snorted. "What boobs?" And she yawned.

"McNally... Vivian's sergeant?" Jamie looked a little lost.

"One at the same." Gail sighed. "Now Traci. Traci is the hustler." She regarded Jamie. "Traci and Andy are my friends. Classmates... Something complicated. Trace married Steve, my brother. Stick around and you'll meet them."

Jamie nodded. "Traci's son, Leo? Right?"

"Yep. He used to live in the apartment."

The firefighter looked down at Vivian. "What was Bill like?"

The question surprised Gail for a moment. She glanced at Holly, already dozing lightly or just zoned out. "My father? She didn't know him. I'm not sure I did either." Gail tilted her head, resting her cheek against Holly's head. "He was a Peck, in the worst ways. He used his power to make things happen, he was a bully and ... I get why. His father, my grandfather, was abusive. But my mom shielded me. Us."

Jamie nodded. "She was kind of weird around my parents."

"She doesn't have a lot of paternal men in her life. Just her grandpa Brian really. Oliver and Steve won't dare try it with her. They love her too much."

"I don't really know... I don't know what that means, and I want to."

Gail felt her chest constrict. For a second, a heartbeat, she was afraid she was having a heart attack. No. No. This was a good thing, a good feeling. She was happy to hear someone else out there say the words. Someone else out there loved her kid. "Well." Gail took her time to reply. "Your dad probably scares her a little, and she doesn't really remember enough yet, if she ever will, to place it properly. But right now he fits in that spot where she filed her own dad."

Frowning, Jamie stared down at Vivian's sleeping face. "He's not a bad person."

"I know. And she knows that. God knows my mother did a background check on all of you." Gail rolled her eyes. "If any of you had been bad people, Elaine would have swooped in."

"That's actually terrifying," admitted Jamie.

"Ain't it? She did the same on Holly, and probably Traci. Steve and I never did." Gail closed her eyes briefly. "It's nothing you or your parents did, Jamie. It just may take a long time for her to go to being the Vivian you see around them."

The young woman didn't say anything to that for a while. "I should get her home."

"You're welcome to stay here," noted Gail. "Both of you."

Jamie wrinkled her nose. "No. Not that I don't love your breakfasts, but I think she might want to be away."

Gail nodded. "Yeah, I do too. But I have to say the mom things. It was in the contract when we adopted her."

Smiling, Jamie gently nudged Vivian's shoulders. "Come on, Viv. Wake up." Adorably cute, Vivian curled up tighter and mumbled a no. "You can sleep here, but you can't sleep on the couch."

With bleary, red eyes, Vivian looked up at Jamie and then Gail. Her eyes lingered on Gail for a moment, then the sleeping Holly. "My place," she said, decisively. And then as an afterthought added, "Please."

Jamie checked with Gail who nodded. "Okay. Come on."

Leaving sleepy Holly on the couch for the time being, Gail helped wrangle Vivian to the truck. "We'll sort out her bike tomorrow," promised Gail. "You sure you're okay with this on your own?"

"Please, I carry men three times her size out of burning buildings. One sleepy Peck is no problem." They both looked at Vivian buckling up very, very slowly.

"You know that's not what I mean," she sighed.

She leaned on her car door. "I know. But... I really like her, Gail. She's smart, and morbid, and kind of weird and messed up, like me. I can be myself around her, and she seems to like that. I ... I really haven't met anyone like her before." Jamie looked up at the taller blonde. "I haven't met people like any of you guys before."

Gail smiled. "I know that feeling. Call me if you need anything. Any time. Even two in the morning when I threaten you with my taser. Viv involved or not, okay?"

When Jaime looked surprised, Gail felt an urge to hug her. That poor kid had some of the same problems as Vivian. People in Jamie's world didn't just drop things to help friends, apparently. Or maybe not parents. Or maybe… well. Who knew.

"Thank you, Gail," said Jamie quietly.

Fuck it. Gail gave the short woman a very quick hug and, instead of explaining a thing, nodded and went back into the house.

Holly was awake on the couch, sucking down a bottle of water. "I'm calling in drunk tomorrow," she informed Gail, immediately.

"You're a pretty shitty example of a boss." Gail teased and locked up the house.

"You're going in?"

Gail nodded. "One of us should. I need to talk to Christian at the very least, and probably Andy." Running her hands through her hair, Gail exhaled loudly. What could she tell Andy? Christian was easy. Just let him know that Vivian had some unexpected news, she was physically fine, but mentally would be all over the place for a while. But Andy… Andy was a boss and a virtual aunt and a friend.

Well. That was for tomorrow.

"Come on, Drunk Doc. Let's get some sleep."

* * *

The jackhammer in her skull could kindly fuck itself. "Ow," Vivian groaned, pushing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.

A hand gently rubbed her shoulder. "I called you in sick," said Jamie, her voice soft and quiet.

"I might be falling for you."

Jamie laughed. "You're just saying that because you're hungover."

That was probably true. "How did I get home?"

"I drove you. We can get your bike when you feel better."

Vivian hunkered down in the bed. "My head hurts," she confessed.

"There's painkillers and water on your nightstand."

Oh yeah, she was falling hard. Pushing herself back up, Vivian popped the pills and downed half the water. "Thank you," she sighed and lay back down. She didn't remember much of the night. She'd read the files. Found the bourbon and had a drink to try and calm her nerves... Mom took the booze... Mom cooked. Jamie came over. Jamie was there now, dressed in sweats on top of the sheets. "Oh god, did I try to have sex with you last night?"

Jamie propped herself up, looking a little amused. "Very briefly. And you pouted when I said no."

Vivian groaned and covered her face. "I am so, so sorry."

"Gail said you usually just fall asleep when you're loaded. How often do you get drunk with your moms?"

"Rarely. Usually Christmas or New Year, and up at the cottage."

"Ah, your mysterious cottage."

Vivian took her hands off her face and looked up at Jamie. "We ... Um. If you'd like, we could go."

"Maybe when you feel better." Jamie reached down and gently fluffed Vivian's hair. "Coffee?"

Angels were singing. She sighed. "You're being way too nice to me."

Jamie got out of bed. "I like you, and I totally get why you got blitzed." While Vivian watched, Jamie put on her favorite pair of fuzzy slippers. "Can you make it to the kitchen?"

"I think so." Vivian pushed herself up and waited to see if the room spun. It was stable. "Yeah, I think I'm okay."

"Hungry?"

"Um. Toast. I think. I want to shower first." Vivian swung her legs out of bed and hesitated before standing. The world was not pleased with her, but she could stand and walk. Ugh. Never again. "Did I shower last night?"

Jamie shook her head. "Nope. I considered it a lost cause." Of course. Vivian sighed and started stripping the bed. Slowly. "You know, I don't know anyone who is as much of a clean freak as you are. Which is funny."

"Because I hated showers as a kid?" Vivian smiled. "I hated how long it took my hair to dry." She ran a hand through her shaggy hair. It was almost long enough to tie back in a ponytail. "Would you still find me sexy with long hair?"

"Hm. Do you promise to wash it regularly?"

"Yes." Vivian laughed at the suggestion.

"Then yes." Jamie helped pull the sheets off and got fresh ones. "I'll make the bed, go shower."

"You're really being super nice to me, Jamie," she said and followed orders, running a colder than normal shower. It wasn't going to help her headache, she knew that, but it helped the rest of her. By the time she was clean, dressed, and in the kitchen, she was more awake and capable of dealing with the day.

Of course, she found her girlfriend and her roommate chatting. Shit. Christian.

"Hey, she lives."

"Bite me." Vivian picked up a cup and poured coffee.

Christian sighed, exaggeratedly. "She won't tell me anything."

Shaking her head, Jamie cut up some cheese. "Sorry, Christian. I like sex."

"Oh god, C, stop bugging my girlfriend."

"I'm just worried!"

She sighed. "You know it's a ... It's a family thing. It's complicated and messy. I didn't expect it and I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Her friend hesitated and then sighed. "It's not a secret ex lover, is it?"

Jamie nearly snorted coffee out her nose. "Oh my god, Christian, have you actually _met_ my Peck?" Wiping her face, the firefighter smirked.

Vivian grumbled. "I'd like to be offended but I don't think I can."

"No, you really can't." Jamie grinned. "She's terrible at romance, you see."

Christian laughed. "And that keeps you around?"

"I hate fake things, like Hallmark and flowers."

"That's ironic," said Vivian under her breath.

Jamie pointed at her. "Hush. My dad's a florist."

"Oh that made more sense." Christian finished his coffee. "Right. I don't have a day off. Feel better, Viv."

"Have fun at court," she replied and watched him head out.

"How did you know he had court?"

"He had his uniform on already." Vivian yawned. "We change at work most of the time so people don't stop us and demand all sorts of dumb things."

Jamie made a thoughtful noise and handed over the toast before opening the fridge. "You want eggs? I was going to make a fake omelette. Fold it with cheese and ..."

"Cheese and?"

"Tomatoes, but you're out."

"Oh. Gail's allergic. I got used to not eating them."

Her girlfriend looked surprised. "Tomatoes? Is that why you guys say potato, tomato?"

Vivian smiled. "It is." She nibbled the toast. "I think I can keep down eggs. Try the green onions and bell peppers with it."

"That'll do." Jamie busied herself with breakfasting and Vivian watched, nursing her coffee.

Everyone else asked what was wrong, or likely, tomorrow they would ask what happened. Even Lara and Jenny would nudge at answers. But, in her drunken memory, Vivian didn't recall Jamie asking that. The shorter woman had asked how she was, what could Jamie do to help, and simply took care of her.

It seemed like Jamie was always doing that. She'd gotten shot, held hostage (briefly), and a hundred other things. And Jamie just calmly picked her up and righted her again. Of course, Vivian had taken care of the various bumps and bruises Jamie picked up at work, but right now she felt like a remora fish.

"Am I a project girlfriend?"

Jamie looked over, perplexed. "Wanna unpack that?"

"You're... You're always taking care of me."

That seemed to surprise Jamie. "Am I? Just wait until a building falls on me or something," she said blithely. "You've been the one having work and personal drama, I'm sure it'll be my turn soon."

Vivian made a face. "I hope not."

"Me too! Jesus, when I heard you were shot, I had these horrible Bury Your Queers fears!"

The what? Oh right, the reason Vivian rarely watched television. "This is why I wear a vest."

"Hm. And now I see why you think my protective gear is a turn on. You're very transparent."

"Just give me the outtakes of your calendar."

Her girlfriend laughed. "Oh fuck, I actually got asked about doing that."

Vivian grinned. "You should do it! You're insanely hot."

It was good to just be able to laugh about normal things, to tease her girlfriend, and to be, for just a few hours, be normal.

That was, maybe, the best thing about her relationship with Jamie. She made Vivian feel like just another normal person.

* * *

For some reason, she wasn't shocked when Vivian walked into her office and threw herself on the couch.

"Make yourself at home," said Holly, saving her file.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Stewart, she just walked in." Simon, Holly's spare secretary, looked horrified.

"Oh it's alright. Simon, this is my daughter, Vivian. She's usually here in uniform."

The secretary hesitated. "Oh. Well. If you say it's alright." And he let himself back out, closing the door.

"The kid's not alright," complained Vivian.

Holly sighed. "So I see."

Making sure she was at a good stopping point, Holly got up and walked over to sit on Vivian's legs. The girl had seen her therapist that morning and often that meant she didn't want to talk to anyone at all afterwards. Once or twice, Vivian had wanted to talk to Gail. More often, if she needed to unload her brain, it was with Holly.

"Are you going to ask?"

"No." Holly patted Vivian's thigh.

Vivian grumbled. "Jamie won't either."

"She's a good person, Viv."

Her daughter sighed and nodded. "I don't know what I'm going to do. Did the lawyers call you?"

"Not yet. It's still all hypothetical."

"That makes it worse."

Holly had to agree there. "It really does." She squeezed Vivian's knee. "Do you want to hang out here for a while?"

"Can I?" The girl looked hopeful.

"You may," corrected Holly, and she got back up. "I'm working on a case, though."

"I'll be quiet." Vivian made no move to dig out her phone or tablet.

Knowing Vivian was more likely than Gail to actually stay quiet, Holly went back to her desk and stared at the latest reports for a murder/suicide she'd picked up with the week before. Her mind kept drifting, though.

Even though her daughter was nearly twenty-five, Holly thought of her as a girl. When she'd dated Gail, way back when, the cop hadn't been much older and yet Holly had never thought of Gail as anything other than a woman. A drop dead gorgeous woman, but a fully adult woman none the less. Their kid, and by extension her girlfriend, were children to them.

Maybe it was just that she was old.

Holly sighed and jiggled her head.

Murder was commonplace, in her opinion. Stabbing and poisoning was slightly interesting, considering it was combined. She'd not had a lot of poisoned knives in the last ten years, after all. Batrachotoxin. Causing near-instant paralysis. The detective had asked "how instantaneous" and Holly had contemplated braining him.

As she saved and sent her report off, the phone rang.

"Dr. Stewart."

"Hello, this is Berrigan from Zoft, Berrigan, and—"

The lawyers! "Oh! Mr. Berrigan! I thought Powell was calling us back."

"I thought I should take over the work, seeing as you're one of our most valued clients."

"I find that hard to believe." Holly rolled her eyes. "Vivian's here with me. Let me put you on speaker."

Vivian was up and sitting across from Holly's desk in a flash. "Hello, Mr. Berrigan."

"Ms. Peck. I'm sorry about your recent troubles."

"Thanks." Vivian scowled, belying her words.

"So," said the lawyer, ignorant of a certain Peck's facial expressions. "I went over the original filing from Mrs. Strong, regarding the self-revocation of in loco parentis, and the—"

Holly cut him off. "We're familiar with it."

"Actually, I feel we're not. When my firm drew up the papers for the current arrangement, we did so without the full copy of the original documents. Some were simply notarized."

"Sorry... What?" Vivian eyed Holly. "I thought the one she filed with social services was it."

"After your ... Ah, after your biological grandparents passed, Mrs. Peck turned over their legal documents to us."

Holly nodded. "I remember that." They'd not known what to make of it.

"In the midst, we found Mrs. Strong's legal emancipation from her family, the name change documents, and a series of papers that told us the Greens had hired a PI to monitor her whereabouts following her, ah, abandonment of her family."

Over the table, mother and daughter shared a look. "A PI." Holly felt dumbfounded.

"Hey, Berrigan. Quick question." Vivian's tone rang of Gail at her worst. It was the way Gail spoke before yanking the rug out from under people. "Why is this the first we're hearing about a PI?"

"It was all past tense," replied Berrigan. Then, perhaps, he recognized the tone. After all, the man had worked with Gail before. "This was all well before you were born, Ms. Peck. When you went into the system, they were closely monitored due, in part, to Mrs. Strong's allegations."

"That does make sense," allowed Holly. Vivian made a face. "What does this have to do with the question of if Vivian can donate marrow to her aunt?"

There was the sound of paper shuffling. "To that. She can, but only with the tacit agreement of her aunt, or her medical proxy. But it's the semantics. Her daughter contacting you was in violation of the agreement. Had she approached us directly, we could have acted as proxy, continuing the status of non-contact—"

"Jesus, do you ever stop lawyering?" Vivian snapped at the phone.

"I'm afraid not... And ... Well, your mothers make me nervous."

Vivian paused and then laughed. "Okay, so they broke the cone of silence. Does that mean they broke the law?"

"Oh, yes, very much so. You can press charges if you'd like. Or we can simply provide them a warning and adjust the terms. After all, you're of age now and really we should do this anyway. The conditions set by your mothers in the beginning were for your protection, and that of your family. That is, your future family."

Looking a little confused, Vivian leaned back. "To stop them from laying claim on my trust fund?"

"Precisely. Now, under medical samaritan laws, you're permitted a donation like this, as many times as you want, to anyone. The fact that, sadly, they know who you are does complicate it legally, but provided you're willing to dismiss the charges for the violation, you may donate marrow."

Holly took off her glasses, processing what Berrigan had said. "So this isn't some elaborate con?"

"Even if it was, it wouldn't work. Ms. Peck is not permitted to provide to them any of the Armstrong Estate. While we can renegotiate to permit the provision for her personal wealth and provenance, any and all possessions that can possibly be attributed to that fund are not legally hers to give to them."

"Wait, what? You mean even if I wanted to, I can't? Couldn't I just change the terms to allow it?"

"No, you cannot. Doing so would invalidate you for the trust."

"Wow... Who the fuck came up with that one?"

"Apparently... Eleanor Armstrong, widow of Albert, and the first executor of the trust. Her grandson adopted a former slave baby from the Americas, and she wished to ensure the money stayed with family and could not be claimed by the former slave _owners_ , who was a biological parent. This proved to be unnecessary, as the child died without issue. However, any attempt to give it to members outside is foolish, at best." Berrigan paused. "It's at this juncture I feel I should remind you, Ms. Peck. If you plan to marry, please don't elope. The paperwork afterwards is complicated, as Dr. Stewart can attest to."

Holly snorted. "It was a month I'd like back... Hang on. That means Gail couldn't use her trust fund for our old house!"

"That... That is correct. The funds she withdrew to pay the balance of your mortgage came from her private fund, and some inheritance from ... Ah, Elizabeth Peck."

"Who's Elizabeth?" Holly was bewildered.

"Paternal grandmother. She died in uniform." Vivian shrugged, and had apparently memorized all the Pecks.

That was right! Once Gail had posited that Lizzie had been murdered. Impossible to be sure. "Well. Anything else?"

"Just this." Berrigan sighed. "I think it would be wise to review the terms before any tests are done to establish Ms. Pecks possibility of donating. As I understand it, there will be at least two blood draws?"

"Of a sort." Holly felt no need to get technical. A feeling that Berrigan, clearly, did not share.

"Having the blood sample before we clear up the terms could be used against you later. For your own protection, you understand, I strongly advise we draw up new terms first."

Vivian rubbed her face. "Fine. Can we do it this week?"

Berrigan sounded surprised. "I can fit you in tomorrow after five, but—"

"Done. Six at your offices. Thanks."

"Certainly, Ms. Peck. Dr. Stewart. Have a nice evening." And he wisely hung up.

Holly did not have the luxury. "Technically I think he should have called you..."

"I think me doing this meeting will clear that up." Vivian groaned. "I'm using it to stall and think about some more."

"Do you want company for your lawyer up?" Holly remembered vividly her first time sitting with those lawyers. Powell, their normal helpful fellow, had been the baby lawyer and came in with an old man whom Gail called Deke and teased about his hair. Then Deke gave Gail shit for marrying without contacting him first.

And then they spent a month going over terms and clauses and conditions and how Holly was allowed to use her allocation for herself but there were limitations on it for her parents. It was incredibly convoluted. When they'd adopted Vivian, it was weirdly easier. She was their legal child, she fit neatly in, her blood family did not, and that was that. Holly didn't remember digging too deeply into what that actually meant at the time, just that Vivian came into her majority at twenty-five.

She stared at her daughter. Her twenty-five year old daughter. This legal tete-a-tete was long overdue. It just sucked that it had to happen with a bomb like this.

"No," said Vivian, wearily. "I was there when I was eighteen, and with the name change thing. I can do this. I ... I do want to talk to you guys after, but I don't want you holding my hand there. I've got to do this on my own. Don't I?"

Holly smiled. "Don't be in a rush to adult, honey. There's no turning back once you do."

* * *

"You don't have to come," said Vivian for the tenth time.

Both Jamie and Gail snorted at the same time. Gail smiled at the firefighter quickly. "Viv, do you want us around?"

The young woman hesitated. "I… I don't know."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "They're sticking a giant needle in your arm, moron. I'm gonna hold your hand and take you out to ice cream."

"I like her. Viv, you have to keep her."

"She's not a puppy, Mom." Vivian grumbled and shoved her hands into her pockets, walking into the building.

Looking heavenward, as if asking the sky for strength, Jamie followed. "You take so much looking after, Peck."

"Didn't ask you, McGann." But Vivian pulled one hand out of her pocket and Gail grinned as she watched the girls hold hands. "Take a picture, Mom, and I tell everyone about how I beat you at the range."

A potent threat. "Once. You beat me once in your entire life."

"Did you go to the eye doctor?"

Gail sighed. "I did. She said I'm old and I may have to get glasses full time by the time I'm 80." That her near-vision was going was expected. Everyone in her family had that problem. But her distance was getting spotty in ways that really only impacted her on the range at distance. But. Gail recalled the day Holly moved from bifocals to trifocals and how vocal she was about it sucking.

Curiously, Jamie asked, "How long has Holly worn glasses?"

"Since she was old enough to communicate." Vivian eyed Gail. "Well?"

"Hmm? Oh, that photo?" Gail smiled and pulled out her phone, bringing up the photo of Holly in her stupid-adorable bear with glasses hat.

"Awww, little nerd." Jamie laughed.

"It gets better." Gail quickly found the one of Vivian in the same hat at the same age.

"Oh. I want that one. Can I have that one?" Jamie turned to Vivian, who just rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Text me that one, Gail. Next time she gets all serious and moody, I'm gonna use that."

Gail obliged and took a long step ahead of the girls to open the door. Vivian let go of Jamie's hand and went up to the counter to sign in. A moment later they were all siting in the doctor's office, waiting for the man of the hour. Jamie fiddled with the draws on her sweatshirt while Vivian stared at the wall. She'd been doing a lot of the staring into nothing, to the point that Holly suspected an outburst sooner or later.

The door opened and a man in a button down and tie and short lab coat walked in with a nurse. "Ms. Peck...?" He trailed off and looked at the three women.

"Me," said Vivian, sitting up straight and taking off her jacket.

"Oh. Right. Well. I'm Dr. MacMillan. I—"

Vivian cut him off. "Doc, look. I know why I'm here. You need to draw blood to see if I'm a possible match. You want to check my HLA antigens and the first step is a blood draw." Dropping her jacket in Jamie's lap, Vivian held her right arm out.

The doctor was taken aback. "I see. We should talk about the risks involved in donation." He paused. "We can do that if you're a match, I suppose."

"Her mother is a doctor," said Jamie, helpfully.

Immediately Dr. MacMillan stared at Gail. "Not me, her other mother." She smiled winningly. Holly would call it dangerous.

Then he looked back at Jamie. Vivian groaned audibly. "Oh for christ's sake. Girlfriend, mother, yes, I have two. I was adopted. Can we move on and stick me?"

"Right," said Dr. MacMillan, slowly. "Nurse?" The nurse was a heartbeat from the giggles. They quickly set Vivian up on the chair and drew her blood. "We'll do the first test and if that's positive, we'll do the PBSC and, well, go from there. If that isn't rejected, you'll need to—"

"Schedule time to come in and have my hip drilled. Other mother's a doctor." Vivian leaned back and looked away from her arm.

While the kid had no problems with other people's blood, and in fact the only time she'd panicked was when Holly cut her leg open on the ice, she was clearly a bit squeamish about her own. Gail frowned. Distraction time. "Holly said seventy percent of matches only do the blood sampling."

"Oh, true," said the doctor, his head bobbing as the nurse handed him a sample. He started to do some procedure right in front of them, much to Gail's surprise. "However Mrs. Strong's cancer is rather advanced. That's why we brought her down from Barrie." He paused and looked at Vivian curiously. "It's awfully nice of you to do this for a stranger."

Vivian grunted and bent her arm, holding the gauze to her elbow crease. "That's me. Kind to strangers."

"Viv," said Jamie in a cautioning tone.

"Well, good news then. You blood is not inconsistent with Mrs. Strong. We can go ahead and do the next draw as soon as—" He was startled by Vivian holding her left arm out. "Uh."

"I shoot with the other arm. Cop. Let's get this over with."

"Well. Um. You need to change into a gown."

Gail nearly laughed at Vivian's indignant expression.

"For a blood draw?"

"It'll take about an hour," explained the doctor. "So why don't we take you to a changing room?" He looked at the nurse, helplessly.

"Jesus, they've both seen my boobs... Do I have to take my bra off?" When the doctor shook his head, the nurse just ducked out to get a top and, not too long later, Gail watched her daughter settle into the chair with her arm strapped down. Jamie had scooted her chair around and was sitting on Vivian's right side. At first they weren't holding hands, but as the movie the nurse put on droned on, Gail noticed that Vivian's hand was on top and her fingers were tucked into Jamie's.

Gail grinned and ducked out to call Holly with an update. "Hey, baby. She's doing good."

"Oh good." There was a thud in the background. "Excuse me, that table goes— yes, there. You're replacing that one. Thank you."

"Getting that second self rising table set up?"

"And the new impact resistant flooring. Banner day here. I take it they're doing PBSC?"

"Yeah, she's sitting in there watching some terrible movie or tv show with Jamie. They're holding hands."

Holly made a noise. "Tell me you took a photo."

"I did not."

"You're slipping, Peck."

"It was too cute. Also I had a terrible angle." Gail glanced back at the door. She could just see Jamie's brown head.

"Well." Another thud came from the background. "Ugh. This could have come at a better time, but frankly I'm not sure when we ever didn't have all the this happening at once."

"Oh, back when we were first dating and did nothing but screw all night."

Holly snorted a laugh. "I feel like I should be there too."

"She's barely tolerating me and Jamie, baby. I think if you were here, she'd spend the whole time worrying about you."

"Why? You're not at a hospital."

Gail looked around. "True, it's practically an office building. Not sure she'd see the difference."

"I would," said Holly, firmly.

"You constantly surprise me, Ms. Stewart."

"Dr. Stewart."

"Mrs. Dr. Stewart." The banter was old, but it still made Gail smile. "So this is it? She donates?"

"Not necessarily. She might be rejected. They have to do a couple tests with her marrow."

"I thought they were going to have to drill into her."

Her wife snorted over the phone. "No. Not unless this test is positive."

"TV makes it so much more dramatic."

"Says the woman who's been on the tube four times. Officer Park, Detective Hammond, Inspector Trek, and ... What's the last one?"

Gail laughed. "Inspector Gloria Prince. At least she was a lesbian." Watching herself be portrayed on television was weird. "And you're the one who had a miniseries based on you." That was where Det. Hammond came in. He was the male version of Gail, Greg Hammond, a homicide detective who met Dr. Dorothy Thyme over a dead body, fell in love, solved the case, and started dating.

They'd laughed so hard they'd all cried when it had aired. Even Vivian found it hilarious.

"Dr. Thyme, just in time," said Holly, deadpan imitating the catch phrase. "The science was deplorable."

"You're much hotter than the actress."

"I know! Couldn't they have gotten Amy Acker or someone who could act without chewing scenery?"

"Do you regret making them sign a paper to keep your name out of it?" The agreement had also meant they passed on a bit of money.

"Do you? The whole saving the King stuff was big for a while."

"Not a bit, nope." Gail laughed. "Okay, I'm going to keep the kids company."

"Love you, honey."

"Love you too."

Gail hung up and went back in, smiling.

"You were right," said Jamie. "She was talking to Holly."

Vivian smirked. "It's the stupid smile. Mom, check out what's on TV."

Looking up, Gail groaned. "Oh my god, you weren't kidding!" Jamie burst out laughing. "That's really based on you?"

"And John and Chloe. Why are you watching this shit, Viv?" Because on the screen was the movie about the attempt on Prince William's life, staring Inspector Maryanne Trek. Amped up for TV of course. There was no car chase scene. It had just been long, boring hours undercover. Gail hadn't even been an Inspector at the time.

"Hey, I have a giant needle in my arm. If watching straight you in a shootout with the head of an anti-royalist movement gets my mind off it, I'm gonna watch." Vivian smirked and turned to the skeptical looking nurse. "It really is based on a true story."

"There was no shootout," growled Gail, sitting down. "Jamie, just so you know, there's a Netflix miniseries about Holly."

Jamie startled. "No shit? Viv, next time you can't sleep, we're watching that."

If Gail was going to be embarrassed, Holly would be too. It was only fair.

* * *

"So that's it?" Grady Strong scowled at Gail, then Holly, and finally Vivian.

"She's not a match," Holly said patiently. "I really don't know what else you expect."

Lindsey touched her father's shoulder. "Dad, it's fine." Then to Vivian, she added. "Mom doesn't want to see you. I'm sorry."

That was news. Vivian glanced at her moms and then at Grady. "She knows I'm here?" When Lindsey nodded, Vivian sighed and tried to identify the feeling. Anger? Annoyance? No, she'd expected this.

"She needs to sign the paperwork," said Gail, her voice the low, quiet tone that prefaced danger. "And so do you two."

Both Grady and Lindsey nodded right away. "We did. This morning. Filed it with the lawyers." Grady was gruff and annoyed. "Bunch of bullshit, you know your ... They don't need to strong arm us."

"Mother. My mother," said Vivian, struggling to keep anger out of her voice. "And apparently we do." Beside her, Holly cleared her throat. It prevented the more bitter remarks from slipping out.

Lindsey looked stricken. "I'm sorry."

It was Holly who spoke up. "Nothing to be sorry about."

Grady scowled. "If you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone. With my niece. And not her mother and... Friend."

She felt overheated. Vivian was sure her face was red. She actually saw red. But before she could say a thing, Holly stood up. "That's fine."

What the hell?

Holly was the one who got irate when people poked at their family structure. It was always Holly, never Gail, who bit people's heads off for homophobia or ignorance. Holly. Always and always Holly.

But not right now.

The action caught Gail off guard as well and she popped to her feet. "We'll be right outside," she said to Vivian. Probably only Vivian could hear the worry in her voice.

And then she was alone with them.

Alone with her birth family.

Grady frowned at her. "Well. I'd say thank you for trying, but…"

She didn't like him. More than the general feeling of unease Vivian got around Jamie's father, she knew outright that she did not like this man who'd married her aunt. Her cousin's father. Family she'd never wanted.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was why she was in such agony right now. Unlike every other adopted person she'd known, with the sole exception of Sophie, Vivian had never harbored dreams of finding her birth family. The devastation of her birth grandparents had been enough. The loss of her birth parents had been enough. And knowing that it was over after the grandparents died, that had actually felt good. It was closure.

And now, now Lindsey had upended her life in the most uncomfortable way possible.

Vivian sighed and shrugged. "Doesn't matter." She wanted to shout at him, tell him who Holly was, how awesome she was, and how great a mom she was. But suddenly she understood why Holly had just left.

It didn't matter.

They didn't matter.

These people weren't her family.

Some of the anger fell aside.

"What the hell's the deal with the papers?"

Ah. Vivian leaned back, forcing herself to look comfortable. "She didn't tell you? After ... After her brother died, she gave her rights up to the province."

A slightly horrified Lindsey asked, in a querulous tone, "Rights?"

"Technically kids go to the closest living relative. Siblings. Then grandparents." She leveled a look at Grady. His wince told her what she needed to know. "Did you even know about me?"

The man shook his head. "Not until... No. Not until Linz found the papers."

That explained a lot. "Well. There you are. The paperwork, that's protecting me."

"From... What from?" Grady scowled again. He did that a lot.

"You. From doing this again. Technically you violated the agreement, so I got a new one drawn up." Frankly, Vivian was all for the original plan to sue and so was Gail. At least until Holly had sighed when she'd gone over the proposal. Then Gail and Vivian backed down and said they'd be fine with a new arrangement. Now they could contact each other, but Vivian still wasn't permitted to leave any of her Armstrong inheritance to them.

The man huffed. "Seems awfully presumptuous."

"Doesn't matter. That's my life. This is yours."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long moment. Finally Grady sighed and stood up. "You're right. That's mine. I'd say it was nice to meet you but..."

"Lies do not become us," said Vivian, half-quoting _The Princess Bride_.

Grady grunted and turned, walking to the private room. In the moment of the door being open, Vivian caught sight of a wraith of a woman who looked slightly familiar. Their eyes met, briefly, and then then door closed.

So that was her aunt.

Huh. Vivian wasn't sure how she felt about that beyond anger.

She stood up. "I'm going now. Don't call me about the funeral. I don't care."

"Vivian, wait." Her cousin called after her. Against her better judgement, Vivian stopped. "I'm sorry. But… we shouldn't let our parents, y'know, stop us from being family. Friends."

Vivian actually felt appalled. "You want to be _friends?_ Lindsey, your mother abandoned me. I didn't have to go into the system. But she didn't just let that happen, she signed me away and said she never wanted to see me. Ever!"

The younger woman argued back, "I'm not my mother! And I'm not our grandparents! Don't you get it? We're _it_! We're the only ones left—"

"No," snarled Vivian. " _You_ _'_ _re_ the only one left. They cut me out nineteen years ago. I want nothing to do with any of it."

Lindsey looked shocked. "You don't know anything about it."

Dropping her voice low, Vivian replied. "Neither do you." She took a deep breath, "Holly? She's not my Mom's best friend, she's my mom too. Okay? They're married. They've been married over twenty years! And I have a girlfriend. She asked me out after an arson case. My roommate is a guy and one of my best friends because I trust him. My classmates, the people you met when you just showed up at my work, are my friends too. But so are all those old cops. That's my family. The people who didn't have a goddamn reason to let me in. No ... No ulterior motives. You. You only wanted to know me because I _might_ save your mom. Well guess what? I can't. So you can go back to fucking Barrie and I don't have to talk to you ever again."

As Vivian turned to go, Lindsey shouted. "Your parents aren't your fault! And my mother isn't mine!" It did give Vivian a moment of pause. "I don't know what it was like, you're right. And.. And I know my Dad's an idiot."

"How does that make it better?" Vivian looked back. "Moms have to deal with shit like that all the time. I'm not bringing more to them."

Her cousin swallowed. "You love them."

"I do." It wasn't something she could explain. She didn't want to. She loved her Moms and at least that was simple.

"I'm sorry."

Vivian sighed. "We have nothing in common. You pretty much lied to me and tried to use me." She turned away, unable to look at her cousin, clenching her fists to still them. "I'm pissed at you. I'm pissed more at your mother. I'm going to be pissed off for a long time."

"So that's it? You're just going to be mad at me forever?"

"I don't know. I just know I'm mad now." She took a deep breath and walked out of the hospital.

Her hands were still shaking when she got to her mothers at their car.

"She shouted," said Holly, knowingly. And she held her hands, palms up, in Vivian's direction.

It took nothing more for Vivian to let her mother hug her close. "I'm sorry they're idiots, Mom."

Holly sighed and squeezed Vivian tight. "They can fuck themselves."

Laughing into Holly's shoulder, Vivian squeezed back. "I may have outed you to Lindsey."

"Good," said Gail, firmly. "No help for thick and dumb?"

"No point." She wasn't actually related to him anyway. "I'm still pissed."

With one more squeeze, Holly held her at arm's length to study her face. "That's okay. Be as pissed as you need to be for as long as you need to be, honey."

"Come on. Lets get you fed," Gail ordered, ushering them all into the car.

They went out to a restaurant, a nice vegan place that Gail actually liked. And if Gail liked it, well, everyone did. When Vivian made no move to be part of the conversation, Holly and Gail chatted around her, occasionally reaching out tendrils of topic.

It wasn't until Holly started speculating on the possibility of Vivian's marrow being needed anyway that she tuned back into the conversation at hand.

"There's still a possibility," said Holly thoughtfully. "Vivian's not a perfect match, but often when the choice is try nothing or try something that has a high possibility of rejection, you do the Hail Mary."

Gail shook her head. "Sports reference."

Holly rolled her eyes. "I know damn well you understood that, Peck."

"She won't," sighed Vivian, throwing her napkin down. "She won't try it."

"You don't know that." Holly frowned.

"I do, Mom. She won't for the same reason I wouldn't." Vivian eyed her mother. "I know you don't get it, but ... She doesn't want any more of the crazy shit in her. And if that means no marrow, that's fine."

Holly looked stricken and turned to Gail. "What?"

The blonde sighed. "I do understand, kiddo, but it's a little extreme."

"It is," said Vivian, nodding. "But that's why I changed my name, Moms. I, God, I was stupid but I kinda hoped being a Peck would cut it out of me or something. That I wouldn't be that kid anymore. And I know, it's naive and silly, but I wanted to be what something else was. Braver, stronger..."

Her mothers were quiet a moment. "That's not how it works," said Gail slowly.

"I know." Vivian glumly ate her last fry.

To her surprise, Gail snapped at her. "No, you don't. So listen a second, okay?" Gail stared at her for a bit. "Who and what you are, this is because of who you are. The name didn't make you anything. You did. You made yourself someone to be proud of, someone people want to befriend. You followed our footsteps and then you made yourself even more amazing. Kid... You are who you are not because of the name Peck. You made the name mean something better."

Oh.

Vivian blinked and looked down. She couldn't think of a single reply, so she just nodded a little, trying to let all that sink in.

She made the name better.

She, and Gail, made Pecks better.

Was that an easier pill to swallow than the one where she was screwed up? It was heavier and daunting, certainly.

Vivian sighed and nodded at Gail again. The only thing to do was keep walking and to see where the name took her, and where she took it

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivian is not a match for Aunt April, who will die of this cancer eventually. Will Viv ever be able to deal with Lindsey and the fact that she has a whole family like that? Not today. And maybe her actions will haunt her later as the wrong thing to do, but right now she just can't do it.
> 
> It's definitely intentional on my end to have Vivian reacting badly. She's not perfect. She could have handled all of this better. She didn't because she can't see through her anger at the whole mess. Thankfully she's pissed at April and not her Moms. She knows Gail and Holly were stuck and couldn't do the right thing, and doesn't blame them for it.
> 
> The world is always complicated.


	26. 03.05 - Stung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prominent soccer player apparently commits suicide. But all is not as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone 'liked' the last chapter. There were some very lengthy reviews (which I love!) but not as many short ones. That makes me worry I may have chased some of you off. I hope not. I'm betting on you trusting me to see this through.

The cheering was deafening, and Holly reveled in it. "Go Pride," she screamed at the field.

Beside her, her long suffering, non sporty wife sighed. "Why aren't we rooting for Toronto?"

"Because Chrissy Johnson plays for the Pride!"

Gail did not argue the point and merely asked, "She's the goalie?"

"Yes." Holly leaned forward. "Clear the ball!"

"And here I thought it was an elaborate gay joke..."

Sometimes she wondered why Gail wasn't more embarrassed about it. But there they were, at a professional women's soccer game, and Holly was screaming her fool head off and enjoying every single second. And really, it was Gail who had picked up the tickets in the first place. Toronto vs Orlando Florida, two games, and the winner would have the leading points in the league.

Gail, who still didn't really care for sports, was sipping a beer and watching the game without a single complaint. She hadn't even grumbled about the cold March rain that evening. Instead, Gail had just smiled and let Holly be an idiot for two hours.

It was down to the wire, too. The teams were evenly matched, so much so that it was impossible to know who might win. Tied up at 2 goals each and already in overtime, Holly prayed that Toronto would get one more before it went to penalty kicks. Johnson was just too good there for her town to eek out a win, not even with Toronto's vice captain, Murdoch, on the field.

And really Holly wasn't sure if she wanted them to win.

"Holly, she has short blonde hair," said Gail as the teams took a time out.

"Huh?"

"Your goalie. She's got my haircut."

Holly turned and looked at her wife. "Oh. She does," said Holly, feeling a blush creep up her face.

"And so does the one with an eight on her shirt."

"Murdoch. She's the vice captain." Holly sighed. "Yes, fine I like women with that haircut. Are you happy now?"

Gail smirked. "You are such a nerd." And Gail kissed her cheek softly. "Cheer your head off, Doc."

Of course she did.

As the seconds in overtime ticked down, Holly cheered and screamed until her throat was raw and Toronto lost in penalties. As she sucked on a throat lozenge, nattering to Gail about the game and how fun it was, the blonde just smiled quietly and nodded.

Very rarely did Gail say a thing against Holly's love of sports. She also rarely came along, but when she did, Gail was supportive and cheerful. Holly had long since given up trying to understand what did and didn't entertain Gail with regard to sports. Sometimes she seemed to happily follow along. Other times she just leaned back and watched in quiet.

That night was the watching. Gail smiled, certainly, but she watched. She held Holly's beer, laughed and smiled. She didn't complain a bit at the extra minutes, the penalty kicks, or the long wait to get to the car. She nodded along as Holly blabbed the whole ride home. And at home, she hung up Holly's coat and kept listening all the way upstairs.

Holly finally sorted out where Gail was headed in all of it when Gail followed her into the shower. It was the way Gail washing her back. The way Gail did things with ulterior motives. Which was really Gail most of the time.

From the very start, Gail unabashedly loved sex and was vocal about it. One dinner with Steve and Traci, shortly after the couple's engagement, had gone on too long in Gail's opinion. The blonde had informed Steve that unless he wanted this to be known as the dinner where Gail went down on Holly at the table, he should go home now.

There were things a person had to accept with Gail. And they were some of the things Holly loved most about her. Her nature was to bite the world, to attack before she was attacked. Now, in her current position of Inspector, few people attacked her. Few dared. Most people were terrified of her, quite frankly.

But Holly wasn't. She didn't have a reason to fear or hurt Gail. The blonde had lashed at her just the one time. After that, their fights all felt perfectly mundane. Squabbles over money and dishes and laundry and how to raise their daughter. Normal things.

And in bed, in the dark of Toronto's nights, they would whisper about things like futures and pasts. The night had gone from that which Gail feared to the safe place where she could reveal her thoughts. Retirement. Maybe SIU, maybe not. Maybe just being a wife would be enough for anyone, even one grumpy Peck.

None of that was the topic for that night. Gail pressed her lips to Holly's shoulder. "Did you have fun?"

Holly laughed as she looked at Gail, soap foaming in her hair. "Yes. Thank you. I know you hated it."

The blonde shook her head and stuck it under the spray. "No. I liked it." She fell silent as she washed the soap from her hair. "It's pretty to watch."

"That's the first I've heard that," said Holly. "From you, I mean."

Gail made a noise and splashed water at Holly's face. "You know there's art in everything, Holly. Even that horrible rock and roll you and the kid listen to."

"Says the woman who can sing along with every Kelly Clarkson song."

Smirking, Gail flicked water at her again. "Anyway, froggy, sports can be pretty to watch too, okay? It's like a modern dance, or something intentionally unchoreographed."

"Is that really a thing?"

Gail nodded. "It is." She smiled and kissed Holly's cheek. "Come on." Turning off the water, Gail took Holly's hand and led her out of the shower.

There was something curiously romantic about letting Gail dry her off. Not a common occurrence. The detective just kept smiling as she guided Holly back to the bedroom and their bed.

And then.

Holly didn't stay with Gail just for the sex, but the sex sure made a lot of things worthwhile and welcome. It wasn't about the sex, really, but the attention. They spent a lot of time that night just touching and traipsing well-known paths on each other. They laughed a little and made bad jokes while remembering everything that was everything. Until, finally, they fell asleep.

The ringing phone pulled Holly out of her slumber. "Dr. Stewart," she said, her voice rough and raspy.

"Oh, sorry. Should I call Wanda?" The voice was John's.

Holly rubbed her face. "No, I'm not sick. What's wrong?"

"There's been a death at BMO."

What? Holly sat up and glanced to her side. Gail was sound asleep. Naked. The blanket was pulled up to her chin. "Oh. We were... " She frowned. "Wait a second. Ensall's on call."

"Yeah... Um. I jumped the line. Looks like Barbara Murdoch hung herself in the shower."

Oh. Holly felt a little chill run through her. "I'll be there in twenty."

"Thanks, Doc. Sorry."

"No, no, that was right." She hung up and jiggled her head.

Gail didn't even move. Well. Frankly Holly was surprised she herself was even mobile just then. She sighed and took a quick, cold, shower before dressing. As she stepped out of the bathroom, the bed was empty and the hall light on. A quick check told her Gail's robe was missing. She was probably starting coffee.

"God I love that woman," said Holly to the empty room.

"I know," said Gail, yawning as she came back in. "I started coffee. Do you need me?"

"No, it's John's case."

Gail nodded, slithered out of her robe, and nakedly got back in bed. "Kay. Be safe."

That did not make it easy on Holly. She wanted to snuggle back up in that nice warm bed with that very lovely woman. But Gail had made coffee. Holly sighed and kissed her wife's forehead. "I will. Sleep."

Driving back to the stadium, Holly marveled at how quiet the city was at three in the morning. It was beautiful and still in the cold morning, crisp and pure. And she was going to look at the suicide of the vice-captain of the Toronto team.

The uniformed officer, a befuddled and awkward Hanford, led her to the women's locker room. Well. The home team's lockers. There were only the women playing right then.

"Why is Hanford terrified of you?" John was sitting on a bench with his tablet open, tapping in notes.

"He bought me a beer, with his drink tickets, at Fite Night a couple years ago. He's still waiting for Gail's revenge."

John sighed. "The amount of menace that woman exudes while not actually doing a goddamn thing is amazing." He stood up and eyed her feet. "Wellies?"

"Dispatch said the DB was in the shower?"

Grumbling like the curmudgeon he wasn't, John walked to the back. "So. The guard found her after maintenance called to ask why the water was still running. Called the family, but so far no one knows why she'd kill herself."

Holly looked up at the woman's body and sighed. "Me neither. She was fucking amazing last night. Tonight. She's why the game was so close." When John shot her a look, she added, "Gail and I were at the game."

"Gail? A soccer game?"

Just smiling, Holly made sure that photos had been taken. "Yowch, look at her feet."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Apparently they have a lot of foot problems. The turf is artificial this year, and it's been brutal. Janet was telling me about broken ankles."

"Ugh, I'd revolt." She studied the body and it's position thoughtfully. "Okay, this is weird."

"I wondered when you'd get there," said John with a snort.

There was no stool, no chair, no nothing to stand on in order to hang one's self. There were no stalls in the shower room either. In fact, the only thing in the shower room, besides a very dead woman, was a rolled up towel by the drain.

"This," said Holly softly. "This is a mystery."

* * *

It was very hard not to want to blast her air-horn app in John's ear, as he slept at his desk.

Instead, Gail fought her inclination to asshollery and put the coffee down. "Simmons. Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

"Liar," he mumbled and picked his head up. "I hate you. And your wife hates you too."

"She's probably napping in her office." Gail put down a bag on John's desk. "Also not a liar. Eggs, bacon, biscuit. From the good food truck you love." And Holly did not hate her. Gail had sent her wife breakfast before getting food for her favorite sergeant.

Blearily, John stared at her. "Oh my fucking god, you're the best boss ever." He scrambled and pulled out his beloved breakfast sandwich. The one Janet never let him have at home anymore.

"So I hear. Come on, catch me up on your crime and I'll let you nap in my office."

John nodded, shoving the breakfast into his mouth and following her into her office. "So Holly thinks it's weird."

"Never a good thing."

"Nothing to stand on. Neck didn't look like a fast break, like she fell from a height. It's weird."

Gail frowned and closed the door. "What did the videos show?"

"Locker room." John sat down and yawned. "No peep shows."

"Did you check for hiddens?"

"Oh yeah. Nada. Do you have a yogurt in there?"

Rolling her eyes, Gail got him the black cherry flavored from her fridge. "I only keep these for you." She tossed it over. "They don't watch the hallways? Prevent crazy fans from chasing down the girls?"

John nodded. "Apparently everyone knows how to disable them to sneak in groupies."

"Ugh. Why did I think the women wouldn't be as tawdry as the men."

"Athletes." He shrugged. "Turns out the gender doesn't matter, they're all horny bastards."

"This player known for being one?"

"Barbara Murdoch?" When Gail looked blankly at John, he groaned. "Seriously? You went to the game! Vice captain? Tall bleached blonde with hair like ... Yours? Tattoos?"

Oh. She did know that one. "Number eight. The one I teased Holly about," Gail said and nodded.

"Teased?"

Gail smirked and pointed to her own head. "Didn't I tell you? The haircut was originally her fault."

Her partner narrowed his eyes. "I'm pretty sure that's not the whole story. But." He sipped the coffee. "I will accept that Holly thinks blondes with short hair and pale skin are hot."

With a shrug, Gail sat in her chair and propped her feet on her desk. "So number eight is a player and sneaks ... dates into the locker room for sex?"

"Equal opportunity. Gents and ladies and everything else are her game. Were."

"Send the unies to find last night's date then."

John blinked. "I'm sure I would have thought of that if I wasn't so tired."

Gail smiled. "I'll ping McNally. Get a nap. I have to go interview some bomb experts anyway."

The man winced. "I'm sorry you've got Safary."

"Eh. Swarek fucked it up. Someone has to take over, and at this point, it should be me." She fired up her laptop and started reading through her notes and to-dos. A few minutes into it, she heard the snoring from her couch.

The snores of a man. How very odd that she found it comforting, but the reality was she did. John Simmons was one of two male constants in her life. Three if she counted Oliver, and Gail often did. Oliver was special in many ways. He was a rock for her and, by divine extension, Vivian.

But the two other men in her life had moved on. Steve was off at the family job, the other family job, with regular hours. Traci said he'd taken to cooking, but was no where near as good as Gail. And Oliver taught a class, now and then, down at the academy. Mostly he slept in, embarrassed his son. Jesus, how was Jerry almost eighteen? He was in his first year of college now, UoT, the early scholarship boy majoring in astro-mechanics. He wanted to work on space drones.

God. They were all growing up... Gail wondered what young Chris Epstein was going to be. He started college next year, and had made no attempt at a direction.

Maybe Gail was spoiled. She'd known what she was going to be. Going to _have_ to be. So did Holly. So did Vivian, really. It was normal for her family to have a direction before graduation. Even though she'd tried hard not to push or steer Vivian any which way, the kid was hers.

Ugh. Best not to think about getting old.

Gail checked her appointments and email. Everything was clear. She'd meet the bomb expert at the big building after a check with one of the supers, so maybe she could catch up with Holly for lunch. Quickly she filed the paperwork and skimmed her other cases. After making sure no other case needed her attention, Gail left John sleeping and told Pedro to make sure no one bothered him for a while.

Finding McNally was easy. It was just before shift change so the sergeant was in the parade room, sorting out assignments. "Always with the last minute changes?"

"Yeah," said Andy. "These dumb detectives keep screwing up my numbers."

"Surprise." Gail waved a print out. "I need warm bodies to interview and find a soccer groupie who banged a vic."

"Please tell me the sex was before the death."

"It's a hanging, so probably."

Andy made a face. "Your life is so exciting... Wait. Soccer? You mean Murdoch's really dead?"

Gail nodded. "The news got it right for once."

"Any preference?"

"Someone who can work with Simmons. It's his baby, I'm just messenger on my way out."

"Awfully nice of you."

"I can be nice," sneered Gail, and she turned around to walk out. "Don't say it, McNally, or I tell the rookies all about you blowing it as a hooker."

"Ice Queen!"

"Girl Guide!"

But Gail was sure they were both grinning. She was smiling still as she walked the ten minutes to the big building. It was strange still to go to her mother's old office for anything. Gail paused at the door and noted it was locked. Interesting. She glanced back at the empty secretary's desk. Nothing to do but wait. Gail turned to stroll down the quiet vestibule. Along the wall were pictures of the prior inhabitants, including the illustrious Elaine Peck. Gail stopped to regard her mother's photo.

"Oh, Inspector. They're running a little late." The secretary was out of breath. "Mayor ..."

Gail waved a hand. "Don't worry, I'm early."

The secretary looked relieved. "Espresso?"

"Sure." Gail turned back to the photos. "How long have you worked here?"

"Me, ma'am? About six years."

Six. "So you worked for Frank."

"Oh. Superintendent Best? I did. Yes."

Gail looked over her shoulder at the very tense and nervous secretary. "He was my TO. And sergeant. Back in the day." She looked down at the second to last photo, Frank in his dress blues. He looked more nervous than anything else.

The secretary said nothing. This sort of remembrance was clearly outside his wheelhouse. Gail smiled and looked at the last photo. The office no longer belonged to Internal Affairs. The current inhabitant was Dodge, a former rapid entry specialist from ETF. He'd been the boss when Sue was new. Which was why the superintendent who oversaw ROPE and ETF was the man to talk to about the current situation.

"Ah! Peck! Makes the place seem real again!" Dodge was a big man with a big voice.

"If this is the preamble to asking me about the supervisory job again, Dodge, blow it out your ass."

The man laughed, his voice booming. "God no. You'd be a shitty Staff Inspector. Come on. Ron, coffee and let me know when Randolph gets here." Dodge unlocked the door and walked in. "The perks are pretty sweet, though."

Gail made a face. "This was my mom's office, Dodge."

He paused. "Oh yeah. Used to be IA up in here. Probably will be again. All the juggling... Hey, that reminds me. I saw the name Peck on the high scores for the ETF entrances. That was yours, huh?"

"My kid, yeah. Any news on that budget?"

Dodge shook his head. "Wish I had any news on that one. God knows we need more people out there."

Sitting down, Gail stretched out her legs. "I'm taking the Safary case. Officially."

The big man stared at her. "How bad did Swarek fuck up?"

"We can't use those stables anymore." She shrugged. "I think he's too aggressive about it."

"Well. Sam's always been a little... Yeah." Dodge sighed and glanced as Ron walked in with a pair of cups. "Thanks, Ron. Close up behind you." The secretary nodded and closed the door behind himself, as requested. "So what's your take?"

Gail sipped the coffee and, for a fleeting moment, regretted her choice to stay in Fifteen. Holy crap, that coffee was amazing. "I think the rooks spotted either the accomplice or Safary."

"That woman?" Dodge sounded doubtful.

Gail arched an eyebrow. "Got a problem?"

Dodge laughed. "No, of course not. But it seems too neat and tidy."

"Sure if I had more leads than horses, hay, antiques, and sand." She shrugged. "I need some people who can make bombs out of nothing and help me track down connections with the victim's businesses."

That had always been how Gail solved crimes. Understanding people, or at least criminals. That gave her answers. But the more she'd looked at the victims, the more she felt it was the wrong path. Their businesses, over the decade or so of Safary's activity, had been the ties that bound.

"Businesses."

"People I know. I need someone who looks at companies. I want to see if there's a connection between them. Humane mistreatment. Embezzlement. Something evil businesses do."

"You have no idea, huh?"

"Generally the motives I handle are people. Rage. Hatred. Jealousy. And how that roles into bombs."

"They're pretty much the same for business. Just think of them as people."

"Isn't that what nearly destroyed American politics?"

They shared a laugh. "God, can you believe they elected Trump?"

"We elected Ford," Gail pointed out.

"Good point." Dodge sighed. "Okay, why me?"

"You know bombs and you can find me someone who gets that and the business end. Unless you've just fucked off that last ten in white collar."

Dodge snorted. "Aren't you buddy buddy with a million Inspectors?"

"Sure. But I need a super for this. I need some weight, and since Gladstone thought it was fucking brilliant to hide that whole gay crap from me last year..." She trailed off and extended her hands, palms up.

Dodge sighed again. "What's in it for me?"

"Four letters." She leaned forward and smiled. "Four letters to give you connections and resources and access to millions of officers who will do your bidding without a second thought." When Dodge eyed her curiously, she grinned. "P. E. C. K."

* * *

"There's a new guy in the locker room," said Christian, fixing his belt.

"Transfer?" Vivian scratched her arm.

"I guess." Christian frowned. "When's the next class?"

"Spring… So now, I guess." She hadn't asked about the class but probably should. Oliver would know. He'd been talking about teaching another class. He'd was good at it, he usually gave them a nice lecture about how to behave and care about people, but had skipped her class. That was when he'd had his ear surgery.

"Was the academy weird?" Lara popped in, joining the conversation. "Det. Price came and taught us about UC ops and, like, you know her."

Chloe's class in behavioral patterns to be aware of while undercover was, as it happened, one of Vivian's favorites. "Not really." Vivian shrugged. "The dichotomy of family is normal."

"Toonie word," said Lara and held out her hand.

Vivian sighed and dug a toonie out of her pocket. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're moody and weird and using big words. Until you stop, you pay up a toonie."

"Dichotomy is not a two dollar word. It's practically mundane."

"Careful, or I start double charging."

Shoving her hands deep into her pockets, Vivian kept silent this time. Moody. Yes. She was moody, and sleeping poorly, and a little ranty lately. "Come on," said Christian. "Come to my match on Friday."

"No," said Vivian firmly.

"I haven't even told you who I'm fighting!"

"Historically Pecks do poorly at fights," said Vivian, this time coolly. "Remember Fite Nite?"

"So we warn Jamie in advance. Come ooooon. Matty and Enrique are coming."

The last thing Vivian felt like seeing was her friend get beat up in a kickboxing/MMA cage match. Besides the fact that the very idea of a cage match tugged her heart strings (forcing anyone to fight, human or animal, seemed unusually cruel), she did have a bit of a fear about family history.

And, more than any of that, she was just not in the right mind frame for enjoying that kind of thing. It wasn't fair in the slightest and she knew it, intellectually. But she was just miserable lately. Things that were fun hadn't been. Like the world had a general malaise to it, a dull sheen that made things grey.

"Settle down," said Andy, cutting into her thoughts. "Gagnon, up front."

An unfamiliar face in a tie stumbled as he rushed to the front of the room. "Ma'am."

"Coppers, this is our new transfer, Patrick Gagnon. Gagnon, you're with Fuller. Do what he says." The young man nodded and stayed where he was. "That means go sit with him."

The room laughed as Gagnon quickly took the seat on the other side of Christian. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Today we have a change of pace. Volk, you're with the Ds helping interview. Peck, you're herding the masses at the stadium."

Vivian blinked and looked up from her notes. "Ma'am?"

"Major Crimes hasn't released the scene, so the practice today will be held at the old Expo stadium. Fans need directing."

Behind her, Vivian heard someone ask who the Expos were. Holly would cringe. "Traffic cop, yes'm."

"You'll have a couple cops from Thirty-Four and some of the PEOs, but you're in charge. Fuller, take your rook and back her up. Hanford, I know you're at the odd end of a double but please try not to piss off ETF again." A rumble of laughter ran through the room. Last month the ETF goons had tied Rich up at the end of shift and hung him off a hook. "Everyone else, assignments are on the board. Serve. Protect. Don't screw up. Dismissed."

Vivian checked the board, making sure she was solo in her car. Good. The moods she'd been in, she'd end up with someone as chatty as Chloe. The flip side was Andy had given her 1504. Damn it. She glanced at the sergeant who flicked her eyes at, surprisingly, Gagnon.

Huh. Whatever. It wasn't a common name, but it wasn't super rare.

As she kitted up, her phone buzzed. Jamie was wishing her a safe day.

"Hey, look! She has a smile." Christian grinned and slapped her back. "Tell Jamie I say hi."

"Why would I do that?" Vivian rolled her eyes and texted back that she'd try. "Hey, Gagnon, not that radio. Get the one in the end."

The rookie froze. "Oh. Yes, ma'am." He dropped the radio. "Uh. Why? Is it bad luck?"

"That one has problems with signal interference. BMO and Expo are near towers. You'll miss half the calls." She turned her phone to silent and shoved it away, taking the bad radio. Why they never replaced it, she never understood.

Vivian didn't really listen to Gagnon ask C about how she'd known all that. The science stuff of life was easy. It had always pained Holly a little that she'd not followed up on it, but it wasn't really what drove her. Vivian liked it. Holly loved it. Turning the radio over in her hands, Vivian felt a strange surge of anger at it. Why did they keep a broken radio around? It was always causing problems, it put people at risk.

They should just ... get rid of it.

She didn't think about it. She just popped the back off and unfurled the wires. There was a spark, so she flicked the battery out and tossed it onto the table. She knew the schematics. This was basic shit. The bad chip stared her in the face, connected poorly and with a wire that might be the cause of half the problems.

"Can she do that?"

"Shut up, rookie," said Christian, firmly.

Vivian pulled out her knife and glanced over as Gagnon yelped. "You're way too skittish." She trimmed and sheared the wire, carefully putting it back together. As she screwed down a wire, Vivian saw a dark spot. "For fucks sake, what are we paying for..." She ruthlessly yanked out the chip and went over to the quartermaster's window. "Needs replacing," she growled, slapping it down.

"Damn it, Peck! I need a form for that!"

"It's a broken chip, Hall!"

She ignored his shouts, and the looks from her fellow patrol officers, as she went to motor pool for her car.

Unlike the radio, the car was just cursed. Shot at, set on fire, submerged... Twice actually. A horse kicked in the passenger window. And crapped on it. A chunk of cement had taken out the windshield. Thus far, the best she could say was that no one had yet died in the vehicle.

Distracting herself, Vivian tried to list everyone she'd known and their mishaps in the car. It included her mother, caught making out with Chris before Vivian was born, let alone adopted. She smiled, thinking about the story from Dov, who had broken his leg pinned next to the car. Gerald had stopped an axe with his head. Sadly the non pointy end. Even Holly had a story about the damned 1504, when the emergency brake failed and it had run through a crime scene, right over the body.

She was in a somewhat better mood, or at least as mercurial as her friends were used to, by the time everyone got to the parking lot. And since she was in charge that day, having a serious mien was all but expected of her.

A day in the warming May weather, directing traffic and dealing with people who didn't check messages about changes to an open practice.

* * *

A full night of sleep helped.

Holly sat with her coffee and read the initial report she'd made about the body. BA levels were within tolerance. Probably a couple beers or whiskey. It was impossible to tell since the bladder had been voided, probably in the moment of death, and evidence washed away. Time of death was also an unknown, since the body had been strung up under the hot water.

Well no. John had emailed her the day before to tell her four important things.

First of all, the hot water usage had been noted by three AM, which was when the body was found. Second, the last anyone saw Murdoch on a security camera was at one fifteen. Third, she had not been alone. Fourth, her booty call had left her at around ten till two, calling an ride at one fifty-four. They tracked his phone. Murdoch's phone never left the stadium from booty call on. Fifth, there were no burns on Murdoch.

Holly yawned. "A towel." She looked back at her notes. Determining if the groupie was telling the truth was, mostly, John's job. Holly's was to determine how the hell someone had been able to hang themselves without a damned ladder.

Scouring the building (or rather, using uniforms and techs to do it), there was nothing that gave Murdoch the height needed to both hang herself and attach the rope. That meant there had to be an accomplice. She had a slew of possible stools and chairs that fit the bill for hanging only. Except...

The shower floor was at a slight angle. It had to be for water drainage. So that ruled out every chair or stool that slid. Or not... The towel could have been used to brace the legs and let it stay still until... What?

Closing her eyes, she tried to picture the scene. Murdoch stood on a stool, braced by the towel, under the steady beat of hot water. It would have hurt. The water was aimed at her lower legs while she'd hung, so when standing, it would have hit her ... Chair? Odd. Well. _Carry on the thought, Stewart_ , she told herself. Murdoch could have easily rocked any chair or stool, send it flying, and broken her neck.

"Test all the possible chairs for water," she said aloud, and then typed it into her assignments. "Start with the chairs of either under ten inches or over ... Fourteen inches." At roughly a foot, the water would have blasted the platform and made it slippery. Still plausible, but suicides, assisted or otherwise, didn't want to make it harder to kill themselves. Not when they went to this level of planning.

Damn it.

"I don't like this," Holly snapped at her monitor.

She sent out the orders anyway, but it bothered her. It didn't feel like a suicide. While people always said it could be hard to tell, Holly felt she had an affinity to identifying suicides. There was a different feel, a staging. Not that suicides were theatrical by nature, but they had a very look and design that was different from murder.

It was probably just experience. Thirty years of experience had to pay off somewhere. At this point, it was simply an assured, gut feeling. This was _not_ a suicide. Even if her gut didn't scream it at her, Holly knew the evidence shouted it too. It was physically impossible for someone to hang themselves without leverage.

Hanging was the most common death by suicide in Canada. It wasn't always as clear cut as just tying a rope around the neck and letting go. Ropes often broke. Ligature points failed. And survivors ...

Holly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, shoving her glasses up.

It was entirely uncharitable, unkind, and mean of her, but she was grateful she only dealt with the dead. Pathology had been an early calling, true. It was reinforced when, in medical school, she and Rachel had worked the case of a young man with cystic fibrosis who had bungled a suicide attempt.

His second attempt was successful.

Three peoples' lives, forever changed.

After that, Holly had spent time studying the methods of suicide, to better help bring answers to people. She would never be able to understand why, but if she could explain how, then maybe they could have some peace.

Years later, when the nation had legalized assisted suicide, Holly and Rachel had raised a glass to that young man. He had changed both their views on the situation. He had made them both better doctors of their craft.

She settled her glasses back and sighed.

Suicide. It was a strange business. Why would a star soccer player, on track to play in the World Cup and then Olympics kill herself? She wasn't pregnant, she didn't have any disease that Holly could find, and she wasn't on drugs. It could just be depression, but there were no symptoms to that. Not that there always were.

And damn it all, a suicide by hanging with nothing to stand on was weird, plain and simple. It didn't make a lick of sense. It was illogical and it was pissing Holly off.

"Someone had to move the stool. Chair. Whatever."

Whatever.

When Gail said that, she always threw her hands up and planted her feet on the table. Filthy feet.

Whatever.

Feet.

Holly dove at her keyboard and pulled up the photos of the body. "Feet, feet, feet," she hissed at herself. "How could I be so obtuse?"

The soles of the feet. Holly was pretty sure that the feet were wrong. Or at least not normal. Athletes had terrible looking feet. They had turf toe. Their nails looked horrific. They had blisters and calluses and a million other problems. They had ankle problems galore, thanks to the artificial turf.

But they _didn_ _'_ _t_ have marks of that size or shape on the soles. They had blisters, but the feet of the dead soccer player had marks that didn't look quite right. Holly googled for 'soccer player feet' and regretting it immediately. Ew. There was a reason she wasn't a podiatrist. Feet, even Gail's, could be nasty.

Burns. They were burns. And without the blackened marks of heat it left only one logical theory. Frozen. Freezer burns. Could a person stand on ice so long and so still it burnt them? And was she really, truly, certain that soccer players didn't have feet that looked like this?

What Holly really needed was representational images to back up her theory.

She snatched her phone up and tapped John's number.

"Hey, Doc, got anything—"

"I need photos of the soles of the feet of the other players."

John paused a moment. "How many?"

"As many as possible. And I'm sending you a bill."

"For… what?"

"Ice."

* * *

Without even thinking, Gail signed the approval for the bill.

"You're not looking!" The secretary snapped at her.

Gail slowly looked up at the young man. "The forensics lab is billing us for hot water and ice as part of an experiment."

"But—"

"Are you familiar with the scientific process? The lab has a theory as to the death of a prominent soccer player. Major Crimes is investigating said death. Being charged for research is par for the course." Gail reached up and slowly took her glasses off. She never let her eyes leave the face of the young secretary, who was growing more and more nervous by the second. Letting her glasses dangle from her fingers, Gail waited two heartbeats and then went on. "Should the crime be solved and the lab receive credit from the province for a newly discovered methodology, we receive a portion of the reward. I strongly recommend you not challenge lab requests, especially not from Dr. Stewart. She wasn't the youngest chief medical examiner by a fluke."

The secretary stared at her for a moment, his face and neck turning rather red. Then took his tablet and left without a word.

Only after he was down the hall did Andy and John break down laughing.

"Jesus," cackled Andy. "I forgot you did shit like that."

"Like what?" Gail scowled.

"That was textbook Gail Peck for 'you are stupid.' Man, you're good at that," said John. "I'm kind of terrified now."

"I think I'm a little gay, Gail."

"Oh god, Andy, shut up!" Gail sighed. She still had a reputation for things. At least she could make use of it. "Anyway. He's an idiot." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "What the hell is the ice for?"

"Same thing I need patrol to stay at the game and photograph the soles of the players' feet. The doc thinks it's a clue. I don't question Dr. Stewart."

They all chuckled a little. "Alright, that's smart," said Gail.

"And not just because she's your wife." Andy grinned. "She's like, the smartest person we know."

John shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch. "I take it you didn't call me— us here for this?" He tilted his head by way of apology to Andy.

"No. No. I have to go to Regina."

Andy made a face. "Saskatchewan? Who'd you piss off?"

"We have some evidence tying the Safary crimes to a shipping business in Saskatchewan."

"Shipping? Not the Roses..." John looked shocked

Gail nodded at her sergeant. "The very ones. Will, a cousin, agreed to let us go over the records. But only if I was there. They feel I have the right propriety."

"Can't we just get a warrant?"

"Not enough evidence. Judge said he'd rather we had something more concrete."

That had been an entertaining conversation. The Rose family had actually come in to talk to Gail about it. As soon as they understood they weren't suspect but possible witnesses, they were very willing to help out. Discreetly. Gail couldn't blame them. The fallout from Aston's death and smuggling had been tremendous. They'd lost the contract with the Discovery Channel, the entire water shipping deals, and the whole American agreement.

In short, they needed good press. Helping the police might do that.

"What do you have?" Andy sounded curious.

"Not much. Here, I'll show you." Gail tapped her keyboard and the wall sprang to life. "Safary's been blowing up business. It took a while to sort that out, since the train station and places like the zoo fucked us up."

Surprising her, Andy spoke up. "The Zoo was bought out by that idiot from Eastern Europe. He has the whole chain of 'em. Privatized the zoos in Canada and the Eastern US..." Andy stopped when she realized both Gail and John were staring at her. "What? Holly was talking about it at the softball barbecue."

Of course. Holly. Gail laughed. "Well she's right. His company has been hounded by animal rights activists. They ship the animals in some pretty horrific ways."

"Straw?" John looked thoughtful.

"Not related. But the shipments follow a pattern which is similar to the Roses. Mostly in..." She held out her hands. "Fucking Regina. Crime capital of Canada."

"Isn't that Winnipeg?" John frowned.

"Only for violent crimes."

Andy shook her head. "It bothers me that you know that, Gail."

Gail flipped her off. "Wanna get more bothered?" She tapped a key. "Blue are all the _possible_ Safary bombings. Red is confirmed."

Eleven blue dots lit her screen. There were six more in red.

Ted Kaczynski had, over the course of seventeen years, sent out fifteen confirmed bombs across the United States. Over 150 law enforcement officers worked on the cases, struggling to paint a picture of the bomber before forging that in favor of evidence.

Unlike Kaczynski, Safary had yet to leave unique evidence, except the name. They hadn't even noticed the name at first, either. It was only in recent years that they'd recognized the graffiti as recurring. Ames, one of Holly's techs, had pieced together photographic evidence to prove the name was at the six confirmed bombings.

"Is seventeen a lot?" Andy was puzzled.

"For twenty years, yeah." Gail sighed. "Funny thing is, except for the one at the train station, Safary doesn't kill."

John shook his head. "Does calling it that make it easier?"

"No, not really." Running a hand through her hair, Gail stared at her board. Calling it the explosion that had killed some friends didn't help either.

"It's creepy," said Andy. "ETF nearly always disarms his— her— Safary's bombs without any loss of life. Even the ones that do go off are set to cause minimal damage. It's like... It's like it's for show."

That was the conclusion Gail had come to as well. "Damned if I know for what."

"A socialist bomber? Scare to make the world fair?" John scratched his chin. "What was the chain at the train station?"

"Oh, the newspapers," said Gail. "Embezzlement. I managed to get our forensic account friend looking into it."

John whistled. "How'd you do that? I thought our budget was cooked!"

"Bribery. How else?" She smirked. "He's looking at all the confirmed bombings to see if there's something shady going. I'm hoping the Roses will have some enlightening evidence since their routes take them past this cluster here." Regina lit up on the screen. It had been the location of a circus incident.

"Oh," said Andy knowingly. "Hence Saskatchewan."

"Exactly."

The newest sergeant huffed and gripped her belt. "How long will you be gone?"

"Hopefully just a week. But I need you two to be on the lookout. Safary's pretty known for waves. Five bombs, gone for years. We've had two, if we count the zoo last year. Three if we count the Swarek fiasco. I'd imagine we'll get more."

Both sergeants nodded. Only Andy spoke. "I get why John. But why me?"

Gail hesitated. "Because Swarek. He cocked it up, but no one understands the way that man's mind works better than you, Andy. I'm ... I'm hoping you can see his plan and put things right."

Andy looked liked a bit of a stuffed fish. Unpleasantly surprised. A little offended. A little daunted. "Gail... Sam's a detective. I've never—"

It was John who cut in. "Never officially been a detective, but Andy, find me someone who's worked in more areas of policing. If anyone can look at the random locations and businesses, and deploy active pressure via the unis, it's you."

After Andy left, a little giddy from the praise, Gail smiled. "Do you really have that much faith in McNally?"

John smiled back. "I do. Besides, this way she won't yell at me for assigning all her uniforms to photograph feet for your wife."

* * *

"My what?"

Vivian sighed. "Feet, ma'am."

The captain of the squad stared at her. "Is this a pick up line, kid?"

"No ma'am, I'm not hitting on you. Also ew?" Vivian held up her phone. "The Medical Examiner's office requested photographs of everyone's feet."

It had gotten the uniformed patrol officers out of traffic cop duty at BMO, which was nice at least. Forensics had released the stadium late yesterday, causing the New York team to complain that they'd not gotten to practice on site. That ended up with the police watching BMO that morning. The actual traffic cops had taken over for the game itself, along with the auxiliaries. But it did mean Vivian, one of the two female cops on hand, had to be there for all the photographs. To make it less pervy.

It wasn't working.

The captain sighed. "We haven't showered."

"Apparently that's better." Vivian gestured. "If you'd all sit and hold your feet up, we can get through it pretty fast and get out of your hair." She paused. Mostly. She had to stay while they showered.

Awkward. Fucking weird and awkward.

"Both feet?"

"Yes please. And we need to know if you're right or left - er - footed."

Now multiple players eyed her. "Dude, are you making some weirdo database of feet?"

Vivian shrugged. "I'm just a patrol officer, ma'am."

"God, do not call me that." The goalie laughed. "I bet we're the same age. Do you need our positions?"

"No, we can get that from your coaches. Including the fact that your best striker was playing fullback tonight."

The women looked at her. "A fan?"

"My mom is a huge soccer nerd." Vivian hesitated and then remembered what Oliver always said. Be nice. Connect with people and they'll tell everything. "She was at the game two nights ago, actually."

"Nice," said the goalie. "Okay, take mine. I'm right footed."

"You're left handed," said the regular fullback, who sat and held her feet up. "I'm left and left."

The goalie snorted. "I'm better with my right for kicking. Switched over last year and my goal kicks got an extra four feet on average, thank you."

Vivian gestured at Christian to join her. "You know we only get 500 characters to record this..." She tapped the app open, took the photos, and typed in the information.

"You have an app?" The captain was astounded.

"Physical evidence collection," said Gagnon, taking a photo. "It's really neat. See, we take the photos and they're directly uploaded to the forensic's secure server. We just have to put in names, dates, and vital—"

"Hey, rookie?" Vivian threw her voice in her best Gail deadpan. "More work, less talk please."

The soccer team laughed.

After they took everyone's photo, Vivian kicked the boys out and took up a post at the wall.

"So, do you always have to have a female cop around when you talk to women?" The left wing looked at her thoughtfully, pulling a shirt on.

"No, not always. It can help, though." She gripped her belt and shrugged.

"Gotta be girls only to hang out in here though, eh?"

Oh. If they only knew. "Legally, yes."

"What happens with, like, searches? I mean, what if someone's like Tianna?"

Vivian blinked. "Tianna?"

"Yeah, left fullback? Tianna's non-binary."

"Oh. We ask everyone what gender they prefer to search them." They'd done that for the last decade, as Vivian recalled.

The winger made a noise of amusement. "Man, prisons must be a mess now, with segregation."

"Eh, about the same as locker rooms. Isn't the center midfielder for LA a non-op?"

The 'scandal' had been international. An MTF, Elizabeth Duran had not been the first transgender player, but she was the first who had no plans for surgery. She certainly presented as a woman, and when she'd been hired, three of her prospective team members had protested.

All three had been released from their contracts without penalty.

That was a thought. Motive. They'd so far come up short with motive. Lara had lamented about that. She'd been in charge of the interviews, her in-uniformed assignment. Vivian was trying hard not to be jealous of that. She wanted to actually get to work in ETF for real, not the bullshit of uniformed assignments. She wanted to work on defusing bombs and building them. Taking out the technical machinations of morons.

Morons. Mechanical. Vivian looked up.

"Hello? Officer Peck?"

She blinked and looked at the winger. "Sorry. How many of you guys know how to knock out the video camera outside?"

The woman smirked. "Shit everyone. It's triggered by the doors. All you have to do is take a flash camera at it, and it's down."

Vivian smirked. "The camera flash? Wow. How long's that last?"

"Couple minutes. More than enough to slip in."

More than for anyone to slip in and kill someone.

She was still thinking about that when Christian and Patrick came by with lunch. Or dinner, depending on ones point of view.

"Ma'am," said Patrick as he handed over a container. "How long do we have to stay?"

"First, don't call me ma'am. Call me Peck. Second, until dispatch reassigns us."

"Yes ma— Peck."

Beside him, Christian snickered. "Why do you ask, Gagnon?"

"Well... It seems weird. We took photos and everyone's gone home except staff."

Vivian eyed the food. Steamed buns. "C, it's bad enough you're on this vegetarian kick, but steamed buns?"

"Yours have pork, Viv, shut up."

Well. That was better. She took a bite and nodded. "Alright."

Their conversation seemed to confuse Patrick. Christian didn't seem to want to explain either, which was fine. Just fine. Vivian ate her pork bun and studied the layout of the hallway.

Motives were not her thing. Gail was great at. She stared at people and saw their entire lives. Holly and Vivian both struggled to understand why people did evil. Vivian just knew it in her bones, that people did terrible things.

The last thing she felt capable of processing were feelings and motives, not even her own. She rubbed her arm where they'd drawn her cells. The more time that went on from her little family surprise, the more Vivian doubted herself. Cancer was a genetic time bomb for sure, but so was insanity. Would she wake up in a few years and be like her father?

Worse, the frustration she felt at the situation wasn't getting any better. Vivian was still angry. She'd even snapped at Matty, telling him to shut up about the series of bad jokes the other night. The ability to hold back her angry thoughts was slipping away, like smoke through her fingers.

Vivian sighed and looked at the cameras. The parkour nerd in her contemplated the way she'd approach the entry. Assuming the killer knew the victim was in there, it would be a matter of avoiding the cameras and, if she had an accomplice, flashing them so her partner could follow. Not that it would be easy...

"Hey, Gagnon," she finally said. "You were on videos yesterday, right?"

"Yes, yes- um, yes. I was."

"Okay. Did you see anything... Weird? Flashes of light?"

"Light? Um. No. Why?"

"What stream were you looking at?"

"The parking lot to the, um, here?"

That meant someone didn't worry about being seen or they knew how not to be seen. Which ... Putting down her bun, Vivian stretched and got up. "I bet I can get from the parking lot to here in ten minutes without being seen by the camera."

"Without any ninja magic?" Christian wiped his hands and grinned when Vivian nodded. "Gagnon, stand here and open the stopwatch app on your phone. I'll go to the cameras."

As Christian ran off, excited, Patrick looked terrified. "Are we allowed to do this?"

Realistically, Vivian had only out and out broken the rules once, and it nearly got Rich killed. It had been Rich's idea, but still. "Our job was to photograph feet and send the data back. Then to monitor the locker rooms until we're told to go home. You, Gagnon, are monitoring the locker door. Fuller and I are running an experiment to see if we can give the Ds some help."

The expression from Gagnon was odd. He looked at her name tag and then her face. "I trust you, Peck," he said seriously.

That was weird. "Radio on. Channel 7."

And she went out to the parking lot.

* * *

"I am a genius," she announced to John as he walked into her office.

"I dunno, you married Gail."

"Blisters."

John eyed her. "You had me blow my budget for blisters."

Holly grinned. "Come to my laboratory," she told him in her best monster movie voice. "See what's on the slab."

The detective muttered about how she was insane, but followed her. "If this is half as smart as your damn kid last night..."

Holly paused at the elevator. "Do I even want to know?"

"She figured out how to get through the whole fucking building without being caught on camera. The security firm blew a gasket."

"Oh." Holly smirked. "They should have hired Steve."

"Maybe Steve oughta hire her." John grinned back. "She also found out _every_ player knows how to knock out the cameras."

That did not surprise Holly, and she gestured for John to follow her off the elevator. "Well, hopefully I can narrow down the specs for your killer."

"God, please." John grimaced and then asked. "You built a shower?"

"We built that last year for the Cassidy stabbing," said Ananda Ames, one of the co-lead techs. Holly adored her and had been encouraging her career lately. She'd even proofed Ananda's last paper.

"And I see my ice." John tilted his head. "And the towel. Son of a bitch. The towel braced the damn ice while the water ran to melt it? That's genius."

"Sometimes criminals are quite innovative," admitted Holly.

John gestured at the other oddity in the wet room. "How ... _What_ is that?"

They watched as the lab techs muscled a dummy onto the block of ice and looped the noose around it's neck. "That is Buster Murdoch," said Holly, brightly. "Buster is the same weight and height of our deceased. His legs are extendable, you see..." She grinned. "It takes a minimum of two people to hoist her up like that."

John scratched his sideburns. "She was naked to boot. Was she drugged?"

"Mass. Spec. says no," announced Ananda. "A little drunk. But..."

Holly smiled. "She was choked."

The detective frowned. "Not by the rope."

Holly shook her head. "A rear naked choke hold, to be specific. The bruising was covered by the ligature marks." She gestured at the dummy. "Now, even a small person can apply an RNC and knock someone out. Children can take out grown adults."

"Small people can't wrangle a muscular soccer player up like that." John gestured at the dummy.

"Archimedes could." Holly gave John an ear to ear grin.

John's eyes widened. "The overhead pipes? Seriously?"

"The cross post, actually, and yes. With the right setup, a person could haul her up with minimal effort. And the rope was climbing rope. Easy to cut horizontal but not vertical, so you can get rid of the excess."

The man frowned and looked up. "Climbing rope. Common... But knowing how to set those things up, that takes more specialized knowledge to do it right." He juggled his head. "That's my bone. Sorry. Show me your ice magic, Elsa."

Holly nodded. "These socks are thermal and use Bluetooth to talk to the computer. Ananda, if you please?"

Her lead tech grinned and slipped the socks onto the dummy before helping the men hoist it into place. "Here's where it gets fun, detective." The noose was tightened and pulled up so only the toes rested on the ice block. Then they turned on the water, aimed at the block.

After a moment, John swore. "Son of a fucking bitch... Can that even kill someone?"

"Oh yes," said Holly, nodding. "The slow hanging actually was a common method before it was deemed inhumane. How it works is by pressure. As the body bears more and more on the rope, it pinches until—"

"I got it. Tell me that she passed out before she ..."

"Asphyxiated. And yes, she did before she died. The lack of struggling is a give away. There's just one problem."

"Oh?"

"Watch the monitor with her socks."

John tilted his head and watched as the ice melted and the body slowly sunk and strangled itself. "What are those super black spots?"

"Cold so strong it's burning," said Ananda. "Should I..." Holly nodded and the woman put photos of the soles of Murdoch's feet up next to the sock data.

"It's not quite the same," John said. Attentive and alert as always.

"No. The feet would have to stand on the balls of the feet, then the toes, for a lot longer to get that kind of mark." Holly sighed. "We estimated at 10 minutes on the toes."

John swallowed. "She was awake."

"Yeah." Holly scratched her chin. "Long enough for the ice to burn her feet before she passed out."

Visibly, John shuddered. "Anyone ever asks you if we get used to this death shit, tell 'em they're idiots."

After John left with his data, and they theory that two people or more had strung her up, Holly went back to processing what evidence there was. Water didn't wash it all away, and the whole reason she'd shut down BMO for a day was to get someone to run the damn water pipes for trace.

Of course, with two soccer squads and refs showering, the chance of anything useful was slim. She'd had them check the drain from the home team shower and then the sinks, assuming the killer's trace would be on top. Nothing useful.

They'd checked the towel for anything, scraps of DNA. Ditto the rope. The locker hand prints from hundreds of people. There was no trace on the clothes either. That part was weird, until John had announced her clothes were missing. Whomever killed her took the clothes with them.

Creepy assed killers.

Back in the sanctity of her office, Holly groaned and pushed her hair out of her face. She'd used up her brilliance on the ice. Which was amazingly genius, if she did say so herself. The blisters had been the clue. And once she latched on to the idea of the ice, her brain placed the towel and it all made sense.

Except for the part about how the killer had gotten a partly conscious, very athletic woman strung up like that. "One person could do it," she told herself. "Could. I could do it, if sufficiently motivated. So ... Assume one. How would I do it."

Holly got up and paced, thinking it through. It would be easiest if the victim was dry, so she would have done it after the sex (consensual) and before the shower (which wasn't a shower, hence why they'd still found trace of spermicide). She would have waited until the victim was changing and then locked her in a sleeper hold. Any trace from herself would be rinsed off. Once unconscious, she could drag the body into the showers and toss the rope over.

Anyone who did sailing or climbing would have known how to do the necessary knots. And if not, the Internet existed for a reason. Assume one. Assuming one person was to assume planning. Therefore she carried on with her idea that the person brought the rope and knew how to string a person up.

She paused. "Tugging her up by her neck would've woken her up."

Tapping her keys, she pulled up the autopsy photos. There had been faint marks under the arms. Holly had assumed they were from the RNC, which could be done with the legs hooked around and locked to hold someone well and truly in place. But. It could also be rope bruises. If the killer had cinched the rope tight, it wouldn't cause what people normally thought of as rope burn.

Clever, clever. She pulled up the photos of the support beams and checked them. The tall ceiling had fans, to prevent humidity buildup, but was relatively open. While a person couldn't peer over, like they could in an open loft, the height increased air flow without lowering the temperature too much. Maybe an architect ...

The rope wasn't frayed, though. Not that it should have been. The point of climbing ropes was they wouldn't fray when rubbing against rock. The support beam, metal though it was, should not have been too much. "One rope to hoist her up. Something to tie her hands. The bruising was light... Maybe he didn't, since even holding the rope and clawing at it, with her slippery footing, she wouldn't last long."

But then another thought occurred. "There were no fibers under her fingers. Not that I'd expect any with that rope. But there also were no bruises or tears. Nor on her palms. Either she didn't grab or her hands were tied. Neither of which matters here, Doctor Stupid, so move on."

Once Gail had caught her talking to herself like that. After laughing, the cop had admitted she called herself Detective Dumbass from time to time.

"How do you get the rope off the victim."

She paused.

"Well Jesus, you wait till she's dead, take it down, and off you go with her clothes. All you need is to be sure no one's watching for you."

* * *

Watching interrogations were sort of fun. "She is all over the place," said Traci, seriously.

"Nah, she's got it."

"Why are we letting the rookie do this?"

"She earned it." Lara had broken the motive end of the case, after all. Apparently, after Vivian told her about how easy it was to mess with the cameras, and after the rookie Gagnon had checked every single camera flash, backwards, and after Holly gave them the estimated height of the killer, and after Vivian proved a person could easily and inconspicuously walk through the building without being seen by the camera, they'd found their guy.

The ex-boyfriend.

The ex-boyfriend who had worked for the maintenance crew, who had access to the cameras, and who knew his ex liked to bang a guy in the lockers after good games.

Gail had remarked that Toronto had lost the game. John rolled his eyes.

After they'd brought in the bang of the night, finally finding him on camera from his walk of shame, they'd gotten a better timeline. Two hours after the game, after the news and interviews, Murdoch had picked the man up at an appointed location. She'd saw him during warmups, slipped him the place and time and a number, and he went for it.

Wouldn't anyone, he'd argued?

But then he explained the sex had been pretty brief and she kicked him out to shower.

John had asked, simply, if the booty call had seen anyone on his way out.

Just the maintenance man, fixing a door.

Billy Tash.

"So you're a Cougar fan," said Lara in the room, walking back and forth. "Vancouver Cougars."

Gail muttered. "That's such a fucking stupid team name."

"Hush," said John.

The boyfriend nodded, looking angry and nervous. "And yet… you dated the vice-captain of the Toronto Geese?"

"And that's a stupider name," said Gail. "Geese."

"There's a hockey team called the Ducks." John didn't tell her to hush that time.

"Stuuuuuupid."

In the room, the boyfriend was quiet. Lara shook her head. "Soccer fan. Groupie. Worked maintenance just to hang with the players. Kinda stalkerish."

The boy looked away. "Whatever."

"Whatever," repeated Lara. "Whatever. You run a website with panty shots, Billy."

"All consensual."

"You sure about that? Some of the players were surprised when we told them."

Billy went ashen. For a moment, Gail wondered if he'd pass out. "Got him on one," said John under his breath.

"Thinking of letting him float on that if he gives away his accomplice?"

"Thinking of letting him _think_ I'll let it float," replied her sergeant. "He should know a uni can't promise him fuck all."

Gail smirked and sipped her tea. Anyone who watched television ought to know that. Surprisingly few people did.

Inside the room, Billy did not. "I want a deal. About the ... A deal. I tell you who did the photos."

Lara was a cool customer. One of many reasons she was top pick for Fifteen, but also for the Ds. Traci saw herself in the young woman. Gail saw her brother at the same age.

"The photos. You think we can't check the EXIF data and track you idiots down?" Lara shook her head. "Besides. Soft core porn and illegally obtained images? That's a drop in the bucket."

Billy looked around. "I didn't ... "

"Didn't what, Billy? Kill her? Because your prints are on the door. On her locker."

"I'm the maintenance," spluttered Billy.

"Lockers don't have doors, Billy. They're cubbies. Why would your prints be on the hangers, hmm?" Lara shook her head.

"They... The rod. I had to replace it."

Lara looked momentarily impressed. "No work order."

"Well. They don't, y'know? It's normal. They, the girls, bitch."

"Women."

Billy blinked. "What?"

"Women. They're not girls, they're adult women. Professionals. In a sport that fought for equity and respect. These _women_ have been struggling for decades, Billy. _Decades_. Longer than we've been alive. And now, after more accolades and praise than any other _professional_ sports league in history, after twenty-five years of legal battles and protests, they get their due... And shits like you call them _girls_."

John winced. "Fuck I'm old."

Gail smacked his shoulder. "That's what you got out of that?" She was hella impressed by Lara in the moment. The kid was handling it well.

"Hey! You know I'm for it. Women's sports are cleaner."

Rolling her eyes, Gail put her mug down. "When you gonna go in there?"

"When he's about to cry or try to hit her."

Right then, Billy was beet red. He'd been arguing he could call them what he wanted. "What do you want from me!?"

"Just an answer," said Lara, her voice a bit louder but not angry.

"You — you haven't asked me a question, you bitch!"

"Why did you kill Barbara Murdoch?"

"So the stupid ass team folds!"

Beside Gail, John whistled. "God damn..." He rapped his knuckles on the window and Lara looked up. Even though she couldn't see him, she nodded and, without saying a word to Billy, went to the door. Another officer took a guard position inside and Lara all but scampered into the viewing room.

"So? Did I—" The rookie stopped and stared at Gail, eyes wide. "Uh. Ma'am."

Gail lifted her mug in approval. "You did good, Volk. Have fun, John-boy." And she left him to find out if their Billy boy was working on his own or if there was some idiotic clandestine group, dedicated to the eradication of women's sports.

Sadly, experience told Gail which one it was likely to be. She could picture it in her head. Taking out the teams would be a matter of convincing them to stop playing. Start with homophobia and making a stink about the trans players, how it's an unfair advantage. Once a few people left, drop the gay angle and move on to things like the pay gap. Obviously the women are paid less because they're worth less. When neither of those worked, scare them. If no one plays, the teams fold.

The joke was on the group, though, whomever they were.

Because the women were stronger than anyone had a right to be. It was a fatal flaw, a stupid assumption by men, probably straight white men, who had never faced the oppression and hatred women did every day. Find a women who'd never been harassed and everyone would be shocked. Gail certainly had been, because of her looks and her demeanor. Holly too, for being a fake geek girl. Elaine, Andy, Chloe, Traci, Noelle...

Even their kids. Sophie went into law because of it. Olivia got detained once because of it. Vivian put on a uniform because of it. Izzy Shaw was nearly killed because of it.

Men.

Ugh.

Gail shook her head and walked past the uniforms at their desks. Speaking of men, there was the non-offensive young man, Christian Fuller, talking to Vivian and the newest member of Fifteen. She'd not actually paid attention to him, and since Vivian hadn't brought him up, he was a non-entity to Gail just them. As she circled the desks, though, she caught the name on his shirt and felt her heart stop.

Gagnon.

Old Gail, the one who'd been Samantha Gagnon's TO, would have run. Avoided the hell out of the possible conversation. But this kid was young. Too young to have even really known Samantha, who'd moved to Toronto as a teen. He had to be a relative, though. The name was too rare.

Sucking up her fear, Gail walked up. "Introduce me to your rook, Fuller."

Everyone looked at Gail. Even Vivian. Her daughter, who had been more uncommunicative than normal, had a closed expression. Christian's was bright eyed. And Gagnon... He was confused.

"Patrick Gagnon, transfer from Val-d'Or. Not my rookie, ma'am, but..." Christian half-grinned. "Well. I'm supervising."

Gail had done that once, for Dov after he'd screwed up. "Constable Gagnon. I'm Inspector Peck, Organized Crime."

The newbie's eyes widened. He looked at Gail's face, searching for something. "Ma'am..." He looked back at Vivian and then Gail again. Then his eyes fell on the mug in her hands. A DAD mug. Her mug. And he looked up at her eyes and they both knew.

Vivian rubbed her forehead. "Yes, you call her ma'am, Gagnon."

That sounded like part of an ongoing conversation. "Settling in?"

"Yes, yes, ma'am." He paused. "Um. I think... I think we know someone in common, Inspector."

Both Christian and Vivian stared at the newbie.

"Samantha?" Gail rolled her mug between her hands. Patrick nodded a little. "Cousin?" Again a nod. "I did the math, rookie. Can't figure how you'd know her."

"Um. Letters. Visits. She wrote home a lot. About being a cop at Fifteen." He hesitated. "About her TO. And... Um. The last letter was about a case she said she couldn't talk about, but how her TO's wife was sick?"

The light dawned for Vivian, who snapped her head up to stare at Gail. "Oh."

Gail ignored her kid for a moment. "Three legacies, huh. Weird world." The trio looked at each other, curiously. "She was a good cop, Gagnon. Stupid, dumb, bad luck."

He nodded. "Did... Did your wife...?"

Huh. How odd that would have been, to grow up and not know. "Yes. She's fine. Still married. Have a kid." Gail jerked her chin at Vivian.

Patrick looked like he was about to shit himself. "Oh!"

"Listen, Patrick." Gail ran a hand through her hair. "Those two know this already, but you need to be the cop you are. Not your cousin, or anyone else. You have nothing to live up to or down from. You're you. So don't think you have to impress anyone. Let alone those two yahoos next to you. And your sarge? She knows too. So just be you."

He swallowed and nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Gail sighed. "Good." She gestured with her cup. "Serve. Protect. Don't screw it up."

And she left them to it.

Another rookie with ties back to her past. Another legacy.

With recruitment what it was, the majority of officers had some tie or another back to the past. People like Gail and Andy and Vivian, the children of officers, were more rare. People like Christian, though, who looked up to officers, and Jenny, who wanted to redeem them, they were increasingly common. The majority used to be idiots like Rich who, like Dov, had a power trip or fantasy. Even then, idealists like Chris...

Chris was dead. So was Samantha. So was Callaghan, whom Gail had mockingly called Homicide. So was Jenny's father.

Gail sighed and walked directly to her office. It was hard to know truths that, even now, couldn't be revealed. Like Samantha's death. The circumstances, the fact that the virus had been in the wild at all, was still to this day under lock and key. Stupid. Like the case of Nico Terzakis.

True, Gail hadn't realized Jenny was Nico's daughter, but neither did Vivian, nor apparently Jenny know what had really happened to her father.

After Gail learned about Jenny's heritage, she'd gone to Marlo for the truth. There had to be more than just simple skimming funds to it, otherwise Nico wouldn't be dead. Marlo's story had been harrowing. Nico took the fall for others. He'd sacrificed his name and his career to stop the actual crooked cops. Ones who had been blackmailed and coerced into letting killers go.

It had been the same case Steve had worked on that nearly framed Oliver. Damned Irish mob. While Steve was cavalier about discussing it, Gail couldn't afford to be. She had to protect who was left, after all. More men and women were still undercover, and Nico had protected them.

There was no one Gail cared about being protected by keeping Samantha's death a secret. A sick doctor. A murdered detective. A dead forensics assistant. A madman.

Gail kicked her office door closed and pulled up the case file. François L'engle. AKA Maxim English. A name she'd not thought of in a million years. He was still alive. Turned over to the Mounties, who brokered a deal with Interpol but kept him, so that he wouldn't get the death penalty. He was still locked up in a small cell in the middle of nowhere.

Would that have been Perik? Would he still be locked up, alone, in a small room? He'd murdered dozens of women, in Canada but also in Africa. People had talked about studying him, trying to understand why he'd done what he'd done. God knew they'd talked to her enough about it. But again, questions without answers. Possibly someone had an idea, but Gail would never likely be told.

She'd never really escape her past, realized Gail. She'd known that a long time ago, though. That her past was forever and ever that which made her future. Without the Peck upbringing, she'd never had volunteered for the risky job of an undercover escort. Without that, she'd never have realized maybe she did like Nick. And she'd never have been betrayed by him twice more after that. And she'd never have screwed up and taken the fall for that horrible day. And she'd never have lost Nick and cheated on him.

And without _all_ of that, without the abandonment of her boyfriends, the neglect of her parents, and the hopelessness of it all, she might not have been willing to look at Holly the way she did. Without the pain and the destruction, she wouldn't have questioned the way Holly made her feel about the woman. About herself. About everything.

Gail smiled and lifted her wrist, tapping an 'I love you' to Holly.

A few moments later, the sentiment was returned.

As painful as it all had been, Gail would not give it up. No, scars and all, it had made her Gail Peck. Detective Inspector. Wife. Mother.

Someone she liked when she looked at herself in the mirror.

* * *

"I don't want to be here," she told Jamie, sullenly, her hands shoved deep into her pockets.

"Oh come on, Peck." Jamie poked her arm. "You're being extra cranky and he's your BFF."

"No, Matty is my BFF."

Matty was also cheering like a goddamned loon. She could have kicked him. "Come on, show us some leg!"

Vivian rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Vivian," said Jamie, a little more gently. "I'll cheer for C."

That was only a point because the MMA cage match was firefighters vs cops. It was entirely unofficial and unsanctioned, to the point that Vivian had to swear not to tell her family. Not that they'd care. Gail would roll her eyes and Holly would ask if a doctor was on hand. Which yes, EMTs were there.

"You don't have to," said Vivian.

Jamie eyed her and tugged at her elbow until Vivian reluctantly pulled a hand out. With a smile, Jamie laced their fingers together. "You need to get out of the house for something that isn't work once in a while."

"I went to the gym." She'd been doing a lot of that. Mostly the climbing stuff that was all upper body. It was the hardest, and therefore the best at distracting her from actually thinking about anything.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "That's barely out."

Hunching her shoulders, Vivian shrugged.

Leaning into her, Jamie bumped her shoulder. "Come on. We can ditch and go out to dinner after on our own."

"Sure," said Vivian, not really feeling it.

Her antipathy was not unnoticed by her girlfriend. Jamie sighed. "How many fights before C's cage match?"

On Vivian's other side, Matty replied. "Three. How big a bad ass is this Higgins guy?"

Jamie winced. "Hig is ... Big Hig. I thought these were weight classed!"

Leaning back, Vivian let them talk around her, literally, while she watched a fighter get demolished. She'd never had the impetus to hit someone in her life besides Christian. Never like this. Never in a one-on-one battle. In a way, she could understand why someone might. If she had the opportunity to hit her cousin...maybe. No, probably not.

That was Elaine's influence for sure.

Elaine had sat her down, after apologizing for the fight over the announcement that Vivian wanted to be a cop, and had a frank discussion about everything. About how she couldn't let her emotions rule her, how she had to be smarter and empathic without letting it overwhelm. How she couldn't get angry.

Longer ago than that though. Her father had gotten angry. Often. He'd shouted and screamed and thrown things. Vivian still couldn't remember if he'd laid a hand on her. She was pretty sure he hadn't. It was still enough to know that angry men were dangerous men.

She didn't really feel that way now. Angry men were problematic, certainly. They were belligerent and troublesome. They could be entitled, attempting to take advantage of their size.

It had been a relief to Vivian when, at seventeen, she'd finally had a serious growth spurt, and matched her mothers in height. Soon after she eclipsed them. And from her tower, as Gail sometimes called it, she could look down and those aggressive men were less daunting.

There was a loud cheer in the room and Vivian tried to pay attention again. Someone had delivered an upset victory.

The fighting did not interest her. She hadn't asked Christian why he liked it, though Dov had made a passing remark that Chris had liked MMA. Maybe it was the way he had to connect with his dead father figure. Maybe it was his way to rage against the beast inside himself, the one that worried he'd be crazy like his mother or criminal like his father.

Yeah. That was why she and he got along so well. They both understood the fears of biology. Even though he didn't know all about her's, only that her father had killed her family. Vivian had asked her moms to tell him that much, if he asked them. Apparently at some point he had. They had a strange relationship. Should she tell him about her aunt?

Ugh. She hadn't even told Matty.

She should tell them. Could she? Always a question.

"Hey," said Jamie, breaking into her thoughts.

"Sorry. I was thinking."

"Yeah, I could tell." Jamie squeezed her hand. "Matty wanted to know about dinner?"

Dinner? The only dinner that jumped into Vivian's head was the one with Jamie's parents on Monday. A wonderful way to start the week, she felt, in that stupid sarcastic way. "Are we not going to see your folks?"

"Don't sound so relieved," said Jamie, a bit tetchy. "Tonight. After? With Christian? I know I suggested we bail, but..."

Oh right. "No, it's fine. Whatever you guys want."

Matty snorted. "You're so annoying right now, Viv. Honestly. Where'd all your opinions go?"

She shrugged. "You know what they say. Don't sweat the small stuff."

"Puuuuuuh-leaze." Matty was having none of it. "You are Gail Peck's daughter. Food is not now, nor has it _ever_ been 'small stuff' to you."

Vivian didn't reply. She couldn't think of what to say.

Her best friend and girlfriend looked at each other. "Do _you_ know why she's being all weird?" Matty jerked his chin at Vivian.

"I do," said Jamie, and she sighed. "Well since tall and sexy here is useless, Thai? Italian?"

"Depends on how many hits to the face Christian gets."

Tuning out the discussion of what spicy foods were worse if your mouth was bleeding, Vivian watched the second fighter. There was a lot of kicking in that fight. Not that Vivian really paid attention to it either. Eventually though it was Christian's fight, and it was a royal stinking mess.

It started with striking, both Higgins and Christian gauging the distance with a half outstretched arm. They swatted hands for a while, and then Higgins dove in with a waist tackle. Christian managed to get his hand in the way and steered his opponent to the side. But it was a mess. He looked awkward and clumsy.

Higgins was clearly more experienced. Longer arms and a fuckton more confidence, the fireman was aiming for a ground and pound, trying to throw C down at every opportunity. He was, simply, better. If it wasn't for Christian's insane luck, he would have lost. For every swing Christian made, Higgins connected with at least two jabs. In no time at all, Christian was bruised and bloody.

But it was luck that saved him. Christian ducked down for a lunge punch, nearly karate style, while Higgins dropped low to try and grab his waist. Instead, Christian's knee came up and connected with Higgins' chin. The fireman staggered back, stunned, and C followed his totally whiffed punch into an over-hook grab. Locking his arm around Higgins' neck, he hauled the bigger man down.

They hit the mat hard, Christian slinging his legs around and locking his ankles, bringing Higgins' arm back into a very forced arm bar.

Of course Christian was ecstatic when they came around to see him after the medical check. Higgins had his arm iced, while C held a small ice pack to his face and went on and on about his fight.

"I know I could've done better," said Christian, grinning. "But man, when I got that arm bar..."

"It was sloppy as hell." Vivian was actually surprised at her own tone, snippy and bitter, but it just popped out that way. Everyone stared at her. And the words in her head just rolled out on their own. "What? He could have rolled, bent his elbow, and popped right out. Jesus, C, he's solid muscle, and you'd lose your ass in a ground and pound."

Christian eyed her. "Oookay, cranky pants. You're supposed to be happy for me. I won."

"Like a loser."

"Dude, Jamie can you do anything with her? She's been super bitchy for weeks."

Jamie scowled at Vivian. "I'll try." As Christian walked off to change, Jamie sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Viv. Keeping everything bottled up until you snap is not going to help."

Intellectually, Vivian knew her girlfriend was right. And she wasn't even mad at Jamie in the slightest. But. Everything hung over her right now, and try as she might, Vivian just felt hurt and angry. She knew she was lashing out about stupid things and the more she tried not to, the worse it seemed to get.

"I don't walk to talk about this."

"I get that, Viv. I do. But snapping at Christian? Telling Matty to shut up yesterday? That's not you. And if you're going to be a brat, it's not fun to hang around you."

"Maybe I shouldn't come," Vivian said, looking at her feet.

"What?"

"To dinner.

"What? Tonight?"

"With your parents."

"Viv." Jamie sounded exasperated. "That isn't what I meant."

Vivian looked up. "No. No, what you meant was I'm not really pleasant to be around." When Jamie opened her mouth, Vivian went on. "And you're right. I'd probably tell your parents what I think of them."

The warm brown eyes grew cold. "Vivian, you really should stop."

"Before I say something I don't mean? Like I think your parents are in a codependent, kinda abusive relationship? And your dad's a control freak which irks the hell out of me, and your mom... I can't make heads or tails of what's wrong with her, but I've never met anyone that runs that hot and cold. And that's saying something since I grew up with Gail."

She looked at Jamie and felt multiple things at once. There was a part of Vivian that wanted to take back what she'd just said. That was the part that saw the hurt on her girlfriend's face. Then there was the other part, the one that was winning right then, that saw the anger and wanted to snap more, yell more, and tell Jamie exactly why she thought Angela was nice, but probably bipolar.

Somehow. Somehow she stopped herself. It felt like she was holding in raging fire with her bare hands. Every ounce of self control she had was at work, keeping her fucking mouth closed.

"You know," said Jamie very slowly. "It's not like I don't know what's going on, Vivian."

She was supposed to apologize. She didn't want to, which was a very odd feeling. Instead, Vivian looked away. "I'm going home."

"That's a good idea." Jaime's voice was cool. Not cold. Vivian wasn't really sure what the hell it meant though. "Call me when you can be reasonable."

They looked at each other for a brief moment, and then Vivian turned around to walk home.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is **not** a breakup. This is a fight. And yes, Vivian's being angry at a lot of things and lashing out at the people who care about her. Jamie's not dumping her, she's just literally saying Vivian is being unreasonable right now. Which she is.
> 
> I'm a little worried this storyline is not what people wanted to read. I do promise happy endings for all the little lesbians and bisexuals in this fic, but they have to get there first.


	27. 03.06 - All By Her Selfie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days in the life of Dr. Holly Stewart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Vivian is still fighting with Jamie, and Gail is stuck in Regina, Holly is left to her own devices. It can't be too bad, right? She used to live in that townhouse by herself.
> 
> This is entire chapter is told from Holly's perspective.

"How long is Mom gone for?"

"Two more days, at least." Holly watched her daughter's expression turn sour. "Oh go on, it's three nights. She'll be home by Friday at the latest."

"Yeah, alone in that huge house. Are you sure you don't want me to stay over?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "I'm not the insomniac, Vivian. You can come over for dinner once." She held up a single finger for emphasis.

The young officer frowned even more, but finally nodded. "Well. Okay. Tomorrow then?"

"Oh see, you don't even want to come over tonight," said Holly, teasingly.

Now Vivian rolled her eyes. "No, I just think you'll be desperate for company tomorrow."

"You _are_ aware I used to live by myself."

"Yeah, a million years ago!"

Holly slapped Vivian's arm. "Go away, kid. You're bothering me."

The half hearted smile on Vivian's face was troubling though. "Okay. Fine. Call me if you get bored. Or if the dark scares you." She tried so hard to be as casual and witty as Gail, but Vivian often missed the mark.

Right now, the pain of whatever the hell was going on with Jamie was messing with her daughter. Neither Holly nor Gail actually knew what was going on with all that. Vivian just shook her head and said they were fighting and it was their own fault. Gail's theory was that Vivian was being stupid, had lashed at Jamie about her aunt, and didn't want to admit that to her mothers. It was a good theory.

Holly watched Vivian as she went back down the hall. The officer had been at the lab to go over the evidence from a dog napping. The dog had bitten the perp, to be proven by the cast taken from the bite after Vivian had an exemplar from the dog. Currently the dog was playing in the lab. A fierce and terrifying beast who was happiest in a hoodie and being snuggled. According to the thief, the dog attacked. So far everyone felt the man had to have done something to deserve it. At least the stupid laws about how if a dog bit some one even once, it had to be put down, were no longer the case. Even Holly had gone to check on him and play with him, under the supervision of animal welfare. There were already arguments about adopting the dog if the owners had to give it up.

Sometimes she regretted not having a pet. True, having a job like she did made it difficult, but Andy and Sam had their dog for a while. In the end, Gail's antipathy towards pets had been the deciding factor. It wasn't for many years that she'd learned Gail and Steve had once had a kitten. Steve told her the tale, including the cat's untimely demise. It made sense, really. Much of Gail's life was built on her childhood fears.

Besides, having Gail was like having a cantankerous pet anyway.

Holly sighed. While she wasn't about to tell her daughter, she did miss having Gail around. Holly was accustomed to the blonde's presence in her life, the noises Gail made while stumbling through the kitchen to get breakfast before an early call. Arguing she was fine with coffee. Complaining about how she didn't need food.

Hopefully Gail was eating. She had a bad tendency to skip meals, which given Gail's metabolism was a terrible idea. Pulling out her phone, Holly texted some food emojis at Gail, but did not get a reply. That was expected. Gail was busy with digging through shipping manifests and cameras onsite, as well as interviewing people. Holly shook her head and pulled up her latest file on the Safary case. Gail was hunting down possible motives related to the train bomb from years ago. Her new lackey was Andrew Dodge, a superintendent who had left ETF just before that case.

Dodge was alright. Smart about bombs, he'd moved to white collar crime and Gail felt he was the best person to help her try to make sense of the motives. Why would someone blow up random companies. But that was Gail's bailiwick. Holly's was evidence. Science. Understanding the hows of crimes as opposed to the whys.

The evidence from the Safary cases was, in a word, peculiar. There was sand, straw, a little rubber, and then the normally expected detritus one might find at an explosion.

And pink stuff.

Clumpy, chemically broken, slightly stretchy pink stuff.

Holly scratched her nose. When she'd taken over the case, at the behest at the Chief of Police, the Mayor, _and_ the Mounties (thank you Marcel Savard), Holly had elected to start from scratch. Not that she doubted her employees and staff, but Holly had learned long ago that when a puzzle of this nature came to her lap, she started best from the beginning.

The first Safary case, verified, was a bridge being worked on by a construction company that had folded shortly thereafter. The second was a mass produced painting company, the sort that made the horrible art one saw at CostCo and other bulk stores. They too had closed. Then there was the circus, aka the train, illegally shipping animals. They'd not allowed animals in circuses for years. Decades.

Holly had the computer sort through lists of the evidence collected at most, if not all locations. Sand was an absolute. Straw and rubber second. And that damned pink crap. Why was that at so many? What was it?

She stared at the results from the . confusedly. Oh she knew what everything meant without having to check. There was plastic and biological (fish oil, she was pretty sure), a small amount of trace from straw and rubber, and that was it. How very odd. The straw and rubber, of course, made sense.

The earlier theory had been that the straw and sand and rubber was all from where Safary put together the bombs. Now, Holly wasn't so sure that was the case. It was possible to use them as filler. The straw and rubber would burn dark and smoky, which would be fairly useful as a distraction. It certainly had worked for the bomb at the stables.

With a frown, Holly checked the evidence from the horse bomb. As the most hastily put together bomb, it was not a shock that it was the least matching to the type that Safary used. It was missing the circuit boards that the bomber normally used, for example. Those boards were used for location detection for the most part, and it wasn't needed in this one.

Of course, it made Holly wonder about the speed with which the bomb was thrown together. Well. Someone like Vivian would have fun figuring that end out. Holly had never been a fan of bombs and explosions as much as her wife or daughter seemed to be. The controlled and focused sort that were rockets, those she liked. Blowing things up for enjoyment was odd. Fireworks were about the only time she and her Pecks agreed on the matter.

Holly grimaced. She was getting distracted by her own twisting thoughts on the complex case.

"Okay, Stewart. Pink stuff. It's in all the planted bombs. Which means these are not." She flagged a handful of known-Safary bombs as 'unplanned.' Unplanned, spur of the moment bombs. What a mind that woman had.

It was wrong, it was terribly wrong, but Holly was gleeful their bomber was a woman. She'd loved every case that had a female perpetrator. Or a gay one. Gail had laughed at her about it, but damn it all, they were usually the more interesting cases. And it was totally, completely, wrong.

That was one of the things that had drawn her to Gail early on. Gail was the kind of person Holly could be terrible with. She could be a bad person and it didn't change the fact that Gail liked her for being smart and entertaining. Holly could use her dark humor with her out loud voice, and Gail would laugh with her. A trait Gail shared with Lisa, truth be told.

Holly took off her glasses and found the point in the room where she could still see with proper focus without them. Sometimes it helped her to concentrate on the one spot, a copy of Andrew Wyeth's painting _Christina_ _'_ _s World_. Holly had once been told the girl was deaf, but it was Gail who told her that the inspiration, Anna Christina Olson, actually suffered from a muscular disorder. She couldn't walk. And yet, rather than use a wheelchair, Olson crawled and dragged herself about the farm. Wyeth had seen her from his window, apparently.

The artwork had been a present from Elaine on Holly's promotion to chief. Hanging it up on the wall, Elaine informed her that all proper chiefs of all stations and positions had art on their walls. It wasn't until years later that Holly realized it was an actual authenticated lithograph, and was probably worth at least a couple thousand dollars. Once in a while she thought about bringing it home, but common sense told her the picture was as safe here in her office as at her home.

Besides, it was calming to look at. The painting reminded Holly of hope. That there was a possibility of perseverance and success through suffering. When they'd taken a business trip to New York, Gail speaking at a convention the year before their daughter joined the academy, Vivian had insisted they go look at it for real.

The three of them had stood together, regarding the painting with interest. It was still so odd to look at famous art in person. Visually it was the same as the lithograph or a printing. Practically speaking, there was no difference, right? And yet it was totally, vastly, more impressive when seen with ones own eyes. The real deal was life changing. The scope was greater.

Looking at it now, Holly let her eyes linger on the pink dress. What was the fabric made of? Gingham? Did that come in other patterns? She'd only seen it in white checks, usually with some bright ass color. But ... Well it was the name of a fabric, so if stood reason that it could be any pattern.

How did gingham burn? Cotton burned in a specific way. Plastic melted. It was the reason she liked natural fibers for clothes. Anything that melted like that had no business on her skin. But when things melted, they were rarely entirely consumed. And that was the secret to bomb evidence. The leftover bits and bobs had to be reconstructed into something.

"Okay, so what melts like that."

Holly rubbed her forehead. Not natural fibers. Regenerated ones, fibers that were a mix of natural and man-made, tended to melt _and_ burn. Like Rayon. This material was charred and melted into a lump, so that meant it had to be a regen. Except it didn't match anything on file. They had a database of all fibers commonly used by cops, scientists, firefighters, civil servants, and the like. Uniforms. Hunting vests. Rent a cops. Sports uniforms.

She stopped listing things in her head. That was a fools errand and a rabbit hole she couldn't stay in if she expected to be productive. Throwing it all out, she rubbed her eyes to reset them and asked herself, aloud, a simple question.

"Okay, Holly, what's pink?"

Holly stared at Christina, the girl in the painting. What was pink? She knew this. It was a memory of something... Something she and Gail had done, a long time ago. Once. No. No, twice. Once before they'd become married and parents and turned into boring people. Once when Vivian was a teenager. Both times it had been under duress. Gail had hated it and complained she'd rather sit under a tree and drink cheap wine coolers. In response, Nick had teased her about not wearing camouflage.

Paintball!

"They're filled with fish oil. Nonflammable." No wait, Steve had shown Vivian how to make them catch fire using the weird lube that he called marmalade. And antifreeze... And Gail had yelled at him. A lot.

Holly picked up her phone. People were faster than Google. They understood half-baked ideas and weird memories. It was still impossible to ask the Internet 'what was that thing I looked at four years ago?'

"My favorite sister!" Steve answered on the first ring.

"Steve, how did you make the paintballs catch on fire?"

Her brother-in-law was silent for a moment. "Which ones? The impromptu ones or the flame thrower thing Gail flipped her shit about?"

"Both."

Steve laughed like Gail did. Or she laughed like he did... Or they both laughed like Elaine when you asked her an interesting question. "Okay. The flamethrower is done by filling a ball with potassium permanganate. When you shoot, antifreeze is injected and they react, making a ... Well. A burn. We— they use them for firefighting in the woods. I bet Viv's girlfriend could explain it better."

Holly winced. "That's a minefield best avoided right now."

"Aw hell, did she Peck up?"

While Vivian had, now was not the time to get into it. And not with Steve, who hadn't even met Jamie yet. And who gossiped. "Steve, I actually have a case."

"That would be a yes." Steve sighed. "Lemme know if Trace or I can help. Okay?"

She sighed as well. "Okay."

"Okay. Good. So. You get how those were combustion though. They're not the on fire ones."

Thank god, Steve was still a Peck. Retired or not, he'd always drift back to topic. "You had flaming balls though, that time at the park."

Like a damn child, Steve giggled. "That was using a propane powered gun and an igniter for the fake muzzle flash."

Holly swallowed and realized she should have asked about that back in the day. Steve had a propane powered paintball gun? No wonder Gail had gone apoplectic on his ass. "When I invent time travel, Steven, I'm going back to beat the living shit out of you for showing my daughter that."

"She was seventeen, Holly."

" _Daughter_! I will get Traci to kick your ass now, you dickhead!"

"Jesus, I didn't let her use it!"

Closing her eyes, Holly counted to ten. There was no sense in being pissed at him for that. "The balls are filled with fish oil, Steven. How do they stay on fire?"

"Oh. It's the lube. You grease the guns so the balls come out smooth. Use the right stuff, it coats the balls right and lights 'em up. Of course, it burns off the paint, so you can't use 'em in a game."

Holly sighed. "Okay. Thank you."

"Sure," said Steve slowly. "Hey. Holly?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry."

It was a simple word. Something Steve nor Gail had ever really been good at saying when she'd first met them. But now... Now after two decades with wives, they were smarter and wiser and kinder and human. De-Peck'd as Chloe put it. Or at least somewhat tamed Pecks.

"It's fine. She was interested in blowing shit up before then," said Holly, half-heartedly.

"Was?"

"Fine, is."

Her brother-in-law chuckled. "She really got into ETF?"

"She did. Can't get assigned yet because the budget's cocked up."

"That's a Gail quote."

Holly smiled. "Doesn't make it not true."

"Wish I could help." Steve sounded sincere.

Holly felt the same way, but what could she do? Her lab's budget was painful enough, and they didn't even pay for vests or guns. Plus the police were paying for armament and new weapons and a whole raft of things that had ended with Andy and Dov at her house, going over accounting with Gail's cousin who owned the other Peck cottage on the lake.

"Care to make a large donation?" Holly tried to sound as flippant as possible.

Now her brother-in-law laughed. "My thrilling explanation of lighting up paintballs not enough?" When Holly laughed Steve went on. "Anything else I can help you with? Want to come over for dinner? I make a mean lamb stew."

"No thank you. I'm enjoying a quiet house for a few days, actually."

"I can only imagine. Alright, then I'm back to work. Call me, or Trace, if you need anything, sis."

Holly rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Stupid. Go be lazy and corporate."

Steve made a kissing sound, just like he did to Gail, and Holly hung up on him. She did love how he treated her like a sister. Sometimes she just wished he was less of an asshole to his sister. And by extension, her.

Both siblings carried their scars from their upbringing. Steve's anger issues had been far worse than Gail's, frankly. Her's was born of a rush of emotions she'd not been prepared to deal with. And where most people would have cried or broken down, Gail had shut down, lashed out, and burned herself. Metaphorically. Watching their daughter do much the same thing was rather depressing.

Burning. Flaming.

"Flaming paintballs. Fire starting." Holly tapped her lips with her pen. "Horses. Sand. Straw. Plastic... Well." She sighed. A theory was a theory.

Holly almost put in the order for a flat of empty paintballs with pink shells when she remembered the police used paintballs. With a grin, she picked up the phone and rang Dov.

"Sarge— Inspector Epstein."

"Hello, Dov."

"Holly— Dr. Stewart... Holly. Ugh. Can I start over?"

"I don't know," said Holly with a laugh. "It's been a few months, Dov. Not used to it still?"

"It's weird. How did Gail get used to it?"

Holly smiled. "It was her God given destiny to outrank you."

"God. True. Staff Inspector Peck." He laughed. "It'll be weird when I make it to Superintendent."

"She'll still outrank you."

Dov snorted. "Morally if not technically. So true. What can a do ya for?"

"Does the Force have incendiary or contact combustion paintballs?"

"I don't know why I get surprised by the offbeat questions from you or Gail." He sighed. "Patrol doesn't. No. We lean to more non-lethal alternatives these days. ETF might? I know I've seen the requisition orders."

"Can you check or should I call Sue?"

"I can look into it for you... What case?"

"Safary."

"Oh hell, you just jumped my queue. You may want to use your Peck powers, though." When Holly made an inquisitive noise, Dov explained. "Captain Peck. Sounds like the kind of thing her lot might be into."

"Firefighters start fires? Well... Okay, that's a fair point." Firefighters tended to do controlled burns, which Holly supposed they could do with flaming paintballs. That was an interesting idea.

"Just saying." Dov sighed. "We have some empty paintball shells. If you want to fill some up and make your own."

"Got any pink ones?"

Dov was quiet for a moment. "No. No we do not. Pink? Seriously?"

"There's some odd evidence." She scratched her ear. "I'm worrying a bone. Probably totally wrong, but it doesn't fix anything."

"Need a sounding board?"

Holly hesitated. She knew Dov was cleared on the case. She knew also that Chloe and Traci had, last year, dug into the case only to have it handed to Swarek, who turned around and muffed it up. It was a level of political fuckery that made Gail swear she'd never get promoted if it meant having to deal with personnel issues like that. And frankly Holly wasn't sure why Chloe and Traci rolled off the case.

"No," said Holly at length. Not before she could talk to Gail at least. "I'm testing theories. You know, the fun part of science."

Her friend laughed. "Alright. How about I get a box of blanks sent to you?"

"Not unless they're pink, or incendiary. Otherwise I'll just order a box and some potassium permanganate."

"Of course you know how to make them... Why did I ask?"

"No idea." Holly grinned. "Thank you."

"Any time. I'll let you know what I get."

They hung up and Holly hesitated. She was going to need to order the parts anyway, but best to make sure she had the right set. The schematics for a flaming paintball gun were not super complicated and, after some research, Holly had a good idea how to make the weapon and where it was used. Wildfires were often back burnt to prevent the fires from getting out of hand. And a gun that shot contact combustible pellets would be safer than, say, a flaming arrow.

Holly momentarily amused herself with the mental image of Shay shooting arrows. The woman had orange-red hair that she kept long and braided. It would be like Merida from that move, _Brave_. Well. Not that zaftig. Shay, like Gail, had a disgustingly efficient metabolism.

Which reminded her. Holly texted Gail for the second time that morning, reminding her to eat.

This time she got a reply.

_Jesus you are such a nag, lunchbox._

_And yet._

_For duck_ _'_ _s sake, I ate! I had granola for breakfast and a pulled pork sandwich for lunch._

_Salad?_

Gail's first reply was a middle finger emoji. Before Holly could reply, she sent a follow up.

_FUCK you, yes salad. Did you eat?_

_Turkey wrap with quinoa made of the leftovers from this dinner a hot chick made me._

_Tell me more about this hot chick._

_She_ _'_ _s about my height, looks like a 1950s model in a dress. Has these amazing eyebrows. Meow._

_Eyebrows? Seriously?_

_Also ass._

_Bite me._

Holly laughed. But Gail sent her a selfie of herself arching one eyebrow.

_How_ _'_ _s the case, grumpy cat?_

_Sucks. I_ _'_ _ll call you tonight. Phone sex?_

While Holly blushed, she replied demurely.

_I just want to hear your voice, honey._

_And it_ _'_ _s Stewart for the win today, folks. Love you, nerd._

_Ditto._

Conversations with Gail were always amusing when she was in a mood. And Holly couldn't blame her. Gail hated airplanes and travel, and here she was on her own in Regina. Thus far, Gail had little nice to say about Regina. Holly had never been, but given that she couldn't think of a single thing it was famous for (besides rhyming with vagina), she accepted Gail's annoyance as fact rather than petulance.

Holly tossed her phone down and forced her mind back to the case at hand. Talking things out with Dov or any of the cops or lab techs she worked with regularly, was one thing. Talking things out with Shay was an invitation to being Pecked to death. Neither Gail nor Steve would. Anymore. Shay was still competing with Gail at some odd Peck type contest.

The cousins competed over professional success, romantic success, family success, cars, accolades, minions, and everything else. Shay was a decent shot, Gail was better. Gail _could_ play softball, Shay was better. They'd ridden horses together, in the same competitions, for years. They were both polyglots. And queer. Shay was, however, braver. At least according to Gail. She was more self aware and brave enough to both be out _and_ a firefighter.

No. Calling Shay would just start them off again. While it was all in good fun, it was irritating to live through. Instead of calling Shay, she typed up her theory and sent an email, asking if they hand the makings of that sort of thing. That made it an official request, which was unlikely to start Peck Wars. Besides, even though Shay was a captain, and basically the same age as Gail, the firefighter still kept odd hours and ran into buildings on fire. Unlike Dov or most of the people Holly worked with, Shay's schedule was a mystery.

Well. Vivian probably could make sense of it. If Vivian's head was out of her ass and she was talking to her girlfriend. This really would be a great mommy/daughter case for them. Crime and science.

The concept of working with her family had been entirely foreign to Holly. Her family went into disparate subjects. They never worked together, not even her parents. The closest was her parents when Lily introduced Brian to some people for his research. And then Holly met Gail, and fell into a new circle of friends and family. Suddenly her world included people who would ask her, as a friend, for help with cases.

Over the decades, it was a logical extension to do favors to friends. Not anything illegal or even questionable of course (including Andy's DNA test, which was done above board if quietly), but still, the line between work and home blurred. The world was different when friends and family were work and home.

Logically too, Vivian would be the perfect rookie for the grunt work. And Jamie would have been a just nifty rookie firefighter to tap and help push her along in her career.

Elaine would probably meddle anyway and call Jamie.

Holly just sighed and shook her head. There was nothing she could do about it today, and nothing Vivian would listen too. And crossing work and personal life was still weird, even though she did it, so there.

Bending her mind back to work, Holly lost herself in the intricacies of another case, one unrelated to any Pecks or family, until lunchtime, when she finally heard back from Shay.

The reply from her cousin by marriage was interesting. They didn't use those devices, but they knew all about them. Firefighters who worked on wildfires, as Holly had expected, used them. So no one in the city did. Interesting. Thankfully Shay had the contact information for the wildfire crews, as well as a name Holly knew.

Alexander Daughtry was the fire chief in a tiny town about two hours outside of Toronto, along a lake where Holly owned a damned cottage.

She laughed at that one.

But his was the name she called. She was unsurprised when he answered the firehouse number.

"Firehouse, this is Daughtry."

"Hello, Chief. This is Dr. Holly Stewart. We met a few years ago?"

The man laughed. "Oh hell, Doc. You're the one who married that ornery Peck. Sure, I remember you." He paused. "Don't remember the number... You calling from the city?"

"I am. And everything's fine up at the cottage."

"Sure is, sure is. Jones and I checked it out yesterday. Y'all are coming up next week?"

Holly frowned. Jones was the sheriff. "Did Gail ask you to do that?"

"She did. She did. Always does when you folks are coming up. Thought you knew ... May've put my mouth in it..."

"Oh, I know she does that." And she did know. Gail told her she always called the sheriff to check their place out, and to warn him about the cleaning service. Which was silly, since the cleaning company was owned by the sheriff's daughter. Still, Holly was a bit surprised Gail had remembered. "She's working on a big case."

Daughtry laughed. "You callin' me for her?"

"No!" And Holly laughed too. "I'm calling you officially on behalf of the Toronto Forensics Lab."

That brought a pause. "You got a body we need identify?" Daughtry was grim.

"Oh, my god, no. Alex, I need your expertise."

A different pause lingered. "Mine?"

"Yep."

"If you don't mind me asking... When you say Dr. Stewart and Toronto Forensics, you mean all officially science-wise?"

Holly grinned and bit back a laugh. "I'm the chief medical examiner for Ontario, Alex. Didn't Jones tell you?"

Once, and thus far only once, Holly had been tasked to act in an official capacity up at the lake. Jones and his deputy had shown up, hats in hand, to ask Dr. Stewart to possibly examine a body that might be a homicide. Gail had been somewhat grumpy she wasn't invited, and college graduate (soon to be academy student) Vivian had laughed. Vivian had also totally missed the deputy, Kate Jones (niece, not daughter), flirting with her, which Gail only mentioned days later on the drive home.

The case had not been a homicide, thankfully. Holly flagged it as death by misadventure. AKA 'death by dumbass' as Gail called it. Somehow the idiot had managed to run over _himself_ with a jet ski. It involved enough beer and tequilas to raise his blood alcohol level to something quite alarming.

"Oh, right. I knew that. Sorry, my forte is fire."

"And fire is why I called. Do you guys use remote fire starters to back burn?"

"What? Like flaming bullets? Well not bullets. We fill these pods with potassium permanganate."

Holly fist pumped. She was rather glad no one could see her. "Paint balls? And you inject them with glycol?"

"If that's the fancy for antifreeze, then yeah." Daughtry paused. "You got a firebug?"

"No. I think I have someone using them in a bomb."

"Huh." The man sounded impressed. "This shit's why I stay my ass up here."

Smiling, Holly pointed out something. "Actually, the majority of serial killers tend to be recluses who live off the grid in semi-remote locations."

There was a slight pause. "Y'all know your place is off the grid."

"I have a nice cover going on, don't I?" Holly teased and was pleased that Daughtry laughed. "Would you be willing to send me the specs on how you make your little pods and inject them?"

"Sure thing, Doc. I can email you that right 'way." They exchanged contact information, checking to make sure they understood all the letters clearly, and Alexander sighed. "I wish I could be more helpful. Like tell you we had a pissed off fella who gave me a bad feeling."

"Woman."

"What?"

"Our bomber. We believe her to be a woman, approximately five foot four. Fond of horses."

Daughtry was quiet for a moment. "With fire knowledge? Shit. We haven't had a female firefighter since old Bill Peck, your wife's father, was here to tell his cousin off. Emily Ogden. I guess she'd be 'round forty now."

Oh dear. "She died?" Also what on earth would Bill be telling off his cousin. Holly knew the one Peck who lived up by the cottage, a retired police officer who stopped a moose hoof with his face.

"Oh, no, no. Moved to the coast. She's a librarian now. Sends us books now and then. Want her details?"

Holly hesitated. Forty was still within the range of Vivian's guesstimate. "She short?"

"Nah, taller than your little girl."

"She's practically six feet now."

Alexander paused. "Shit, how'd you get a tall one? Weren't she tiny as a kid?"

"She ate her vegetables," quipped Holly. "I'll write her name down, though. Emily Ogden."

"All righty. Anything else I can do for you, Doc, let me know. And while you're up here next week, come on by our tent at the barbecue festival."

Holly's mouth watered. "I swear, those ribs are the best birthday present."

"We aim to please."

Saying their farewells, Holly hung up and read the email. The ingredients were simple, but she'd have to order them. Holly made up a list of what she needed and then hesitated. Faster than Amazon was humans. She pinged Ananda and asked for a minion to gather the items.

Sadly even with someone driving around town, Holly didn't get everything until late in the afternoon. Six. She could _stay_ and work through the night, but it was bad form for a non-critical case. Especially since she'd yelled at Wayne the year before. With reluctance, Holly loaded her tablet with the documents for building her pellet gun fire starter and went home.

Rather quickly she realized that Vivian had been right. The first night home alone had been fine. Restful even to be in a bed without her wife, who was not known for sleeping well or quietly. For once, no tossing and turning and shifting filled her night. She could make her dinner and wander through the house eating out of a bowl instead of at a table. She played her music with blatant disregard for volume or type.

But the second night was lonely. She walked into her house and called out to Gail to tell her about the science. Habit. There was no Gail, no sounds of cooking or working or watching TV or any of the myriad things Gail loved to do. She sighed and opened the fridge. Damn it, Holly had eaten the leftovers and neglected to take out meat to thaw.

Didn't Gail have a trick? Run hot water in a bowl and soak the meat... It usually only took an hour or so. She popped open the freezer to get something protein-ish and found a surprise. The meat wasn't there. That wasn't too odd, Gail often kept it in the garage freezer. But what _was_ in there were boxes labeled in Gail's 'inventory' hand. Boxes of prepped food.

Her wife had left her multiple meals, enough for two for the week, all sorted, labeled, and organized. There was even a note 'Don't eat this with the chicken' on one of them. When had she even had the time to do that? Holly felt her heart fill, realizing how much time her busy wife put in, just to make sure Holly was cared for.

"Gail Peck, you are insane." Holly laughed and took the top box out. Chicken and potatoes with peas. She was on her own for a salad, but that was normal. Freezing salads was stupid.

The main dish went in the oven per Gail's directions, which included a snarky comment about setting a timer. The salad was quickly made and Holly texted Gail to thank her and remind her to eat, sending a selfie of her and her dinner.

Gail did not reply for almost two hours. When she did, it was a photo of pasta with what looked like arugula and some meat.

Holly smiled.

_Looks nice_

_Sent it back four times._

_Tomatoes?_

Gail replied with an angry face. Holly sent a potato emoji back.

_I_ _'_ _m out with a Mountie._

_Cute?_

_Male._

Holly laughed and replied using an eye roll emoji and wedding rings.

Of course Gail used the middle finger.

_Call me after dinner?_

Thumbs up came back and Holly put her phone to charge on her nightstand. Gail was two hours behind her, because Saskatchewan was idiotic and didn't like daylight saving time. She sighed and showered and curled up in the bed to read over the schematics.

The idea was simple. The glycol and potassium permanganate would slowly create a chemical reaction. Delayed combustion. The gun had a sprayer that would inject glycol as it was fired (that was the tricky part). According to online videos, though, it was not going to burn the way Holly wanted. Well. If it melted enough, and properly, it would at least be a starting point.

Another hour whizzed by and finally Gail called.

"Hey, go to bed," said Gail by way of greeting.

Holly laughed. "I'm in bed."

"Reading about something, no doubt."

"Pink stuff. It's been nagging me all day."

"Pink stuff?" Gail sounded interested. "What pink stuff?"

"It's part of the evidence with the bombs."

"Oh that goop was trackable?"

"Kind of. I have a working theory that the explosions were so flashy because of design."

"Made to be sound and fury, injuring nothing?" Gail made a noise. "What's the stuff made of?"

"Plastic, more or less."

Gail listened as Holly detailed her plan and theory and agreed that kidnapping Vivian might be a good idea. "Tell me you've made some headway with her?"

"Some. She's coming for dinner tomorrow. I'll try to pick her brain. This is usually your forte though."

"Relationship talk? Uh, I'm fuck up central there."

"Getting our girl out of a tree. She's more like you." Holly turned off her tablet and snuggled in the bed.

"Holly." Gail sounded guilty.

"What? You are. If you two had normal, caring, kind parents as children, you'd be more like me. But you didn't and you don't trust people for good reasons."

Gail was quiet for a moment. "I trust you. _We_ trust you."

Smiling, Holly took off her glasses. "It's not about trusting me, honey. It's you guys trusting yourselves."

Her wife snorted. "Why do you have to be so smart?"

"I love you too."

"I still think you'll be better to talk to about this. You're a safe place."

"So are you."

Gail sighed. "That's the sweetest thing you've said to me in weeks."

Holly laughed. "Okay, Slytherin. I love you and it's bed time for doctors who have to try to make pink things explode tomorrow."

"Ask Sue for a warm body."

"You are aware that costs me money, right?"

And Gail made a noise of agreement. "Yes, and we need it. Our budget is so screwed up, it's not funny," she complained.

"Robbing Peter to pay Paul." Holly laughed.

"I'm _recommending_ Paul slip Peter a couple thou, that's all." But Gail laughed, indicating her lack of seriousness. "I love you. Sleep well. Dream up kick ass science."

"Love you too. Try to get some sleep, Gail."

"Oh god, I'm tired. I hope I drop off."

They swapped endearments again and hung up. Sometimes Holly felt like a teenaged girl, not wanting to hang up with her beau. Not that she'd had anyone like that as a teen. True, she'd sorted out she wasn't into boys at an early enough age, but in the 90s and early 2000s, it had been difficult to find a girl and have any sort of a relationship. They were always clandestine.

With good reason, too. People did not like the gay. It bewildered Holly even into her adulthood. Why would anyone hate enough to kill. When she'd mentioned that to Gail, her then girlfriend had just shrugged and said it was fear.

They sure made Holly afraid, growing up.

They made her doubly afraid when her own daughter inched out of her shell to admit she had a crush on her best friend, Olivia. Not that Vivian being gay (or bi or pan) had been a shock. Oh no, they'd seen her blush around Sue and Frankie enough to know that the girl leaned towards queer.

That was how she identified, too. Queer. She'd often say gay or lesbian, but she preferred queer and used it around friends and family. Recently, Holly heard it said at Fifteen. Gail was mentioned as the lesbian inspector and Vivian the queer Peck. Harboring the private suspicion that Vivian liked the word because it also implied weird, Holly was happy now to call her whatever she wanted.

But in that moment when the shy, nervous seventeen year old had mumbled about having an inappropriate crush on her BFF, Holly suddenly understood her mother. Lily's reaction, which had been so painful and gut wrenching to fifteen year old Holly made perfect sense. It was, as Elaine so wisely stated, guilt and fear.

Lily had been absorbed with the fear of what the world out there would do to her baby girl. Lily saw the gangly youth she'd taught to ride a bike and drive a car, and she saw a world that hated her and would try to kill her if given half a chance. Or worse.

And so did Holly. She saw her fragile daughter as the subject of the pain Holly had endured, growing up gay. It was something Gail didn't understand. Couldn't understand. Gail's coming out had been remarkably, inexplicably, painless. She simply decided that she was a lesbian (her identification of choice at the time) and off she went. True, she'd admit to anyone but Elaine she was probably more bisexual than gay, but damn it all, she was sure as hell Holly-sexual.

Holly did love that part.

She didn't love knowing how shitty the world was to teenagers who were gay.

She didn't love that her daughter had already faced raging, bullying, homophobes.

She didn't love the world that wouldn't always love the girl she'd raised.

She loved her daughter, though, and she would be there for her, no matter what. Even when Vivian was being an absolute Peck and screwing up things with her girlfriend. There was nothing she could do to protect her daughter from herself, either.

Well. That was parenthood. Constant fear and guilt. Putting her phone to charge, Holly switched the light off and went to sleep.

And slept for shit.

By five, she gave up, went for a run, and was at the office before seven. Arming herself with coffee and a plan, she started by formally requesting 'someone' for assistance, who was familiar with the Safary case and unlikely to be grumpy over repeated experiments. Then she asked Ananda to loan her the errand boy from the day prior. A reward for his efforts was to assist the chief medical examiner perform her trial and error fire play.

The reward was, as she had expected, well received. He even was thrilled to help with the setup in the fire safe section of the building.

When nine AM rolled around, Holly had everything ready and a vaguely grumpy rookie named Peck helping with the final setup.

"Aren't you a little excited?" The excitable Aaron Haversham put the last ball into place.

Vivian shot Holly a look of suffering. "I've had a long week."

"It's Wednesday..."

"I know." Vivian ran a hand through her hair and stepped back. "Okay, ready to fire, Dr. Stewart." There wasn't even the normal twinkle in her eye when Vivian called her mother by her title. Oh dear.

Time to be in doctor mode. Holly checked everything and nodded. "Alright. So we are looking first to see if we can make paintballs that catch on fire when they hit the ground."

Her daughter made a noise. "There should be a delay," said Vivian. "Maybe five seconds. And the fire will only work if we hit the kindling."

"Which is why you, Constable, are shooting, and not me."

While Haversham looked impressed, Vivian wore the decidedly nonplussed expression Holly had grown to expect from a Peck when tasked with something they excelled at. Vivian had gone shooting with Gail nearly every week for half her life now. Even when the batting cages had waned, even if they had to be skipped, shooting was a Peck constant.

Fondly, Holly remembered Vivian begging to go when she'd had a fever. Gail had flat out refused. There was no trace of the begging child now. Today, Vivian was calm and collected and expectant. She knew what she had to do, she knew how to do it, and she was prepared.

The cop put on her protective glasses and took position behind the little gun. "I'm ready," said Vivian, settling in.

"At your own time then, please." Holly smiled.

Haversham eyed Vivian. "Is she okay?" His voice was a hushed whisper.

"She's fine," said Holly.

The only time Holly ever saw her wife or daughter shoot was on the range for Gail's birthday. The other 364 (or 365) days of the year, she blissfully was ignorant of their hobby. Of course she knew when they went to practice, but that was different. And the birthday shoot was different.

Here, Vivian wasn't smiling or laughing or even being super serious. She was calm. Dare say she was relaxed. And she launched three soft pops in a row, without even a fuss. Vivian straightened and tilted her head, waiting.

Just as Holly started to wonder if it had worked, there was a whooshing noise and the kindling burst into flames.

Holly hooted.

She didn't care that she was almost sixty. Science was fucking awesome and she knew it.

Four hours later, they had only determined that too much fire melted the plastic shells entirely. They'd lost Vivian back to patrol and Haversham's interest was waning. Holly scowled at the various melted plastics. She'd managed to clear her schedule for the day to do this, but as the chief medical examiner, it was hard for her to give up more than an entire day for work like this.

That was the downside of her job. She didn't get as much experiment time as she wanted. She barely got to do autopsies anymore. In fact, most of her work was people and paperwork.

"Is it always this frustrating?" Haversham took a sample of the last test.

"Oh, well. Science." She shrugged. "Experiments and theories are always a little frustrating."

"What if it's the wrong ball pods, and that's why it's melting?"

"They're all made out of the same material, more or less," said Holly, thoughtfully. "Let's try some indirect heat, see if we can replicate the melt."

They did not. Which meant as the day ended, Holly grabbed a senior tech, caught them up on her work, and handed it and Haversham off. So annoying. And her day wasn't over. Holly had to spend another few hours making sure the paperwork for the day was done, and she wasn't too far behind. It wasn't until her watch pinged that she even remembered Vivian was coming by for dinner.

Holly got home after her daughter. The taller woman was in the kitchen, quietly chopping ingredients. "Sorry."

"I figured you were caught up in science," said Vivian smiling tiredly. "Did you guys sort out the melt?"

"No!" Holly groaned and sat at the island. "Too much heat and it burns up. Indirect heat melts it, but it doesn't match properly. Too lumpy or too runny. It's infuriating and I won't get to play tomorrow."

Vivian laughed. "I'm pretty sure it's work, not play, Mom."

"I'm pretty sure it's both."

"Alright, maybe." Vivian tossed the vegetables onto the pan. "Make the salad, please?"

"Can do." Holly put her bag away and made a simple salad, snagging a beer to drink as she helped. "Do you ever eat tomatoes?"

"Since I moved out? No." She shrugged. "You know, Jamie asked..." Vivian trailed off and frowned.

As Vivian quietly cooked, Holly cleared her throat. "Are you two talking?"

Vivian sighed. "Does texting count?"

"Not if you're apologizing via text, no."

"I'm ... Why do you think I'm the one who's supposed to apologize?" Vivian looked a little indignant.

Holly smiled. "Because I married Gail?"

Her daughter scowled. "I'm not Mom. Or you."

"Thankfully. That would be weird." Holly sipped her beer. "I have learned, honey, that any time two people have an argument, it's best that they both apologize. Love is, as they say, a two way street."

"That was stupid and trite. Are you trying to do some dad platitude?" Vivian actually managed a Gail-level sneer. It was adorable.

"No." Holly smiled a little. "And I love you."

With a grunt, Vivian put the meat on a hot pan. "God knows why."

"You are your own, unique, person, Vivian Stewart Peck. And I, and your mother, are very fond of the grownup you've become."

Vivian sighed. "Even when I'm fighting with my girlfriend?"

"Did either of you cheat on the other?"

"What!? No!"

"Then yes, still fond. Not even disappointed. Just..." Holly trailed off. Gail was so much better at drawing this type of thing out of their daughter. "Honey... Are you okay?"

There was no answer for quite a while. Vivian was just quiet until she took the meat off the burner and put it in the oven. Then she shook her head. "No," she said softly. "I'm angry. A lot. And ... Everything hurts."

Ah. Holly walked up and rested a hand on Vivian's back. "Yeah, it does that sometimes. Sometimes, something gets us. It gets under our skin and cuts us open and... Everything's going to hurt a lot for a while, honey."

Vivian snuffled and scrubbed her face with her sleeve. She wasn't quite crying, but it was near. "Isn't that supposed to be about something I care about?"

"That's the problem. It is."

The girl opened her mouth and then closed it. The tears of frustration she was fighting off were leaking, turning into ones of anger. "I _don_ _'_ _t_ care!"

And Holly sighed. This really was Gail's wheelhouse. Gail understood the pain and agony of family. Holly came from the world where parents picked up the child when they fell. Her world was safe and protected and helped. The universe where people shoved children off the high dive, intentionally like the Pecks or unintentionally like the Greens, was still a foreign concept to her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you do. If you didn't, you're right. You wouldn't be so pissed off."

"I don't!" Vivian moved away and all but stomped to the refrigerator. "I don't give a shit about them or their bullshit drama or any of it! They're assholes and I hate them!" As she shouted, her voice cracked. "I hate them! I hate them for doing this! For leaving me, for letting me think I was alone, for .. For." Vivian hiccoughed. "For throwing it all back in my face." She drew a deep, shaky, breath. The burst of rage seemed to fade as fast as it had sprouted. "I hate them so much, Mom," she said, nearly whimpering. "Why do they keep hurting me? Why can't they go away and die and ... And never make me think about all this stupid maybes and might have beens." The tears started to flow. "Why, Mom?"

There wasn't much Holly could do there. She couldn't answer any of it. She didn't know why Vivian's aunt was the way she was. She didn't know why they had to come into the girl's life and upend things. But she could do one small thing.

Maybe Gail was right. Maybe this was her wheelhouse after all. What Vivian needed wasn't the comfort of a parent who'd been there and survived. She just needed her mom.

Holly reached over and closed the fridge, wrapping an arm around Vivian's shoulders. "Come here, honey," she said gently.

Just like when Vivian had been angry and lashing out as a child, Holly pulled her daughter into her arms and held her close. Like when she was seven, or ten, or sixteen, or twenty-four. Vivian was her daughter. Someone she'd never expected or planned on was one of the most important people to her heart.

This time, though, the crying wasn't wracking sobs of agony. This time it was tears of anger, pent up for her whole life maybe, leaking out the cracks. This time Vivian wasn't overwrought or anguished. This time she just hurt and she knew and didn't know why.

A pithy comment about how they were Schrödinger's tears was best kept private, decided Holly. At least for now. While it certainly was a constant state of pain, both caused by her living family and caused by the dead, it wasn't the time for a philosophical discussion. Instead she gently rubbed Vivian's shoulder and let her get it out.

Because Vivian was angry and frustrated and unable to fully process feelings she wasn't prepared for. The universe hadn't been kind to her, in that way. And all the love from her adopted parents aside, Vivian never understood how to properly deal with pain from family. Maybe they'd done her a disservice, being unconditional in their love. Maybe ... Maybe.

No. They'd done the right things. They'd raised her the best they could. They'd done the best and tried to give Vivian the tools to navigate a painful world. They never shielded her from the truths of hate and violence, but they'd never subjected her to it either.

It was just that now all those things Vivian had locked away at six were coming out to play hell on her heart.

Of course she was mad. And she couldn't lash out at the people who needed or deserved it. And she was trying so hard not to break in front of anyone.

Sometimes a person just needed to bite. To fight. To hit. To get it out and scream and cry and cut their hair off when feelings they weren't prepared for came home to roost. And sometimes they just needed their mom to hug them and promise it would all be okay for a little while, even if there really was no promise of any of that.

Holly sighed and held Vivian close.

There was no way Holly could fix anything, but at least she could be there in the now and remind the girl she was loved.

"She's not going to want to be with me like this, Mom," whispered Vivian.

"If she's the right one, she'll be able to see you in there, honey."

"I don't know how to say I'm sorry for this."

"Are you?"

Vivian sighed and let go to wipe her face again. "Yes? Maybe... I'm sorry I said it out loud. But... But now she knows I was thinking it."

Studying her daughter's face, Holly recalled the days back when Gail and she had said some rather hurtful things to each other. "Did you say it to make her hurt too?"

The expression on Vivian's face shifted to startled. "What? No!"

Well. That was an improvement. "Did you say it because you don't like her parents?"

Now she hesitated. "Kind of? I don't... I mean, her dad creeps me out, but that's just because I'm not used to men being ... Being parents I guess. Her mom though..."

"Her mom?" Holly was surprised.

"There's something weird about her mom." Vivian made a face and scrubbed her nose with her sleeve.

"That was descriptive."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "If I knew..." She paused. "I do know. She's ... She runs hot and cold. Not like Mom. Hell, not even when Mom used to get mad." Vivian waved one hand by her face, just like Gail did when working through a problem. "Like she has two sides or something."

Holly exhaled. "Ah. Weird. I would have expected it the other way..."

"Me too," said Vivian, glumly.

"You don't hate them, do you?" When Vivian shook her head, Holly nodded. "You're allowed to think those kinds of things, honey. That's normal."

"It's not nice. Jamie won't want to be with a jerk, Mom."

"That's when you call parlay, honey."

Vivian sighed. "Shoulda." She sighed again. "Why do I have to care?"

"That's our fault. We raised you to care about people."

With a snort, Vivian dabbed her eyes. "How the hell did Gail do that?"

Ah. Even Vivian couldn't see it sometimes. Holly shook her head. Why did everyone else miss this? "Your mother has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met, honey. She cares so much, about people who don't give a damn, people who hate her, that she'll take a bullet for then."

"Even Andy?"

"Yeah, even Andy." Holly smiled. "I'm sorry we made you care about people, even the ones you hate, but I'm not sorry either. You're an amazing person and you make us so very proud of the adult you are."

"Even though I'm Pecking my life up?"

"You're our kid," said Holly, sadly.

"Yaaaay." Vivian leaned against the counter. "It would be so much easier to hate them."

"I know." Holly cupped Vivian's face to look at her. "What do you want right now?"

"To be me from last month?"

"Besides that."

But Vivian shook her head. "Can we not... Can we not right now?"

Knowing there was no way to force it out of her just yet, Holly smiled and kissed her daughter's forehead. It required standing on her tip toes, but it made Vivian smile a little.

"Sure, honey. Let's eat."

An hour after Vivian left, despondent and still depressed, Gail called. "I hate people."

The absolute normalcy of the remark made Holly laugh. "I hate men."

"Lesbian." There was the sound of a door closing. "I also hate this hotel."

"Are you at an efficiency?"

"Yes." Gail grunted. "God I'm tired. Why is talking about shit and watching stupid, useless videos, so goddamn tiring?"

"Couldn't tell you." Holly smiled and turned off the lights downstairs. "Besides that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"

Gail laughed. "We're making headway. The evidence seems to be in our favor."

"You mean the Roses have some useful footage?"

"Quite a bit. It's shocking how much illegal crap they catch on film. I'm kinda pissed that they won't let anyone else look at the footage."

"Well," Holly spoke as she walked up to the bedroom. "You're trustworthy." Her wife laughed. "You won't turn them in for anything."

"You mean I'm accepting the deal." Gail groaned. "I'm as bad as my family."

"No you're not. You're also putting the fear of Peck in them, keeping them on blackmail retainer, right?"

Gail sighed. "See, you make me sound ... I don't know. Corrupt?"

"You're the least corrupt police officer I know, and that includes your daughter," said Holly firmly. "Didn't you tell me part of being a police officer was knowing what crimes to prosecute and what to let go?"

"Yeah." Gail did not sound convinced. "How come I'm less corrupt than Viv?"

"You're more experienced. She might fall to being a Peck."

"Ugh. That is the most horrible suggestion ever."

"Can I ask something else?"

"Please."

"How's Donnie?"

The silence hung for a moment. "Really? You're asking about my fratricidal ex?"

"He's up for parole soon, Gail." At twenty years, Donal was eligible after all.

Gail groaned and apparently figured out how Holly knew that. "Did you open my mail?" She was smart that way. "That's illegal."

Holly smiled. "Legally I'm allowed to, you dumb ass. We're married. And yes. The letter came this morning, asking if you'd consider speaking to him not being a danger to anyone else."

The noise was Gail rolling her eyes. "He's not going to kill anyone else, true. I just don't know, Holly. He's ... He's a killer."

"What if it was Steve?"

Gail groaned again. "Stop making me think! I just want to find Safary's motive and bury myself in your breasts."

She burst out laughing. "Gail! You're supposed to be figuring out how or what or why Safary was following the trains."

"Aw hell, I got that one. Check me out on this. He— _she_ blew the circus where the animals would be safest."

Holly blinked. "Say what?"

"All the bombs, I went and checked all the way back, have minimal loss of innocent human life. Ask the kid about it, she'll back me up. Four people died, and all were like the train in Toronto. Probably accidents, always circumstance driven."

"The fact that you want me to talk to our daughter about bombs is not heartening, Gail."

"She knows more about them than any of us. Besides, maybe it'll get her head out of her ass."

Holly grimaced. "There is that."

"How's she doing?"

"Eh. She said she's texting."

"Jesus, were our friends this annoyed with us when we broke up?"

"Lisa was." Holly stretched out on the couch. "I got a lot of grief about it, especially since this shitbird blonde didn't call me back. Though I was kinda cyber-stalking her."

Gail laughed in a self-deprecating way. "Yeah. Think our kid is the shitbird or the texting stalker?"

"I've heard it both ways," said Holly. "You going to pull her into your crime? Seeing as she is the rook with the most interest."

"Maybe. I want Volk, to be honest. She's got the mind of a D already. Zettle's positively orgasmic over getting her."

Getting her. So that was happening. "Oh wow, already?"

"Probationary, as of next week. Start her in homicide, see if that's her keen or if it's guns and gangs or whatever."

"We do the same thing with our newbies," said Holly. "If you don't take her, I think I'll nepotism her some more."

Gail laughed. "Only took you a couple decades."

"Hey, I am a Peck. And I need a cop who gets science that my lab won't want to kill after multiple experiments that are going to fail."

Her wife huffed. "Tell me it's a good one."

"Incendiary paintballs?"

"The what now?"

Grinning, Holly explained. "So that weird pink shit that was in the trace evidence _looks_ like it's homemade paintball pellets filled with some sort of fire-starter. Or accelerant. Sue loaned me Vivian to figure out how they work. So far it's been sketchy."

"Kinky." Gail's voice was muffled and Holly heard something thwap.

"Did you just take your shirt off?"

"I gotta shower, Holly," said Gail, pointedly.

"Yeah, but I can't think about science _and_ your boobs at the same time, Gail." Holly whinged.

And that brat laughed. "I was taking off my shoulder holster, moron. Still wearing a shirt."

"Nope, too late." With an exaggerated sigh, Holly went on. "Train of thought derailed. No survivors. Boobs."

"That is the sound of a woman begging me to distract her so her back brain can process deep and meaningful things. _And_ who will get up out of bed after sex and happily stay up all night working."

Holly made a face. "You know, maybe you know me a little too well, Peck."

"I know you intimately." Gail's quip made them both laugh. "Phone sex possibilities aside, can I help?"

With a huff, Holly sat up. "No. But how come Traci and Chloe got pulled off Safary?"

Gail made a surprised noise. "Traci moved to Guns & Gangs, which Safary is not, and Chloe picked up a drug cartel using hookers, so she's swamped with four UC ops." The cop paused. "Were you thinking I really did snipe all the good cases?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No!" Holly laughed. "I was wondering, that's all. Dov offered to be a sounding board yesterday and I didn't want to step in shit."

"Nah, you're all clear. Okay. I should eat dinner, huh?"

"If you don't want a migraine in the morning, yes."

Gail sighed loudly. "Well fine. Be reasonable. I'm going to find something and get some sleep. If I'm lucky, I'll be home day after tomorrow or after."

"Thursday or Friday." Holly sighed dramatically. "Eat. I'm going to bed, honey."

"Will do, sweetheart." Gail paused. "Hey. I've been watching a _lot_ of videos about the bombs, right? Funny thing about 'em. They spark up a lot more _after_ the fire's been going for a while."

Holly blinked. "Secondary explosions. That's interesting. Maybe..."

"Sleep on it," suggested Gail, sounding very amused. "Love you, Ms. Crazy Science Nerd."

"Dr. Crazy Science Nerd."

"Mrs. Doctor Crazy Science Nerd."

"I love you too, idiot."

The next day, Holly was excited and grumpy all in one. Excited because she had an idea about the secondary explosions. Grumpy because she wasn't going to get to play with it hands on. That was the price of being in charge, though. As much as Holly hated being out of the lab so much, the world of research and management had its own fun.

Well. Not so much management. No one really liked that. The prestige, though, she'd be a liar to day she didn't love it. People teased Gail about having the ego trip and power thrill of being in charge, but of how Holly loved it too.

To her surprise, most of her paperwork was done. Someone had taken all the mundane and dull personnel work and filed it. Someone else had sorted out assignments and orders. Everyone had their reports and reviews in... And Holly had a free day and that afternoon a lab, all to herself.

As she marveled at the work she didn't have to do, Holly saw the card on her desk.

_Boss. You work too hard. You should play hard. Happy (early) birthday from all of your lab nerds._

And it was signed by all her section heads.

She kind of loved them just then.

Poking her head out, Holly cleared her throat. "Ruth?"

Her secretary looked up with a sheepish smile. "Hey, boss. It wasn't my idea."

"I know. But thank you for helping them."

"Oh that's going to be a regular thing now, them doing their damn work on time." The woman gave a near-Gail level smirk of expectations. Holly could feel the change coming. Now that Ruth knew the staff could do it properly, she was going to be sure they would.

"And thank you for that." Holly laughed.

Ruth gave her a thumbs up. "Go make science, Holly. Make kick ass science so I can hang another magazine with your face on the cover."

Because that was what Ruth loved doing. Every magazine where her face or article graced the cover was framed and hung in the hallway. Ruth called it the intimidation factor. Scare the hell out of people into realizing how awesome the lab was.

Which it totally was.

What she needed now was a plan. Taking Gail's throw away idea of secondary explosions, she watched the security videos of the bombs. Her wife was right. There was a delay, often significant, between the initial explosion and the second flash. In fact, it was devilishly well timed. Right when people would think it was time to maybe get closer, it would flash and call more attention to the danger.

Except. There wasn't a whole lot of danger.

Even when Holly studied the bomb that had gone off at the antiques store, the one that had gone off with Vivian and Rich present, hadn't caused any serious damage. Except to the dummy. Which still didn't make a fucking bit of sense.

She scratched her head. The dummy. What was the point of the dummy? There was no trace from the bomber, which had left only the word Safary on a bit of the bracing wood. Which ... Oh.

"Holly Stewart, you're a fucking idiot."

She could have smacked her forehead. Instead, she pulled up shipping manifests from the files and looked for the weight. A shitty chair, one that ... Heh. A chair that Officer Peck said cost a few hundred. Finding the weight of the chair and the shipping crate, she added in that of the dummy and then the bomb.

Subtract the bomb. Give it plus or minus thirty.

And right there, one had a recipe for human smuggling.

Safary exposed a human smuggler?

Safary wanted people to _stop_ being hurt?

Did that mean the deaths at the train station were an accident all those years ago?

The concept made her head hurt.

Holly quickly typed up that report and sent it to Gail and Chloe. The former would need it for her work on tracking Safary's nebulous motives. The latter was the person whom Holly knew had spent the most amount of time working on the detestable crimes of human trafficking. Both replied to her memo before she broke for an early lunch, thanking her (though Gail's appreciation was descriptive, inappropriate for work, and via text).

Then she sent Haversham on one more errand. After that early lunch, she met Haversham and sat him down in the lab. "We are going to conduct experiments, young man. We are going to make a sound and flash and fury, signifying nothing."

"What?" He stared at her.

Holly sighed. "You just keep working on trying to find the heat required to melt our paint balls properly, Aaron."

He was not, alas, the most brilliant of new employees that had come to her lab. Not everyone could be. But Haversham did his work and he did it well, which was more than Holly could say for a lot of the fresh out of school idiots she got. Sadly, a lot of students thought working in the lab would be like TV. There would be sexy detectives and high risk situations and science would save the day.

All of those were true, Holly told them on their first day. It would just be spread across 10 or 20 years of work, if they were lucky. Most of their life would be spent trying to understand minutiae and details that came without context. They'd spend hours and days hunched over lab equipment, struggling to picture how evidence came together. And they'd see those police officers and detectives in danger. Regularly.

Invariably, someone asked if the rumor she was married to a detective was true, and someone else would ask if she was really the medical examiner they'd based a tv series on. To the first question, Holly would nod. Yes. She'd married a detective, who was currently heading up Organized Crime. And no, it was not all it was cracked it up to be. Oh and of course someone would ask about the TV show again, which she would neither confirm nor deny.

While Haversham melted paintballs, Holly mixed up a few, small, batches of pyrotechnics. It was the sort of fun, quirky work she'd loved to do as a teenager. Her parents had worried a little bit when she'd done it the first time, creating her own rocket to launch for the school science club. But as long as she did it under adult supervision, they were okay.

When Vivian had expressed an interest in rockets, Holly had been delighted to help her launch a few into the stratosphere. The balloon with a camera had been a thrill. Capturing the curve of the earth with nothing more than a few items from the store (and a computerized camera built by Leo) had even impressed Gail. But of course, they'd also made their own fireworks (technically legal), which had resulted in Holly's short haircut.

That was so long ago, she realized. Vivian wasn't even driving back then. The girl had still been short and relatively quiet when that had happened, but she'd laughed at Holly's appalled expression while Gail trimmed her hair by the lake. Holly fingered her hair. It had taken far too long for it to grow back out, and the shoulder-length do had not been her favorite. While Gail could rock any haircut known to exist, Holly felt most comfortable and happy with long, flowing locks.

Yes, fine, she was vain. Shut up, inner Gail.

"Um. Dr. Stewart? I think I have it." Haversham held his hand up.

"It's not a class," said Holly, amused. "Let's see." She got up and walked over to his bench. "Start me at the start, please."

The young man had laid out carefully burnt and melted exemplars of the pods. "You were right, the too much heat melted it. And I tried waiting to let it reform but..." He gestured at the first few tests. "It combines back into a solid. More or less."

Amused, Holly picked up the limp plastic circle. It bent like limp bacon. "Even if they didn't merge into one, the shape is distinctive. I concur."

"To get them clumpy takes a weird indirect heat, but then it didn't turn into the stringy thing when I pulled it apart." Haversham mimed pulling the plastic.

Holly mimicked the motion, pulling her sample apart. It bent more like silly putty. "Again, the fibroids shape was also distinctive." The sample just stretched and sagged. They wanted something that stretched, separated into fibers, and then snapped cleanly. A peculiar action, to be sure.

"And too much melt made it fail the burn test. But it actually charred!" He picked up a ball with char. "So obviously, right, ma'am? I needed melt with separation. The right heat to split the components."

"You've done your due diligence," said Holly, smiling. Of course, she picked up his tablet and went over the notes and the math. Haversham was young and clever, she'd give him that, but humans were inherently fallible. They were prone to error. The more simple the equations, the more daft the errors, Holly had found. Not this time, though. The young man was meticulous. That was probably why Ananda had recommended him for this job, even though his skills didn't tend to lean towards innovation and brilliance. He was methodical and patient. A true lab tester. "Well. This looks right. So let's see the real deal."

"It's a semi-solid."

She arched an eyebrow. A semi-solid? That meant the additive that caused the controllable burn was hand-meltable. "Not a gel? What'd you use?"

Aaron grinned. "Old Spice."

Holly blinked. "What?"

"They use propylene glycol in deodorants and, if applied as ... Well if you put it in as kind of an inner lube, before you seal it, you can get a neat burn."

"You learn something new every day," said Holly. She was rethinking her concept of Haversham not being innovative.

"I know, right? Totally changing my mind about deodorants now."

So was she. "How brightly does it burn?"

"It's more about the length. Here." He reached over and tapped a video on his tablet. They both watched the burn for a while.

Holly nodded. "Interesting... And if that was used to separate...oh." She stared over Aaron's shoulder. "Well now. I think I see the whole picture."

"You do?"

"I do. Try this..." And Holly detailed out a theory.

Take the antiperspirant and embed the granules that make the sparks. Roll it into balls and insert them in the pods used for paintballs. In turn, load those into a pipe bomb, wrapped in hay and rubber and, yes, sand. When they exploded, some pods would be destroyed, but many more would spread out. The heat would melt the gel of the antiperspirant and the reaction of warm gel and the granules would cause them to catch fire.

And it worked.

The fire was low at first but then sparked and set of small, secondary explosions. And best of all, it collapsed into separated components, like the time Gail's roux had broken. Clumpy, unappealing, and unappetizing. Culinarily speaking, of course. Scientifically it was damned beautiful.

"Pink stuff," said Haversham, astounded.

"Pink stuff," said Holly, beaming.

"That is _so_ cool."

Holly had to agree. After they reproduced the experiment, documented it, and cleaned up the lab, it was dinner time. For a moment, she toyed with the idea that she could order in and they could eat in the lab. There was always a problem with bonding with her newer employees. The things she'd been able to do as a regular pathologist and now, as the chief, were very different. In that moment of hesitation, Haversham thanked her for letting him help and ran off to meet someone for drinks.

Oh, to be young again. It was midweek, which was not a good day for drinking. Not unless she'd solved a major case and planned to take the day off. It had been long since time to face the facts. She was old. Holly sighed and packed up her things.

That was the long and short of it. She was old. She was nearing sixty and couldn't stay out all night drinking unless she wanted to pay for it the next day. Her idea of a good time with friends was a couple drinks, some nice talk, and home by eleven.

Of course, there she was home at seven and she didn't want to be home.

Home was boring. Home was lonely and empty and damn it, Gail was right. The house was a little too big for two people. For three, when one had a friend over most of junior and senior year, it had been right. Around the time Vivian started college, it had felt a bit roomy. Now, with no kid in the house and no wife, it was too big and Gail was right.

"I hate when she's right," Holly muttered and went upstairs. "She's going to gloat when I tell her."

Instead of making dinner, or going out for drinks, Holly put her laptop in the office and changed into jeans and Gail's softball shirt. If she was going to be alone, she could at least get something fun in. Like the batting cages. She used to love it, and it had been a while.

Naturally it wasn't as fun as she thought it would be.

Holly rested the bat on her shoulder and sighed. They hadn't been going to the batting cages much since Vivian had moved out, and that had felt alright. While the routine was calming, the new status quo of an empty nest was growing on her. But she'd been so bored and frustrated at home being totally empty, it seemed like the right idea. Go, hit some balls, get tired, sleep.

She watched a ball shoot by and realized that, more than anything else, the stupid batting cages made her miss her wife. What she wanted wasn't to hit the balls but to sit on the couch and feel Gail's arm around her.

Instead it was mid week and she was sans her wife. And her daughter, for that matter, who was grumpy and ignoring everyone.

Muttering a curse, she let another ball go by before getting into batting position. The ball came and she swung, connecting firmly and sending it just shy of the home run sign.

"Man, another five inches," said Gail.

Holly yelped and the bat went flying.

By the time they both stopped laughing (and crying from laughter) at what had happened, the owner rather politely asked them to leave. They were still laughing when they got to the Vietnamese restaurant nearby.

Twice in their life, Gail had surprised Holly at the batting cages. The first time had been after her horrible undercover op. How Holly had hated that one. Hated being a single parent, dealing with a depressed child, and most of all the lack of communication. This time had been filled with communication, to the point that at dinner, they just sat and grinned at each other, commenting on the food.

"Okay," said Holly at length. "When did you get home?"

"About two hours ago. I made Collins drop me off and threw my stuff in the wash."

"Honey... Nick is not your personal plaything."

"Potato, tomato."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Seriously. I know Nick and Andy are at a Coldplay reunion concert."

"Oh fine. Chloe and I had a bit of catch up."

"Isn't that better?" Holly smiled. "Okay, how was Regina and how did you get home a day early?"

"The usual. Bribery, chicanery, lying, theft—"

Holly laughed. "Gail!"

"Dead ends, mostly." Gail smiled. "Wasted my time trying to find a motive. All I know for sure is you know who really does care about hurting people."

"For sure?" Holly arched. "That's pretty big."

"Certain as I can be. An anonymous donation went to the families who were injured by the bomb in Regina." Gail reached over and picked up a pot sticker thingy. "And when we checked the video from one of the Rose trains that was nearby, we found someone who matches our sub's description. Helping the victims. So. Yeah. Sure."

Holly shook her head. "So she doesn't mean to kill or hurt. Cheerful."

"I know, right?"

Taking the last bit of food, Holly sighed. "Well, all I have is firm proof that the bombs are loaded with a special effects type charge that makes a flash and doesn't burn."

"The what now? I thought it was fireballs!"

Laughing at her wife's disappointment, Holly shook her head. "No. The real fires were too destructive."

Gail made a face. "Tell me you recorded it."

"Of course. And your daughter laughing at fires." She had, yesterday at least, laughed at the delay of the fires.

"That's my girl." Gail saluted with her glass. "Did she like your final solution?"

"She hasn't seen it yet. We only figured it out today around six." Holly shrugged.

"Bummer."

"So eloquently said." Holly smirked and reached across the table to run her fingers over the back of Gail's hand. It was nice to just touch her. No. It was wonderful.

Her wife beamed. "Okay. Let's settle up and get home. I want to shower and give you presents."

"What on earth did you buy in Regina?" She laughed and flagged the waiter.

"Well the circus was in town." Gail smiled.

They drove home together, Gail explaining that Chloe had picked her up so they could go over the human trafficking case. Indeed, the shipping company the antique shop used did use the boxes to transport humans, and were testing the run. Since that was four cases related to shipping or transportation of a sort, Gail used the Rose connections to determine some of Safary's targets.

The transportation of animals, by rail, in less than humane ways. The shipment of humans as if they were cattle. And so on and so forth. In short, Safary found companies who needed exposure, in the bad way, and revealed for all to see.

"The damned thing is, I have no idea how she finds these things! They're fucking well hidden. John said the forensic accountant was crying."

"Gail!" Holly laughed. "Stop making techs cry!"

"It's not like I try!" Gail stuck her lower lip out, petulant.

Laughing, Holly reached over the console and squeezed Gail's arm. "I love you, you insane woman."

"Did I make _your_ lab cry?"

"No, but when you do, they cry to Rodney who just laughs."

Gail smirked. "I like Rodney, even if he went and got you that one time…"

"It worked out." Holly glanced over, smiling fondly.

"It did." Gail yawned and stretched her arms up over and behind her head, pushing them into the rooftop. "God. I wish I could figure out how the hell Safary finds these morons. I'd hire her as a civilian consultant."

Holly blinked. "Can you do that with a criminal?"

"Sure. Part of their parole deal. We did it with that girl gang and the cars. Their lead tech worked off her sentence helping us beef up our systems."

"Huh. That's kind of cool."

"We try to white hat 'em when we can. I'd rather they join the side of justice and dress uniforms, but they tend to be kind of anti-the-man."

And Holly laughed. "I married the man."

"You did. So did I." Gail smirked. "Speaking of being the man, how's being the mom going?"

"Ugh." Holly pressed the remote to open the garage. "She's angry and hurt and I gather she took it out on Jamie, so she's avoiding. I felt like I was in a time warp."

Gail had the grace to look embarrassed. "Of all the quirks to pick up from me…" She shook her head and clambered out of the car. "I'll try to talk to her, but I don't know she'll want to listen to me any more than you."

"Want and will are different things, Gail." Holly locked the car and went inside. "She's really taking the whole aunt thing badly."

With a snort, Gail asked, "Can you blame her?"

"God, no. But still. She's mad for the right reasons."

"Oh, you mean mad at them and not us?" Gail sounded relieved.

Holly hmmed. That had been one of Gail's fears, that Vivian would hold it against them. "She appears not to be mad at us, no."

"I'll take it." Gail followed Holly up the stairs, neither bothering with the lights.

She saw the present as soon as she got into the bedroom and laughed. "What the hell? A flannel shirt?"

"Hey! That's the Saskatchewan tartan!"

"Seriously, Gail. You're insane."

Her wife snorted. "Turns out Saskatchewan isn't known for fuck all." Gail kissed Holly's cheek. "I think it'll look better on you than me, though."

"Honestly, I'm not sure it'll look better on anyone." Holly picked up the shirt. It was an odd melange of gold, brown, green, red, yellow, white and black. And not in a very attractive pattern. "Well. It's very 1970s."

Gail laughed. "It's from 1961."

"Oh, even better."

Somewhere along the line, Brian had told Gail that they were, in truth, related to the Stewart Clan. Vivian had been more interested at the time (as Holly recalled, she'd been ten or so and very obsessed in her mothers' lineages). That was when Gail found out what the Stewart Clan motto was. Virescit vulnere virtus. Courage grows strong at a wound.

It was better than the Peck family slogans, she'd said. They were descendants of the English lords, or so her father had claimed once. Elaine had rolled her eyes and countered that it was really unverifiable. The Pecks had neither a tartan nor motto, but they did have a crest that touted generosity and protection (also something to do with the crusades or religion). A copy of both their (theoretical) family crests hung in the hallway.

Still. Born of that discovery, Gail started to collect new flannels for Holly. Because Holly was a lesbian and had a damned tartan.

This one, though. It was a compost yellow. Maybe a baby poop green? It was unappealing in every way except in the texture. It was very soft. And Gail was right, with her pale skin it would make her look positively sallow. Holly held it up to her arm. It wasn't doing much for her either. "How can Saskatchewan not be known for _anything_ good?" Holly tossed the shirt at Gail.

"There's some pretty awesome mustard in the fridge." The blonde grinned and hung the shirt up. "I'm going to make a mustard rub pork butt this weekend I think."

"Ooh, I married a good woman." Laughing, Holly tossed her clothes into the hamper.

"I married a damn sexy one," countered Gail.

"We're both winning at life, then."

After showers, and after Gail cheerfully brushed and braided Holly's hair, they curled up in bed and, finally, it felt right. As Gail snuggled up along Holly's side, she exhaled. "I don't like sleeping without you," said the police inspector.

"Mm. I share that sentiment." Holly slipped her arm around Gail's shoulders and pulled her closer.

Gail laughed softly and ran her hand across Holly's stomach. "I have tomorrow off." Her suggestion was quite clear.

Holly yawned. "Good. I'll wake you up in a few hours." She snuggled more into the bed and exhaled.

The weight of her wife against her, the cool thrum of the air conditioner, and the swish of the ceiling fan, all were soothing. The house finally felt right again. Maybe it was a little too large, just for two people, but right now everything was perfect. She fell asleep, thinking of nothing more than how nice it was to have Gail home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a bit of a challenge to show a whole chapter from Holly's PoV. But there you go. A few days in the life of Holly Stewart, some science and experiments and playing around. Some missing her wife. Some dealing with her idiot daughter.
> 
> Interesting reveal about Safary not actually trying to hurt anyone. The bombs are for show. Now, why would that be?
> 
> Let me know if you liked this turn of events. Should there be more Holly chapters?


	28. 03.07 - Signals Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is getting married, someone is still having a fight, someone is going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone says yes, someone says no, there's some kind of tattoo, and something goes boom.
> 
> It's been two weeks since the last chapter. Holly's birthday has come and gone. They had a great time. Gail ate too much at the town's BBQ competition. Vivian and Jamie are still on the outs, but they're texting each other, as you'll see.
> 
> And John? Well. John's made a big, life changing, decision.

"Well? How do I look?" John Simmons turned around, showing off the outfit.

It was nothing she'd ever expected to see. Not that she'd ever expected to see it for herself, let alone a twentieth anniversary, but here she was. And here John was, engaged to be married at the end of the year. He was in the traditional Hindi engagement attire, a long shirt and coat over loose pants.

While Gail rarely saw him outside of a suit, he looked comfortable. In her mind, vacations and undercover didn't count, and John always looked weird in jeans. She half expected him to come up to the cottage in a suit, but he'd worn cargo shorts and a polo shirt. Close enough, really.

Now, though, Gail smiled at her partner and friend. "You look remarkably stupid." She held up her phone and snapped a shot of him, looking indignant.

"Can't you be serious?" He flipped her off.

"How long have you known me?"

"Too long," John said, despondently.

"Have I ever been serious?"

"Lots of times." Now John smiled. "You're very serious when you want to be."

Gail huffed. "Am I actually invited to the party?"

"You hate these things! People are going to be happy, Peck."

She grinned up at the man from her chair. "Yes. But ... John, you are one of three people I will be happy to see marry."

John froze and looked down at her. "What?"

Gail ticked off the names on her fingers. "Oliver, Vivian, and you. I've known you for longer than my kid, John. I have seen you screw up relationships and been burned by the wrong girl. The fact that Janet asked _you_ before you got the ring out of your pocket just makes me like her more. So. I want to come to your Mangni and celebrate."

That had been hilarious. He'd planned it all out and, getting ready for their dinner where he was going to propose, she'd shown up at his house and told him she wanted to marry him. And he'd said yes. And then, the next morning, after they'd barely made the dinner reservations and gone back to his place to celebrate, he'd pulled out the ring and they'd laughed.

"Your brother didn't make that list."

"His wedding was filled with Pecks, which included my mother, to whom I had not been speaking at the time." Gail waved a finger in John's face.

Taking a deep, breath, John sat down next to Gail. He said nothing and stared at the wall. "I wish my folks were alive."

That was something Gail couldn't even imagine. "That's why I _have_ to come," she told him. "Your mom asked me to take care of you."

John snorted. "I believe it. She'd come back and haunt me if she could."

Wasn't that a thought. "She did give me a look when I told her Holly and I eloped."

"See? Moms hate that. How would you feel if your kid did it?"

"God, please don't mention Vivian and marriage or babies to Holly. I swear her grandmother ovaries are kicking in."

The man smirked. "Oh, and your kid... Yeah. I'll warn Janet. They're going to do bridesmaids things later this week."

"Holly in a sari. Swear to god, made my day." Gail smiled. "Think your mother would have cared you're having a Hindu ceremony?"

"I'm getting married, Gail. I think that, after fifty years, she'd just be happy for that."

"Mine never really forgave me for the eloping."

Again, he snorted. "You got married, didn't tell anyone, and then we had to go interview Ross Perik. I will never forget that day, Gail."

One of the many reasons she liked John was that he didn't shy away from the topic of Ross Perik. "Long time ago."

"Twenty one years."

"Long time."

They both sighed. "Most folks don't have a partner this long," John said carefully.

"Technically you're my minion, not my partner."

Officially they'd not been partners since the day Gail stepped up to be Inspector. There had been a hilariously awkward time when he was a sergeant first and she was supposed to have a new partner but Butler had given up trying to enforce that. Peck and Simmons. They worked well together.

"I think I'm not retiring." He toyed with the hem of his shirt.

She took a deep breath. "I think I might."

Gail had never said those words to anyone besides Holly. Not even to her kid. Certainly not to her mother, who would have opinions with a capital O. But John. John was the guy who needed to know.

John exhaled loudly. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

He looked thoughtful. "Another ten or so?"

"Something like that. Probably faster when my kid hits ETF."

"How's she doing?" When Gail hesitated, he added, "This is her Uncle John asking, not Sgt. Simmons."

He was basically family. The problem was Vivian was still pretty messed up, and while she had talked to Holly, the girl was avoiding conversations on the subject with Gail. That was alright. Gail probably wasn't the voice Viv needed to hear from. "Eh. Holly said she screamed and ranted and had a good cry while I was out of town."

John nodded. "Denial. Anger. She into bargaining?"

"Moved on already. Depression. I'm hoping acceptance is also a heartfelt apology to Jamie."

"How do you know she's the one who has to apologize?"

Gail snorted. "Pro tip from someone who's married, John. Everyone always has to apologize. Always."

Her friend tilted his head and nodded. "Noted." John slapped his knees and stood up. "Okay. So you know you're totally dressing up for the wedding, right?"

Gail grinned. "Is that dude code for I get a fancy costume too? Cause I love dress up, John."

"You are such a girl, Peck!" But he slapped a box, clearly indicating it was for her.

"Well spotted, Simmons." Gail hopped up and opened her present of fancy Hindu wedding clothes. "If you're really nice, I'll help you with your makeup."

"You just wait." John grinned. "You have to join us for the dancing."

* * *

Tugging her collar looser, Holly wished she could get away with a less buttoned up appearance for court. It was still better than Gail, who was generally asked to come in uniform (if not her dress then her dress ups), even for these things. The tie was something Gail hated, even though she looked positively delectable in uniform. Gail shared the opinion of Holly, that her wife was incredibly sexy when dressed up for lawyers, and had expressed it that morning with a proposition to be late to court.

Sadly, court always meant there was no time for fun beforehand. Holly had to go and give testimony in closed court about her theory regarding the mystery head basher case. While lately she'd been wrapped up in Safary, the skull smashing had not even left her table. No, in fact Holly had made significant headway (no pun intended) and had an idea about who some of the killers turned victims might be. But she needed to exhume bodies, and for that... She needed a court order.

It was so annoying. They needed the court order to make sure they hid the fact that they were tracking down specific people and not just victims of unsolved crimes. But for the last year, Holly had been painstakingly matching the height and weight and guesstimated strengths of victims, trying to sort out which ones might be killers-turned-victims.

She was only sure of three.

The first judge had argued three wasn't enough.

Back to the drawing board, Holly had knuckled down and gotten more ingrained in her theory and statistics and measurements. She came up with two more she was certain about, and five she had a good feeling about.

The second judge wanted her to get more information on the five.

This brought her to the current judge, the third, who said the other two were idiots. Judge Liek took the science, listened to Holly talk, asked her questions, and then kicked her out to talk to the lawyers.

And so Holly sat in the hallway, no cell phone, for an hour, watching the clock tick.

Maybe that was why they still had clocks on walls.

She looked at her watch. Her phone was locked away upstairs, but in her years on the job, she'd added the wifi to her phone. The signal was strong enough that her watch could ping her phone. Technology was a wonderful thing, and Holly checked the news on her Smart Watch.

Really she was hoping to hear from Gail about John's engagement party. She secretly wanted a photo of Gail dressed up as the 'best man' or whatever title John was going to give her. Of all the people Gail knew, the only close friends she kept were her fellow police officers. The regular childhood friends never stuck, which given the Peck attitude about how one should only have useful friends made sense. But of all her police friends, John was the one who ended up straddling the line of friend and family more than anyone else, save Traci.

Even if Traci hadn't married Steve, Holly suspected Gail and Traci would be good friends. They still snuck out to drink together now and then, ditching spouses for wine and terrible bar food. Traci was, no doubt, Gail's best friend. John was a close second.

The sound of a door closing and excited footsteps pulled Holly out of her brain.

She looked over and immediately asked, "So?" Holly eyed the Crowne Solicitor as he walked up to her.

"So far, so good. The judge is willing to give us permission to dig up the graves."

Holly exhaled. A weight was lifted off her shoulders. "A hundred fifty years of graves." The number wasn't as mind boggling as all that, but still. It was a lot.

"That talk you gave in Boston cemented it, you know." The young lawyer (okay, he was 40, but that felt young) smiled. "He was impressed with how you figured all that out."

"A lot of trial and error. Can I call Simmons and tell him we're a go?"

Nodding, the lawyer waved a hand. "I'd wait till the papers are signed. But ..."

Holly beamed. "But send cookies to Judge Liek?"

"I think he'd appreciate cupcakes," said the lawyer, seriously.

"I can do that." Holly bounced on her feet. "Do you need me to sign anything?"

"Nope, I've got it."

They shared the new plan, which was for the Crowne's Office to send the warrant to Fifteen and John, while she got started on organizing her lab.

Since it was nearly lunch, she knew she wouldn't have time for both food and to go change, so she grabbed a wrap from her favorite vegan place on the way back to her office and ditched her jacket. As she was hanging her jacket up, Ruth popped in.

"You're back!"

"Judge was an easier win than we thought," she said with a grin.

"Plan A or Plan B?" Ruth looked equally excited.

"Plan A! We have a green light for the oldest graves, as soon as the papers come in."

"I'll run the reassignments," said Ruth, decisively, and went right to her desk.

She really was the best kind of assistant, the sort who understood technology and cared about it. When Katie had left, Holly worried that anyone would be able to juggle the distracted science cats of her lab, defend them from the hounds of the police, and tell the news 'no comment' over and over.

Ruth rose to the task. She was a former technology project manager from a major software development company. Everyone told her the job was a step down, but Ruth just smiled and said she loved science and crime more than bits and bytes. Holly had found her attitude, a mixture of direct and unrepentant, to be positively delightful.

In Ruth's second week, a news reporter had demanded information about a high profile kidnapping. Naturally Ruth said no, barring the man from the lab. When he became belligerent, she pulled out her cell phone and recorded the conversation, pleasantly telling him to leave over and over, and then pointing out she could push her video to the Internet.

Blackmailing the news reporter.

Holly knew then and there she was going to keep the woman on her staff as long as possible.

She had no qualms whatsoever about handing the onerous task of adjusting everyone's schedules to Ruth. The woman was so much more than just a secretary, she was the power behind everything time management. And that was the real secret of being a good boss. Having good staff who know how to do their job and how to do it well was the answer to everything.

Ironically, it was something Holly forgot about now and then. She was too accustomed to the excellence. And then, like the fortnight before, her team stepped up to thank her in a ludicrously simple way, like giving her a day to play in the lab and break open part of the Safary case.

This time, it wouldn't be an act of familial adoration that gave her lab time. The attention of the Mounties had bumped her head basher case to the top of the list of everything. Between Holly's constant work on narrowing down identities and the results of John's missing persons research, they'd gotten closer than anyone.

There were, always, hundreds of unsolved mysterious deaths in the city of Toronto. Cold cases were simply an expected drawback of the city. Places like Chicago or New York or Los Angeles had a hundred deaths a year, some murders, some not. To have a group of seemingly unrelated but vaguely similar deaths, over generations, was positively novel, and yet in retrospect quite logical.

Where else would a person hide carefully curated and executed deaths? A big city. A city with a constant ebb and flow of tourists. A city where Grandfather Winter killed the old, the infirm, and the young every year anyway. A city where someone mugged and with their head smashed in could look like just another random death in the city.

Until a pathologist saw the patterns in the skulls.

Until a detective noted the wallets were nearly always found.

Teamwork.

It was fucking awesome.

The first call was from Marcel Savard, the Mountie.

"You genius extraordinaire," he announced the moment she picked up.

"Thank you." Holly laughed. "The Crowne's office called you, eh?"

"They did. The law cowers in the face of your science."

"It usually does," said Holly, amused. "So other than being really excited about being able to exhume a bunch of long dead people, what's up?"

"I wish to propose an order somewhat different than oldest first."

Holly arched her eyebrows at her phone. "I'm willing to listen."

"Monsieur Simmons sent me his latest research into the suspects, their histoire, etcetera. I then used my contacts to determine if there was a possible connexion between them. And." He paused and Holly could hear the smile.

When Marcel didn't continue, Holly rolled her eyes. "And?"

"And I suspect that the original theory you locals had about a family connexion was correct. Four of the people had identification that was created through the same criminal sources."

What? Holly sat up and took notice. If they used the same group of criminals to get their fake IDs, then they probably had been in contact at some point. But what she said was, "You keep track of criminals and don't arrest them?"

"Oui. Many groups. They are, as Gail would said, the little fish."

That made sense, Holly had to admit. "Little fish lead to whales."

"Sometimes. Or people with bones."

"Or people with bones, sure. So ... Should we not exhume the ones associated with your little fishies?"

Marcel laughed. "No. No. One or two would be acceptable."

"Ah, and I bet you have the one or two named?"

"I do, yes, I do."

They discussed the one or two (actually three) that Marcel felt would send up the fewest red flags. Thankfully he was receptive to Holly's priority, which had never been age but always usefulness with regards to evidence. She wanted the bodies she felt would glean the most fact, the most usefulness. The ones that had the best chance of matching her models and proving, without a doubt, the trail of savagery this case had generated.

Once things were sorted with Marcel, Holly toyed with her phone. She could call John and go over the new plan, or she could walk down to Fifteen and see her friends.

Holly popped her head out of her office.

"Ruth, is there anything we were going to grab a courier for to Fifteen?" She couldn't keep the smirk off her face.

"Why do you and Inspector Peck think that's so damn funny?" Ruth rolled her eyes. "Actually... There was some evidence that Gerald forgot when he got yelled at by Pedro."

Everyone knew who Gerald was. "I'll take it, if it's portable."

"It's a lighter. We were lifting prints." After all, Pedro Nuñez worked for Gail. That was a bona fide excuse to smirk at her wife on the government dime.

Half an hour later, Holly swiped her badge to get into Fifteen and walked up the stairs to the top, third, floor. Eight years prior, while Gail and Holly had been off on a vacation, some moron had shot up Fifteen and destroyed most of the third floor, including Gail's office. Shockingly, no one had died so when Gail got back, she expressed her fear the only way she could.

Gail had been livid at Traci that her DAD mug had been destroyed.

Everyone knew Gail had really been terrified that her friends might have died.

But. Well. Gail.

In the cleanup, Gail had taken the time to reorganize and tweak the floor layout. Conference rooms became private offices and smaller group rooms. Of course Gail took the best room, but she also made sure there was more natural light for everyone. What had been a rather dark and foreboding floor was now nearly inspirational.

Pausing at Pedro's desk, Holly handed him back his evidence. The young detective was effusive in his thanks, and incredibly embarrassed. Holly promised not to tell Gail first, and then glanced at John's desk.

"He's in with the boss, talking about Safary. Kelly from Arson is there too."

Holly nodded. "Thanks."

She had no qualms about knocking on the door and then opening it without waiting for a reply. Gail would have locked it if it was a big deal. And indeed, Gail looked up from her desk as Holly walked in, breaking into a goofy smile. "Awesome. Go away, guys."

John rolled his eyes. "I think she's here for me."

"Actually," said Holly, impishly. "The courier was sick."

She and Gail shared a smirk. Gail waved her hand at the men. "You can have her in five minutes, John. Shoo."

Holly closed the door behind the boys. Gail just grinned from her chair. "Hey," said Holly, smiling, and she leaned against the door.

"Hey." Gail kept grinning.

"Did you eat lunch?"

Nodding, Gail leaned back and propped her feet up, continuing the banal conversation. "Chicken salad, light on the mayo, with Kelly and John. You?"

"Quinoa veggie wrap." She paused and smirked. "Did you brush your teeth, Gail?" And Gail flashed her rather demonic, saturnine smile. Holly rolled her eyes but walked over to kiss Gail softly. "Hi."

"Hi. Court went well, huh?"

"Mm. Technically it was a closed session with a judge."

Now Gail rolled her eyes. "Potato, tomato." She kissed Holly again. "You look happy. Like your science saved the day."

"It usually does."

"Oh and I'm the egotist?"

They shared a laugh. "You're a realist, Inspector. You know you're awesome." Holly shook her head and sat on Gail's desk, looking over to the side. "What on earth did you do to that picture of your mother?"

Gail craned her neck. "I gave her a monocle. Makes her look devilish I thought."

"I can't believe she likes this hobby of yours."

"Well. We're insane." Gail smiled. "Speaking of insane, I have to break up a tête-à-tête with my wife to go meet with Sue about a bomb."

"I hope my pre-birthday work helped there."

"Oh it did. We're gonna brainstorm motives, though. She's short a true bomb expert."

Holly winced. "Don't give Vivian ideas."

Gail shared the wince. "I'm sure she already has it." The blonde got up and stretched before stepping up into Holly's personal space. "Think we'll survive her in ETF?"

"Hard to say." Holly draped her arms on Gail's shoulders. "But probably."

With a sigh, Gail leaned in until her forehead gently bumped Holly's. "She'll be happy. She needs that." They kissed softly. "Ever think about fostering another?"

"Sometimes." Holly smiled. "I don't think I have the same energy I did twenty years ago."

"God." Gail agreed. "Me neither. Okay. Go set up your order of disinterment."

Holly narrowed her eyes. "Did Marcel call you?"

"Paperwork passes me first," Gail pointed out. She kissed Holly's nose. "Let's go rock the world."

She followed Gail out. Just spending a few minutes with Gail, a couple private seconds, made her feel good. It always had. Which was probably why she loved Gail so much. They were compatible. Gail made her smile. That was the sort of thing that made a person keep coming back. Even from the very beginning, Gail made her smile.

"Alright, Sgt. Simmons," said Holly as she came up to his desk. "Did you read your email?"

The man smiled. "I have. Yours and Marcel's."

Holly took the empty chair by her friend's desk. She remembered when Gail and John had a pair of desks, facing each other, over by what was now a coffee station. The day Gail took the job as inspector, John stayed alone in their old desks for a month and then came in to find his desk besides Griggs. Now his was there alone.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Putting those thoughts out of her head for the time being, Holly went over the details with John. While Marcel had his goals for which bodies to exhume first, Holly had her own, and so did John. They'd managed to come to an agreement, her and Marcel, but it was John who had the backgrounds sorted and followed. As Holly had expected, John wasn't thrilled to have his plans altered. Still, he adapted as quickly as someone who worked with Gail day in and out tended to do, and they picked their first exhumation.

It was not the oldest body, but it was from before either of them had joined the force. It was one they all felt wouldn't send up red flags to anyone. It was from a killer who had a larger spectrum of victims. And all they needed now was a few uniformed officers to guard the lab as they dug the body up.

As Holly and John went downstairs to bring Andy into the loop, they saw the three female rookies headed out together. Vivian loomed a little, her expression still sour, but Lara had a grip on her upper arm. On the other side, Jenny was animatedly waving her hands and talking about the bar they were going to.

"That's a good thing, right?" John sounded doubtful.

"It must be." Holly sighed. "I hope they have good luck pulling her head out of her ass."

"If she's anything like her mother, good luck."

Holly chuckled. "How stupid were you at that age, huh?"

To her surprise, John shrugged. "That was about when Bethany died, so I was pretty screwed up. Took me a long time to figure out how to be people."

She'd not known him until he was in Missing Persons, and even then only passingly. Once John had become Gail's calm, stalwart partner in badge, Holly knew him to be a good, quiet man. A balance to her impetuous (then) girlfriend, who still jumped in with feelings, daring the world to break her heart again and again.

"I wish I'd known you before then," said Holly quietly.

"Oh god." John laughed. "When I was a rookie, I was more like Gail than Steve, I think. Outsider and aloof. Hang on..." He pulled out his phone and tapped around, getting a picture of himself as a male hooker. His hair, nearly chin length, was slicked and styled. His pants were impossibly tight, as was his shirt. He looked like a heart breaker.

"Oh my god, John! How have I not seen this before!?" Holly laughed, feeling brighter than she had in a while.

"I just got 'em for Janet. She wanted embarrassing photos of me, and besides the lumberjack thing for that dog fighting ring, and the bleached hair for the anti-royalists, this is about it. No photos of my gang running days, I'm afraid."

That was right! Gail had told her John one ran with a gang. And then a thought came to mind. "Jonathon Simmons, I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you without a collared shirt."

The man blushed. "Well.. It's embarrassing."

"So the rumor is true?" Holly grinned ear to ear. Once Gail had let slip that John possibly had a tattoo, something Gail, for some reason, found ridiculous and stupid.

"I'm gonna punch your wife. Is that okay?" John rolled his eyes.

"She didn't say what or where!" Holly couldn't wipe the smile off her face. "I have two."

John startled. "What? You?"

"I know, right? Of all the things Gail could get prudish about, it's tats."

They both exhaled, a shared tone of amusement, frustration, and tolerance. "I can't fathom being married to her."

"It's never dull." She shook her head. "You looking forward to it?"

He blushed. "Yeah. I really am. I never thought... I never thought I'd make it here."

Holly glanced in the direction her daughter had headed off. Married. A child. A house. "Yeah. Me neither." She beamed though. "Come on. Let's go tell McNally we get to dig up graves."

* * *

Vivian came awake, all at once, with a jolt of physical pain. That was new. Her heart was pounding, which was normal for waking up in a strange place. Abnormal was how her left arm throbbed, and her head to boot. "What... What the fuck?"

She identified the headache as a hangover, which also explained the taste in her mouth. But why was she on someone's couch? Vivian checked... Still dressed. And she knew the apartment. Why was she at Jenny's apartment? Vivian poked her left arm. It was like a sunburn.

With a hiss, she sat up. Take the problems one at a time. "Why am I here?"

The question was rhetorical. They'd gone out drinking. A lot of drinking. Vivian eyed her watch and tapped up the sleep recording. She'd been asleep for an hour, with spots of other naps. Weird. Then her eyes hit the time. "Oh, fuck."

Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the door to Jenny's bedroom and pounded. "Jen! It's seven thirty!"

"Fuck!" Her classmate tumbled, fully dressed, out of her room. "What the hell happened to my arm!"

Vivian looked down at her arm. Actually looked. They had matching bandages. "Where's Lara?"

"My bed..." Jenny and Vivian shared a look. Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Jesus, I'm still dressed, you asshole."

"Yeah? And sober? Gimme the keys. We gotta go." Vivian looked over Jenny's shoulder. "Lara! Wake up! We're going to be late to Parade."

That got Lara moving and, in fairly short order, they were piled into Jenny's hatchback. Vivian drove, taking every single shortcut she could remember from Elaine's incessant instructions. They still skidded into the station ten minutes late.

"Woah, party girls," said Rich, smirking.

"Bite yourself," snapped Vivian, flipping him off as she bounded into the locker room, Lara and Jenny at her heels.

"Jesus, how stupid are we?" Lara was cursing as she wriggled out of her jeans. "Drunk and tattoos?"

Tattoos... Of course. Vivian peeked at her arm and dug out her hated long sleeved shirt. "Fuck, how did I let you talk me into that, Jenny?"

Jenny looked affronted. "How did you know it's me!?"

"Uh, you have four tats already." Vivian hesitated and searched her pockets for anything. Receipt. Lotion... Bingo. A note to apply the cream and let the tattoo air out when possible. No bandage. "Fuck. This is going to kill on the damned poly."

Now Jenny looked worried. "Yeah... Do you have a longer undershirt?"

"Good idea." Vivian found her nearly elbow length shirt. After a moment of hesitation, she removed the bandage and looked.

"What is that?"

"Uh... It's the golden ratio in a seashell ... I think." She frowned and turned to the mirror. The lines were clean, at least. It lacked color, though.

Jenny's was an Greek pattern, an upper arm circle.

Lara's was on her ribs, which was going to hurt like fuck with their vests, and was her own name. "My god ... We were _drunk_."

"No shit." Vivian winced and applied the cream to her arm before pulling on a shirt. "I am so dead."

More than likely, if they stopped playing intentional phone tag and talked, Jamie would give her shit for the drunken escapades. Then she realized her parents... Fuck. Gail would lose her mind. She could deal with her parents, though. How could she explain it to her girlfriend? If they were still girlfriends. Jesus, she was making a mess of things.

Someone cleared their throat and all three rookies looked up.

Staff Sgt. Andy McNally. All Vivian could think was thank god she had her shirt on. Andy would tell Gail about the tattoo. "Do I want to know what happened last night?"

"No, ma'am," said Lara very fast, and she tugged her shirt down.

"You three missed parade." Andy tilted her head. "Not a good start, Volk."

Start? They all looked at Lara. Then Vivian got it. "But... I thought the budget... "

"You, Peck, better watch your next words."

Vivian clammed up.

Lara swallowed. "Who... Who do I report to?"

"Fox is waiting for you in the bullpen. Go." As soon as Lara was gone, Andy glared at Vivian and Jenny. "You two. I'm disappointed. Both of you know better than to show up at work. Late. Hungover. And god knows what else." They both flinched. "You are police officers. You are expected to represent this city and this uniform."

As one, Jenny and Vivian mumbled a yes-ma'am.

Andy fixed them with a glower. "Peck, you're on admit. Aronson, evidence." And the sergeant turned on her heel and stomped out.

"Jesus we dodged a bullet," muttered Jenny.

Privately, Vivian felt it was hypocritical. Hadn't Andy and Gail tied one on the night before Traci's first day as a detective? "Except that you're stuck doing evidence inventory and I'm on admit desk."

"That's not terrible."

As Vivian walked into admit and saw cells line with drunk, smelly, frat boys, her stomach turned. "Jesus fuck, what happened, Beaumont?"

The older officer smiled as evilly as Gail. "Frat party. Evidence is filled with their crap."

It was rank. "Did they fucking vomit..." Oh god they had. They'd puked all over everything. And evidence was worse.

There was no doubt in her mind, Andy McNally was an evil, evil woman. Thank god growing up with Gail as a parent had inured her to horrible smells. It was still enough to curdle Vivian's stomach.

"Time to process them out. Bail just came in."

Vivian counted the heads in the cells and sighed. Ten sobering frat boys. "Alright. I got it." Beaumont slapped her shoulder, which hurt, and walked out. Tapping on the keyboard, she loaded up the information. "Okay, Erik Thorne." Vivian looked at the photo and then spotted the man in the last cell.

At least she wasn't going to have to rearrange the cells.

"Hi, marry me," said Erik Thorne.

"I'm a lesbian," said Vivian, feeling her day firmly walk into shit.

* * *

Listening to Andy retell the story, Gail and Traci were hard pressed not to laugh. "Hungover?"

"All three of them, swear to god." Andy snickered. "I shoved Aronson in evidence, Peck's on admit."

Gail smirked. "Did they know Volk was going to start with the Ds?"

"Nope!" Andy sighed. "God knows what the hell they got up to, though. They're all in long sleeves."

That was interesting. "Vivian too? Huh." For whatever reason, Vivian hated long sleeves. So had Oliver, now that Gail thought about it. "Ah well. Who'd you loan John?"

"Todoroki, Goff, and Smith. They'll do the job fine." The staff sergeant of Fifteen shrugged. "Exhumation. That is a nasty guard job. Though it's not as bad as guarding hung over frat boys or processing their evidence."

Gail was hard pressed not to cackle. "Well they came in late. God. I wonder what they were up to."

"Is this Inspector Peck asking?" Andy looked amused.

"Oh god no, it's Mom Peck wondering what shit her idiot kid is up to." Gail shrugged. "She's been having a fight with her girlfriend for ... Three weeks now. Almost four. They're texting each other at least."

Andy made a face. "I do not understand kids these days. Texting but not talking?"

Traci laughed. "That's because for some unknown reason, you known how to talk about your drama."

"And God, do you talk," said Gail, drawing the word 'God' out into four syllables. Traci smacked her arm. "Ow! She does!"

"Not all of us are emotionally stunted, Gail," teased Traci.

"Hah. Which one of us has only been married once? And successfully raised a child with her wife?" Gail preened and both Andy and Traci smacked her arms as one. "Ow! Fuck both of you!"

Probably other people would think they didn't like each other. The three were constantly calling each other names, harassing and teasing and, yes, slapping the others on the arm. But they'd been together for decades now. They'd survived the academy, their rookie years, their first steps into seniority, and now they were the old guard. They were the long term face of policing in Toronto.

As much as Gail was loathe to admit it, they cared about each other. All of them. They'd been cops together longer than anything else. They'd known each other for half their lives. They were family, more than most of the Pecks.

"Hey, is it true John's getting married?" Andy looked, as she often did on the topic of weddings, excited.

"Calm your tits, McIdiot. It's a Hindu ceremony, so no stupid wedding march." Gail put her feet up on the coffee table. "Picture Bollywood. Dancing, awesome clothes, bright colors."

Traci snorted a laugh. "You're going?"

"Uh, duh. I'm a groomsbian." Gail actually did like that term. Back when he'd married Traci, Steve had called her than. Not that John was really having groomsmen. Janet was having her bridesmaids, of which Holly was numbered, but John's youthful friendships were with gangs and thugs. And now, as a nearly sixty year old cop, his friends on the force were dead or retired and moved away.

Except Gail, really.

Well that wasn't true. A couple of his old friends from Missing Persons were filling in, as was a cousin on his adopted father's side. And like Gail, John was happy with a small circle of friends.

"Hang on, Hindu?" Traci grinned. "Tell me you're dressing up."

Gail pulled her phone out and showed them photos of herself and John, trying on their outfits. "Dancing too. Vivian's dreading that, but the engagement party is first. They have to do some weird garbage about astrology and whatever, but it's alright. The wedding isn't till end of the year."

Whistling, Traci admired the photos. "You look adorable. When are you going to stop dying your hair?"

"In the non existent future when someone makes me a grandmother," said Gail, blithely.

Traci had the grace to sigh. "How the hell did she inherit your stupid, Gail?"

"Hell if I know." Gail shrugged. "Anyway. How long you gonna make Peck and Aronson suffer?"

"Oh, just today," said Andy. "Sue asked for Peck. At least I know Christian will stick around patrol forever."

"So will Abercrombie," Gail pointed out, teasing.

Andy winced. "God. He's not that bad, you know. He's gotten better since he got shot."

"Not a selling point," said Traci. "I'm just glad Volk passed the check for the Ds."

"Bummed you're missing training her?" Andy grinned.

"A little." Traci looked at Gail, thoughtfully. "Are you glad Viv's not going that route?"

Gail blinked. "As opposed to being glad my kid wants to hare off into buildings? Kinda a crap shoot." Then she narrowed her eyes at Traci. The woman never asked leading questions like that without a purpose. Traci was too smart. "What do you know that I don't?"

"See, you shouldn't have ditched dinner with Dov last week." Traci teased her.

"Fuck you, I was in goddamned Saskatchewan and you know it."

Traci laughed. "Through the efforts of a generous donation and a plea bargain from the makers of our shitty vests, our budget drama is back to normal levels of shit."

Gail blinked. "Well fuck." The budget was contentious at best on a good day. Everyone was arguing over who got what slice of a very meager pie. They all wanted everything. More staff, more equipment, better equipment, upgrades, and more. "And you have a rookie."

"I get up to three more after next graduation," said Andy, thoughtfully. "It feels like just yesterday we were pushing those faces into the counter at the Penny."

"Ask Oliver. I bet it feels like yesterday he did it to us." Gail sighed and got up. "Saskatchewan. I'm going to go for a round with the psychologists and accountants, which is exactly as fun a mix as you think it is."

"I feel sorry for them," said Traci, teasing. "Need me for anything?

Flipping Traci the bird, Gail shook her head. "No, John's on the serial smashers, Chloe's got that dognapping ring. Gun trade still low?"

"Every since Hills and Three Rivers collapsed, yeah. It's practically boring."

Gail tapped her lips. "Remember Jordan? My CI?"

"Oh sure. Didn't she retire?"

"You're never _really_ out. She's still close to J.P.'s folks. Maybe she can point us to someplace new? Kids gangs?"

Traci winced. "And to think I wanted this gig."

"Guns _and_ gangs," said Gail, smirking, and she walked out.

* * *

Twirling in her outfit, Holly wanted to giggle. "Janet, you really want me to be one of your bridesmaids?"

The petite cook grinned. "Yeah. I do."

Three other women, all Janet Mehta's friends from college and the decades of life since, were dressed in saris that matched Holly's. Over the half-year of planning, Holly had found herself roped into helping as soon as Janet learned she could dance. Because the rest of her bridesmaids were, as they all lamented, klutzy.

Dance lessons were starting after the engagement ceremony, which was at the end of the week.

At least Holly didn't have to sing.

Still, she was the only 'new' friend. And she was only a friend because their partners were work-married and had been for almost as long as Gail and Holly had been together. Sometimes she felt like an add-on to the group. But Janet and her friends were all lovely people. They were more artists than anyone in Gail and Holly's normal circle of friends, which was just a delight to have. One of them owned a gallery, and was putting up a show of Izzy Shaw's latest work, which pretty much cemented them as friends.

And, damn it all, Holly looked great in the sari. "Okay, good," she told Janet. "But I will not be held accountable if Gail tries to sneak me off to a coat closet."

The professional musician, Kashvi, laughed. "How long have you two been married?"

"Twenty-one years this summer." Holly shook her head, ruefully. The collected women were impressed. Between them, there were 6 weddings.

"Okay, Holly, what's the secret to a successful marriage?"

She grimaced. "I have no fucking clue!" Everyone laughed. "I'm serious. I didn't… So I _thought_ Gail was straight when I met her. She was lamenting about men." Holly waved a hand. "But. Well, things happened and suddenly there's this woman and I'm totally head over heels for her, and the next thing I know I'm asking her to move in."

"See," said Kashvi. "That sounds like a perfect romance. Like you never fight."

Holly snorted. "Oh, we fight. I love her, but my god she can be infuriating."

"Don't fight in front of the kid?"

"Nah, she's seen it more than once." Holly sighed. "I don't know. I think we just have this one spot of luck."

Janet wriggled in her outfit, which slipped again and had to be repinned. "John told me you almost died once."

Everyone stared at her now.

"He exaggerates." Rolling her eyes, Holly told them the declassified version of events (which forced her to leave out what the mystery virus was that she'd been exposed to), and how she'd never been infected and just had a terrible coincidental case of meningitis.

"Wow. And I thought the story about John being in made for TV movies was weird."

Holly laughed. "He hates those movies!"

The others hadn't heard of that, so Janet and Holly explained about how John, or someone based on him, had been in not one but three terrible movies. Technically one was a mini series. They even pulled up the YouTube videos to show some of the more famous scenes.

Sadly one of them had a related video titled 'The Many Faces of Pathology' and Kashvi pressed play. It was, of course, some idiot's collection of scenes of the various versions of the fictional Chief Medical Examiner of Toronto, spliced with theories about who the characters were based on. Including some still shots of Holly, from her articles, Rodney, and more.

She really liked Janet and her friends.

Having friends outside of work, outside of school, was always so nice. Holly had spent too many years being an obsessed scientist and then wife and mother to really extend her friends beyond what she had going into adulthood. And when Vivian hadn't really brought many friends home (with their parents attached), it just was static. The only friend parents Holly had really met was Matty's, and his mother had been pretty useless.

Besides Rachel, none of her friends had children. While Chloe, Dov, Oliver, and Celery were certainly her friends too, they were Gail's first. Technically Janet came to her via John, who as in turn via Gail as well, but this was different. Janet was the sort of person Holly knew she'd be friends with for a long time.

As the women were laughing over the campy Netflix series staring Dr. Thyme, Holly's phone rang. Not recognizing the number, she replied professionally. "Dr. Stewart."

The other women broke up laughing.

Thank god she was used to life with Gail. She turned around and walked to the other end of the room.

"Hello, this is Howard from CDC Global Health. You filed a request to exhume a ... Mr. Alastair Thoravil?"

Holly blinked. "Oh, yes. We filed the petition with the judge's approval. Is there a problem?"

"We at the CDC are informed whenever a possibly infectious body is about to be, um, disturbed."

Suddenly she knew what was going on. "Except he didn't die of the Spanish Flu."

Howard startled. She could actually hear it. "What?"

"That's the whole point... Look, I'm out right now, but didn't you read the report?"

"The, um, report?"

"Section four and ten of the warrant?"

"There ... There were sections?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Seventeen. Section four, page ... I think it's seven. We detailed soil analysis and historical evidence we still had which proved no living virus. It has the police report which included how the constables and detectives both felt the case was unrelated to the flu. Section ten covers our plan to perform a secure and safe extraction, just in case we're wrong. We'll have all participants inoculated and in full protection, above your standards, complete with a tent. And yes, the officers are included in our precautions."

There was silence. The room and the phone were silent. Holly didn't look back as Howard spoke. "Oh. I see. I, um, I see. That ... Oh I. I'm going to review— I'm going to have this re-reviewed and call you back?"

"Or my office," said Holly, coolly.

"Or that. Thanks. Um. Thank you, Dr. Stewart." Howard mumbled a goodbye and hung up.

Holly sighed. She was pretty sure she knew that particular idiot. "Dumb ass." She turned back to the bride and her bridesmaids and found them all staring at her. "Oh. Sorry. It was a work thing."

"That was cool," said one of the women. "Did you memorize your own report?"

Wincing, Holly nodded. "I did. I had to review and revise the damn thing a dozen times. The judge was being real picky."

Janet nodded, sagely. "Gail's worse. She memorizes what you're saying _while_ you say it."

"Only if she's actually paying attention," said Holly, trying to make her wife's weird habit seem normal.

"Oh sure," said Kashvi. "She's a detective. Like don't play cards with John, the bastard counts cards!"

Janet laughed. "He does! He also speaks three languages. How many is Gail up to?"

"You're making her sound weird," said Holly, her voice a mumble.

"I heard you recite the Fibonacci sequence on a dare, _Doctor_." Janet smirked.

"You sang the Elements!" But Holly laughed too.

"That's nothing," said Kashvi, conspiratorially. "She can break down any recipe, translate from metric to imperial, and she can increase or decrease. Need 175% more cookies? She knows how much flour."

Rolling her eyes Janet announced, "Anyone can do that!"

At the same time, Holly pointed out the obvious. "That's just math!"

When she got home, Holly retold the conversation to Gail, who found it suitably funny. "You're faster at kitchen math than I am," Gail said as she brought plates to the table.

"Anyone's better at math than you." Holly smirked at her wife. "Elaine said the only reason you passed math was you had a crush on your teacher."

Gail huffed. "Probably true. She was tall, dark, had glasses."

"Sexy librarian? Totally your type."

"Exactly." Smirking, Gail sat down. "I bet she'd make that joke you do about a guacamole being avocado's number."

"Avogadro's number."

"See?" Picking up her wine glass, Gail took a long drink. "At least you had a good day. Forensic accountants take the fun out of forensics."

"Yuck. I'm sorry. Did you at least figure out a motive?"

"Nothing connective. It sucks. For a change I have acres of evidence and none of it fits."

"Want to unpack it?"

Her wife hesitated and then shook her head. "No. Not right now."

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Gail smirked. "Nerd."

"Your nerd." Reaching her foot out under the table, Holly found Gail's leg and poked it. "We start exhumation on Monday."

That excited Gail. "Oh cool. An over hundred year old body."

"Hundred fifty." Holly smiled. "Soldiers from the First World War brought over the flu when they returned, causing an epidemic."

"How many died?"

"50 thousand."

Gail whistled. "Right after we lost over 60k in the war, too."

It made Holly smile, that Gail just knew things like that. "True. That's why we got the department of health, though, which is why we have the CDC who called— oh! That's why I knew Howard!"

"Howard? Who's Howard?" Gail looked totally confused.

"The moron who called me today. I talked to him when I was exposed to that virus."

It took a moment, but Gail caught on. "Seriously? Same guy?"

"Howard with the CDC. How many can there be?"

"That... You know. That kind of terrifies me," said Gail in her most serious tone. But then she took a bite of her pasta. "Tell me about the Spanish Flu."

Holly grinned.

People always said that it could take forever to find the one. Not that Holly would ever, on her life, tell Gail she was the one. But the TV shows always had some girl who changed from nerd to princess to be the one the best friend was looking for, and that it always took time. And yet. Gail had taken no time at all to fall from friend to crush to lover and to wife.

Here, in the thorny, opinionated, dark humored cop, Holly found someone who didn't want her to change. There, finally, was a woman who saw her as the nerd and the geek and loved her for it. Gail loved that Holly was a fountain of weird information, mostly scientific. She loved trying to one-up Holly on weird shit of the day. She loved being one-upped. She loved Holly.

"So the epidemic came in two waves. The first was the normal one, like we warn people about. The ill or the infirm are susceptible. But the second one... That one took young, healthy, kids. Teens and young adults. And that's when it went from epidemic to pandemic."

Other people probably thought that talking about the history of mass death in Canada was an odd thing to do at the dinner table. Gail hung on Holly's every word.

* * *

The text was short.

_Don't get shot._

Vivian's thumbs lingered over the keys off and on all day, waiting until she knew Jamie was probably sleeping at the station to reply.

_No chance. Stuck with frat boys. Don't get burnt._

She added a smiley face with an eyeroll.

There was no reply. As expected. There would probably be one later that night, sent after Vivian's phone slipped into Do Not Disturb mode, or when it would be too late to logically reply.

Grimacing, she tossed her phone into her locker and followed it, hiding her face in the dark for a moment. This was not good.

"You should try calling her," said Jenny as she opened her locker beside Vivian's.

"No offense, but the last time I took your advice, I ended up hungover and late." Vivian sighed and leaned back out, eyeing Jenny. "How do you think Lara's doing?"

Jenny exhaled loudly. "Probably awesome. She's smart. Talented." Sitting down on the bench, Jenny took her over shirt off. "Is Staff around?"

They were not. Vivian shook her head. "All clear if you want a shower. But you know they don't care."

"Seriously? My granddaddy told me all about how they fired someone for this," hissed Jenny, and she gestured at her arm.

"Sure, thirty years ago." Vivian rolled her eyes. Jenny had been hiding all of her tattoos from the rest of the division since she started, which Vivian thought was stupid. The others were, at least, hidden by clothes. Even in a baby doll tank, you didn't see Jenny's tattoo of a hand holding a rose. It was really pretty, all outlines. "They gave up after the Mounties did."

"What?!"

"You didn't know?" Vivian shucked her uniform and wriggled into her jeans. "The Sgt. Major who comes on the floats has a full sleeve."

Jenny looked a little impressed. "I don't see you flaunting yours."

Vivian sighed. "That's the bane of our sergeant being my fucking babysitter growing up. She'll tell my mothers."

"What? And they'd care?"

"Gail would. She's ... She's old school. She's incredibly broad minded about all sorts of things, but not policing and ... Propriety." Vivian shook her head and shoved her dirty uniform into her bag. "Police have to represent things properly."

Jenny did not seem to believe that one bit. "Our Inspector? The one who wears jeans and boots practically every day? With bleached blonde hair? I've heard her mouth too, she's a brat!"

"Sure, in here. Watch her in the field or catch her at court, and she does not fuck around." Having seen Gail enough times on TV and in court, a rare treat she'd begged for as a teen, Vivian well understood the difference. "Look, remember Rich's talk at the academy?"

Her friend scowled. "Uniforms?"

"That's the one. Presenting a common appearance generates trust."

"Yeah, you lost me."

"Pecks think that tattoos deviate from the proper norm for police officers. Gail's hair is a sort of safe rebellion."

Jenny, a legacy as much as Vivian was, nodded slowly. "Oh. God, your grandmother too."

"I really don't want to think about it." Vivian pulled on her summer riding jacket.

"So you're going home all stinky?"

"No, I'm going to my gym."

"Gonna get it removed?"

The what? Oh, the tattoo. Vivian shook her head. "No. I don't think so. I'm just... I'm deferring that as long as I can."

"How's that gotten you with your girl?" When Vivian didn't answer, Jenny spoke again. "I still think you should just call her and apologize for whatever you said."

Vivian sighed again and shut her locker. "I'm just going to be a fucking asshole and say it again right now. See you tomorrow."

And that was the problem. She was still angry. Vivian still felt moments when she wanted to rage against everything and scream. It was all she could do right now to keep it within herself, swallow the hurt, and not cry. And the more she held back the tears, the more she felt the fire of agony inside.

Anyone would understand that, she suspected. But would they understand the other part of it? The part where she was terrified of being her father. What if this was how it started? A slow decay into an inability to control one's base urges like that, the slipping of the veneer of humanity, expedited by the abuse of her grandparents.

She'd once asked Holly how she could tell what was her biological family and what wasn't. It was as much as she'd ever expressed her fears to her mothers. Not that she didn't think they'd understand, but she didn't want to talk to them about it. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to be it. She just wanted to be Vivian Peck.

Vivian sat on her bike and stared at her phone again. Damn it. She opened the exercise app and pulled up the map of where she'd been the night before. Years ago she'd tweaked the GPS settings so it only checked locations when she wanted it to, and not by external methods. That had driven Gail up a wall, not being able to track her location. In deference to Gail's perfectly rational paranoia, Vivian had enabled tracking for her mother and made damned sure the data was encrypted on all their devices.

Everyone had their own paranoias, after all.

Studying her phone, she popped into the raw data and tried to make sense of where she'd been and for how long. That was the real problem with the exercise maps. They told a person where they'd been and how long it took, but specifics were omitted on the display. The raw data was more useful for that, but the apps sure didn't make it easy to find.

All she wanted was to find where she'd gotten tattooed the night before, but she was stuck with a list of possibles. So all she could do there was ride her bike until she found the right place. Fuck the gym for now, she decided, and headed to the first place they'd stopped.

An hour and a half later, she was two tattoo parlors down and no closer to finding the artist who did her tattoo. She wasn't even sure she knew why she wanted to find it, but somehow Vivian knew she had to. The third store looked familiar, and Vivian was struck by sudden doubts. She could turn around and walk away.

Still... Vivian chewed her lip and opened the door.

"Hi, be just a second." The girl behind the counter was tattooed, pierced, and her hair was dyed multiple colors.

Vivian felt a surge of envy. The police force had, back before she'd been born, had a policy about no visible tattoos, but they permitted cover ups. That had changed, being called unfair, and evolved to where it was now allowed but certain positions frowned on it. ETF used to ban people for them. Now Sgt. Smith had a half-sleeve, and just wore long shirts when he needed to be official and presentable.

But the dyed hair and piercings were still a no go. They weren't outright banned, but everyone knew that there was no way to get ahead with them. And Vivian missed being able to mess with her hair. What Gail did was socially acceptable.

She waited in silence, shoving her hands into her pockets and looking around. Now that she was inside, she was sure this was the right place. It had the feel, the vibe she remembered from two nights ago. The same smell. It had to be right.

"Sorry about that, can I help you?"

"It's okay. Work ..." She hesitated. "Help. Yes. Do you know who did this?" Vivian pushed her sleeve up. There was no point being embarrassed about her reality.

"Oh hey, that looks like Pork Roll's work."

"Sorry. Pork Roll? That's a name?"

The girl laughed. "Porter Rollins. He was chubby when he started, so we called him Pork Roll. But that's him. Nice lines. Want me to get him?"

Vivian hesitated. "Uh. That depends how shitty my friends and I were."

"That sounds like a story."

"It involved tequila."

The eyes across the desk brightened. "Oh you're the three girls who came in, got tattooed, and got blitzed on the tequila! Oh yeah, yeah, you're alright."

Vivian exhaled, relieved. "You sure? I was fully prepared to apologize with coffee and donuts?"

"What kind of donuts?"

Smirking, Vivian put the bag on the counter. Of course she'd brought the donuts anyway. "Mixed assortment."

"Oh these are good." The girl took out a fluffy one and bit into it, looking just like Gail. "So good. I'm gonna get Pork Roll." She paused, took a second donut and left it on her counter, taking the rest into the back.

A few minutes later, an unfamiliar man came out. "No, I did the other one," he announced as soon as he came out. "The Greek one. Al did this." But Pork Roll came up to take a serious look, chewing on an old fashioned donut. "Yeah, Al has way cleaner lines here. Curves, he's awesome."

"Is Al... Here?"

Both employees shook their heads. "He's in Friday," said the girl, looking at the computer.

"Gonna complain?" Pork Roll frowned a little. "If you want the name of a removal—"

"Woah, no no." Vivian crossed her hands in front of her. Suddenly she knew exactly why she was there and what she wanted. It was perfectly clear. "I want to finish it."

The tattoo artist blinked. "Really? I got the impression you girls were having a bit of fun. I mean... Yours was the most intricate."

That was true. She'd seen the others and they all looked fine as they were. Her's though was terribly unfinished. "I can't speak for my friends," Vivian pointed out. "But. Uh. I know fuck all about this. How long would it be to finish?"

Pork Roll stuck out his lower lip. "Lesse..." He took over the computer and pulled up some file. "Oh, just the blue and it looks like that. Okay. At least a couple hours. Three or more if you want the white. Some people do."

Three hours. Huh. "How does that work? Just ... I sit for three hours?"

The two employees grinned. "Depends on your pain tolerance," explained the girl. "I've had clients who can only last an hour."

Oh they were both tattoo artists. Vivian kicked her sexist brain. "I see. So at least one more ... One more session? Can I schedule that?"

And both tattoo artists stared at her. "You explain it," said Pork Roll. "I've got to get ready for my back work."

As he headed into the back of the store, the girl sighed. "Look, kid. You're, what, twenty five? Some professional?"

"I'm a cop," said Vivian, as blasé as she could muster. Kid?

The girl (woman?) was surprised. "Oh. I thought that was against the rules."

"Not for like ten years." She paused. "What's your name? I'm Vivian."

"Lola." The tattoo artist held out her hand. "And I'm forty."

Vivian startled. "Shit, you do _not_ look it. And trust me, my mom looks half her age." They shook hands.

Lola laughed. "Thank you. Listen, Vivian. You don't have to get this finished. It looks fine, and the detail work for this is going to be long and painful. If you're trying to be cool or something, just leave it alone."

Ah. This was the talk-out conversation. Vivian shook her head. "This is because we got drunk. Right. No. I want to finish this. I know it probably looks stupid, but I'm sure. I mean, Jesus, I hacked into my GPS to see where the hell I'd gone the other night to track you guys down, since you haven't charged my fucking credit card yet."

That surprised Lola. "We didn't charge you?"

"Not yet."

The woman tapped on the keys. "Oh I see. There's this ... Never mind. Anyway. Pushing that through now. If you want to schedule, there's a fifty percent down for it."

"That's fine." Vivian held out her credit card. "Friday night? I get off shift at six."

"Seven work?"

"Yeah. If I have to reschedule I can just call? Won't lose my deposit?"

"Well. Normally... But you're a cop. I bet your hours aren't regular."

Vivian grinned. "Never. Not even once."

* * *

When she walked into her office, someone had written on her white board: All work and no play makes Gail a raving bitch.

She narrowed her eyes. "John, you're a cocksucker!"

"Nope, still boring and hetero," replied John.

Gail turned and saw him in her doorway. "You're not funny." She pointed at the board.

"I'm fucking hilarious. And you're stuck and frustrated and being a bitch. Which you told me to warn you about."

"I didn't mean like that," she said in a low voice.

John didn't seem affected by her language or tone. He knew her too well. "Look. What makes you think you'll magically solve this case fast? No one else has."

While he had a point, she didn't really care. "First of all, I'm more awesome. Second, this coming from the guy on a century and a half old case?"

"It's not the only bone I'm gnawing," John said, pointedly. "You have too many politics in your life, Gail. You need a fun, moderately high profile case to take the edge off."

She huffed and sat down, somewhat defeated. "Yeah. Well." Staring at her white board, Gail frowned. "I do. And I'm not getting it any time soon. Because I'm the boss."

"You wanted to be the boss."

"I was drunk on the idea power."

John laughed. "Glad you admit it!"

"Is there a point to all this?"

"Yes. You, SuperPeck, need a break. You're extra irritable and grumpy."

Gail pressed her lips together. While Holly had not said the same, she'd implied that a vacation from work might be in order. Holly's birthday had involved a long weekend, but that wasn't really enough and they both knew it. Sometimes Gail just had a hard time relaxing. It didn't come naturally to her.

She looked at John and sighed. "You're right."

Her friend startled. "I'm right?"

"Yeah, you're right." Gail sighed. "I don't have a functional off switch, John."

John stepped inside the room and closed the door. "That sounds like something Holly would say."

"She does." Looking at the white board, Gail huffed. "I don't know how to not go at full throttle."

"Gail... You are one of the laziest creatures on the planet."

"True."

"And you're telling me that... What, you're either all or nothing?"

Gail nodded. "Yes."

John looked at her, thoughtful and quiet. "How are we just now talking about this? We've been friends how long?"

"Long time." Gail smiled, tiredly. "Look it's ... I have a very carefully cultivated veneer of not giving a fuck."

"Hence the lazy?"

"Hence the lazy."

"Yeah... I can see that." John sat on the second chair and sighed loudly. "Is this why you got all stressed out back when we were working the Rose case?" When she nodded, he scowled. "And now you're working it again. Kinda. Jesus, Gail."

She actually hadn't thought about that. "Oh, God. I didn't make that connection... You know Donnie's up for parole?"

John winced. He visibly winced. "Well that is a bitch."

"And so am I." Gail got up and wiped off the board as John looked guilty. "Oh. Don't do that. You're right, I've been a pain in the ass. And frankly, I'm thinking Safary goes back on the shelf, along with your shit."

"Is now the time to tell you we have leads? Like real ones?"

Gail grinned. "Oh please tell me that Howard is involved!"

"Howard? Oh! The CDC guy? God, you and Holly both." John laughed. "Why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him, I just think he's an idiot."

"How is that different from anything else?" John stretched his legs out. "You need a vacation."

"Holly's birthday is next week. I'm taking four."

"A long weekend to your cabin is not a vacation."

Gail snorted. "No internet, no tv—"

"And with an open case, you'll stress and think about it. How the hell did you used to decompress before?"

"Before what?"

"Before now? Maybe you should take your kid out and do something mommy/daughter."

What _did_ she do to de-stress herself? What did anyone do? "I hate unsolved cases," she muttered under her breath.

"Want a solvable one? We have that embezzlement thing?"

"Boring."

John went on, seemingly unbothered. "There's the B&Es at the AirB&Bs."

"Trujillo and Pedro have that. They're good... We should official that up."

"You think? They're both young."

"They're good work partners. Better than Pedro and Vince."

"Okay. I'll do that." John didn't make a note. He didn't have to. Gail loved that about him. "How about... No that's depressing."

"I'm not taking the mummified baby, Simmons. Look at where it was found." During the demolition of a high school, a baby had been found wrapped in paper and chiffon. Gail had no doubt it was a baby born during prom and either left to die or, she hoped, stillborn. "Run the DNA. The dress fabric was popular when Viv was still going to school dances, so it's barely more than a decade. Dried by the air systems. We were pushing a lot of sampling for the youth database back then. Good chance we have one of the parents in the system." She glanced over. John was smirking. "What?"

He kept smirking. "You get how you probably just solved a case by complaining about it?"

"Fuck you, I'm not taking it. Give it to Mayhew."

John got up. "Yes, ma'am. Assign it to Mayhew, ma'am." He mock saluted her. "Don't tell him how his boss can solve crime while asleep."

"Go!" But. But Gail laughed. And she felt lighter and better than she had in days.

* * *

When she got to Vivian and Christian's place, Holly was astounded. It was a marvel.

"You built an electrolysis tank." Holly squatted on Vivian's deck to study the plastic bin. There was a wooden stick across the top with a metal cord holding the rusted gun in the water, hooked up to jumper cables.

"Well it's rusted," said Vivian, defensively. She was glaring at Christian. "I can't believe you called my mom."

"You're hooking up electricity to water! People die like this!"

Holly laughed. "Okay, okay, step down." Both youngsters grumbled. Holly jerked her chin at Christian who caught the clue. "She's done this before, Christian."

The man grumbled again. "Fine. I'm going out. Please don't burn the place down."

She checked the set up carefully, waiting until Christian had indeed left the apartment. The last time they'd tried it, Holly had designed and built the tank. This one was better, more efficient, and clearly the kid had done it on her own. "This is ... This is brilliant, Viv. What's your plan?"

"Soak it overnight, get as much of the rust off as I can. Then soak it in restoration oil and see if I can make it move. While that's going on, check the serial to make sure I don't have a stolen gun, and get it so I can disassemble it the rest of the way. I should be able to make it usable by November."

Double checking the leads, Holly asked, "Is this the gun I asked you to get her two years ago?"

"Yeah! Isn't it crazy? I found it at a garage sale."

"Since when have you gone to garage sales?"

Vivian flushed. "Last couple weeks."

Also known as the weeks in which Vivian had been fighting with her girlfriend. "Honey. Have you considered throwing yourself at her mercy?"

Quietly, Vivian kicked at the railing on her deck. "Yes."

"And?"

She was quiet for a while. "How did you know Mom was it? Was it the thumb?"

Left turn. Conversations with Vivian often went in odd directions, though. "Oh. So many other times too, sweetheart." She stood up. "But yes, when I was walking away from her in the station after the thumb thing, I knew I was making a huge mistake."

"How come we do that? How come, even when we know we're wrong, we do the stupid?"

"God, if I knew..." Holly shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know how to fix it."

Vivian leaned on the railing. "I know I need to say I'm sorry. I don't know how to say it right."

"You could try dragging her into interrogation?"

There was a pause and they both laughed. "That really doesn't work for anyone else, Mom."

Holly reached over and tweaked Vivian's nose. "Gail's going to go apeshit over this if you pull it off."

Blushing, Vivian ducked her head. "I hope so. I already ordered the rest of the parts."

"You, you are your mother's child. I think she bought out QVC when we broke up."

To her surprise, Vivian looked worried. "Did we break up?"

"Oh honey, I don't know," Holly said sadly. "I really don't."

Vivian did the weird thing where she'd gnaw on the inside of her cheek. The mom in Holly wanted her to stop. "How'd you know ... When you and Mom y'know?"

Holly blinked. "How did I know we broke up? Well she was a brat and didn't answer 8 voicemails and 27 text messages." While Gail might argue it was 28, one of the messages had been an honest accident, trying to text the lab about a case. Still, over twenty years later, Gail still remembered every single voicemail and text. She'd read them, and been unable to reply.

But Vivian looked a little stricken and pulled out her phone. "I replied," she said softly.

This part of a conversation was hard enough as a friend. It felt impossible as a mom. "Honey. What's the last text?"

"Uh. I sent her a photo of the whole electrolysis set up and said I was cleaning it for Mom. And she said not to set the building on fire, it's outside her jurisdiction."

That was far better than the random facts that Holly had sent Gail. After the first week, she'd run out of ideas on how to apologize, so Holly sent her factoids about parthenogenesis and random history bits about forensics in Toronto. There had been a few asking just how many Pecks were there in the city, and how many had been high ranking officers.

Holly exhaled. "That's a good sign, sweetheart."

"Yeah?" The look on Vivian's face was hopeful. "Okay."

"But you need to talk to her."

"I know. I know."

"Still angry?" When Vivian nodded, Holly sighed. "You need to talk. Tell her why you're angry. Tell her you still like her." And Vivian nodded again. Hmm. Holly tried a different tactic. "Do you kind of feel empty? Like not having her around is making a hole in you somewhere?"

Vivian stared. "Kind of, yeah."

"You might be falling for her, honey."

It was unexpected, the bitter expression on Vivian's face. "I can't .. Mom. I don't ..." The girl turned and leaned on the railing, scowling. "I don't _know_."

"Know what?"

"What love means."

Holly wanted to laugh. She wanted to laugh at the serious, pained, thoughtful expression on Vivian's face. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the question. She wanted to laugh with the sadness of realizing her daughter didn't know. She wanted to laugh because she couldn't cry about it.

"Oh, honey." Holly moved over and rested a hand on Vivian's back. "No one does. Not even me and Gail."

Vivian leaned into her a little. "But I ... You love Mom."

"I do," said Holly. "And I love you, and my parents, and even Elaine." Vivian laughed a little. "But I don't know why. And I can't really explain it, except that I know it. I see them, I see you, and you're a part of me. You especially, Viv."

The big, hazel eyes looked at her. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. I saw you, that first time you came into the old townhouse, and I just felt like you were a part of us. You were meant to be with us, and we were meant to take care of you and help you be a person."

There was a sniffle. "I know I love you," said Vivian quietly. "I don't ... I don't know how that works with people who aren't you guys."

"That's okay, honey." Holly tried to project comfort and assurance. She often felt like she wasn't as good at that as she should be. Confidence outside of her work was never her strong suit. But at the same time, Holly had a good nineteen years of practice with her daughter. Be a mom. Sometimes, all a child needed was for a parent to be there. Even if she was 25 and very much not a child anymore.

Vivian sighed, deeply. "I hate people."

"Me too."

"Gail too."

"Oh, God, she does." Holly smiled softly. "Look. Without saying big words like 'love' or anything, she obviously cares about you enough to give you space to deal with whatever's in your head and yet still is willing to text and play phone tag. Right?"

"Yeah," said Vivian softly.

"And you want to talk to her, you just don't know how. Right?"

A pause. "Well. Yeah." Vivian leaned away and looked at Holly, bewildered. As if the words were all true and she wondered just how the hell Holly did that.

"Thats what you tell her. You miss her, you want to talk but you don't know what to say, and you're hurt and angry because your birth family screwed with your head."

Vivian sniffed and nodded. "You make that sound easy."

"Oh, it's not. Eight voicemails, and Gail's still the one who said she loved me first." Holly shrugged. "Love isn't like the movies, or people like Andy think." They both laughed a little. "It's ... Chloe gets it. So does Celery. They know there are people you're just going to love, and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn't, but you're going to love them and it makes no rhyme or reason but they're the people you can't do without." Holly reached and gently tweaked Vivian's nose again. "You know how it feels. You're just confused by it."

"How come you're so smart?"

"I'm old, sweetie."

Her daughter looked a little cryptically at her and then pulled Holly in for a deep, real hug. They were rare. The moments that Vivian just did that, just hugged and held and was a regular, normal, person were so precious and few. Holly wrapped her arms around her kid and hugged her back.

This, she tried to say in the hug, this feeling is love.

* * *

When she opened the door, Lola grinned. "Hey, right on time."

Part of Vivian couldn't believe she was doing it. "I try to be punctual," she admitted.

"And more sober. No regrets, huh?" The woman grinned. "Al's waiting for you. Come on." And she led Vivian to a back room that was mostly familiar.

Al, not Pork Roll. And he was absolutely the guy she vaguely remembered from the night. "Hey, cop girl! Pull up a chair."

Vivian sat and took off her over shirt. "Thanks for fitting me in."

"Promise not to get loaded tonight?"

She smiled. "Sober all the way through tonight."

"Your friends gonna get theirs finished?"

"I don't know... The lines you guys did are really nice, though. Clean." She leaned back. "I wouldn't hate it if I left it as this."

"Yeah, but this is going to look awesome." Al grinned. "Blue and white. Right?"

Vivian nodded and sighed. "I don't actually remember why I picked this."

"You said it was about your mom?"

And then, suddenly, she knew. Vivian exhaled. "Oh."

"She dead? I mean, we get a lot of that."

"No, God. No. I have two. Moms. Uh, both alive. One's a cop and one's a scientist."

Al made a noise of understanding. "I see."

And for once, Vivian felt words bubbling up out of nowhere. This man, this total stranger who had a needle to her arm and was creating art in her skin was someone she could talk to. "I took Peck, y'know, so I could be something other than my birth family. Better. Something better. Only they showed up anyway and it all blew up in my face."

"Uh huh." Al nodded and concentrated on his work.

"I picked a fight with my girlfriend," said Vivian quietly. "A stupid, stupid, stupid fight. I'm not even mad at her. I'm mad at... At my birth family, God they're assholes. And I'm mad at me, because I want to tell them to die, and .. I can't. Because I feel guilty."

Al paused. "It'd be easier to hate 'em?"

"God. So much easier."

"It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the whole scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve; and bad things are very easy to get."

Vivian squinted at Al. "That was deep."

"Confucius always sounds deep. I tattooed that on someone."

She held in a laugh, not wanting to jiggle her arm. "Thanks."

"Hey, I'm like a bartender, right? Therapy and pain."

Vivian winced. "Jesus, my therapist is gonna have a field day with me."

"Can't help you there," said Al, smiling. They fell quiet for a while. "Okay, so science mom? Golden ratio? I thought it was just a shout out to that TV show that was huge, with the clones?"

Oh right. " _Orphan Black_? That's what Cosima's tattoo was. The golden ratio."

"Tell me about it?"

He was trying to distract her.

It was welcome.

"It's a special number. Phi. Irregular. It has no ending, like pi. But this represents the balance of ratios. Pretty much everything relates back to it."

She nattered on about the math and the science and ratios for almost the entire session. Sometimes Al asked questions, but mostly he was quietly confirming that he was paying attention. He'd check that she was still okay, the pain wasn't too much, and ... Somehow it wasn't. They took breaks, but for all she was having a needle jammed into her and ink injected, it wasn't too painful. Not more than she could bear at least. After nearly three hours, he finished and held up a mirror.

The conch shell had been a simple outline before. Beautiful in its own right. But now, filled in with blue and white, it looked startling and majestic. It was similar to Cosima's tattoo, something she and Holly had admired over the years. At the same time, it stood all on its own.

"So?"

"Perfect." Vivian smiled at the image. It was four inches long now, with the blue and white fading into her own skin color, like it had erupted from within. The golden ratio. A glimpse at the possibility of perfect, a concept she never thought to have for herself. Maybe, maybe now she could.

She tipped him well. She had to for something that made her smile like that.

She was still smiling when she got home and found Matty and Christian in the living room, waiting for her.

"Sit down," said Matty, in his most serious tone.

"Why do I feel like this is an intervention?" She closed the door and sat on the couch.

"It is." Christian twisted his hands together. "What the hell's going on, Viv? You're acting weird. Jamie never comes over anymore. Shit, I don't even know if you two are talking, and what the fuck is on your arm?"

Ugh. She looked down at her arm, the bandage peeking out from under her shirt. "I..." She paused and looked at Matty, then Christian. "I fucked up."

Both men looked surprised. "Vivian," said Matty, gently. "I will tie you up and drop you off on Jamie's doorstep if that's what it takes to apologize."

"God, you didn't cheat on her, did you?" That was Christian.

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Jesus you're idiots."

"That's not a no."

"I didn't cheat on her." Both her friends looked relieved. Actually, Matty looked vindicated. "C... That girl who showed up at the station?"

He frowned. "Oh wait, Lindsey Stone?"

"She's my ... She's my biological cousin."

The heaviness of the words swallowed anything her friends were going to say. Finally Matty exhaled. "Which... Um. Shit, I don't even know. I thought they were all dead."

Vivian cracked her knuckles. They each knew part of the story. Christian knew that her birth parents were dead. Matty knew about the grandparents. "I thought they were too. My ... My father, my birth father, killed my family. I wasn't home."

There.

Two more people. Two people who loved her, she knew that. But two more people out there who knew some of the story.

Matty looked like he wanted to hug her. Christian just nodded a little, bewildered. And then Matt spoke. "Then... The grandparents?"

Vivian nodded. To Christian, she explained. "My ... Um. Paternal grandparents died when I was fourteen. They didn't get custody because, apparently, they used to beat the shit out of my father and my aunt." She knew she said the last word a little grimly. It was all she had. "Who I didn't know existed until last month."

"Jesus... And that's Lindsey's mom..." Christian swore and ran his hands through his hair.

Matty was more pragmatic. "So you've been acting like a fucking moron because your bio fam showed up and fucked your brain up?"

"Well. That and they only showed up because they wanted my bone marrow," said Vivian, grumbling.

While Christian gaped, Matty glared. "So you got drunk and tattooed?" Obviously he'd figured out the bandage,

When he put it that way... Vivian cleared her throat. "Yes."

Matty rubbed his face with both hands. "I love you to bits, Vivian, but you are fucking stupid."

"I have been painfully reminded of that."

"That's why you were at the hospital," said Christian, suddenly understanding it all. "Fuck that's a… Yeah, okay. You're not a match?"

Matty eyed the cop. "How do you know she even got tested?"

"Have you met her parents?" Christian waved a hand in Vivian's direction. "She's _Holly_ _'_ _s_ kid. Of course she got tested."

"Hang on… Why didn't your moms tell you? Matty swiveled to eye Vivian.

"They weren't allowed to." She leaned back in the couch. "It's a whole thing."

Both her friends mulled that over for a while. "I get it," said Christian at length. "My dad can't talk to me."

This was news to Matty, who startled. "What?"

"My dad kidnapped me when I was a toddler," said Christian with a deep sigh. "He has a crazy restraining order."

Matty screwed up his face. "How the fuck is my mother being a crazy Christian who wants to de-gay me the sanest one!?"

Christian looked appalled. "What!?"

"Glad we're all on the fucked up page of life," muttered Vivian.

"No shit," said Matty. "Okay. What the hell did you do to Jamie?"

"Acted like a shithead. Picked a fight." Vivian sighed. "I know I need to talk to her. I don't know how to talk to her."

Matty exhaled loudly. "Okay. Does she know?"

"About... What?" Vivian tilted her head.

"Your family? Your parents—"

The feeling of anger that she'd kept tamped down all day snapped again. "Gail and Holly are my parents." Her reaction must have shocked her friend, as Matty's head jerked. "Sorry. Sorry but..."

"No, I get it," said Matty, softly. "I think ... I think I get why you're having a problem right now."

Christian nodded fiercely. "Totally. I mean, I hate that he's my dad. But.. Viv. They _are_."

"They're not," she repeated, more calmly. "They gave birth to me, but that's it. They haven't given me anything good, just fucked up time bombs." Christian opened his mouth and she cut him off. "And yes, she knows. She went to the hospital with me when I had the blood test."

Again, Christian tried to talk but this time Matty put a hand on his arm. "Then you tell her. You tell her they're fucking with your head, Viv, or you're gonna lose her. Okay?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Okay."

It wasn't like she didn't know that, but it wasn't that easy. It was never that easy.

Her friends though, they nodded. And she knew they knew.

And it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivian is starting to dig herself out of the hole. Now she just needs to get off her ass and talk to Jamie.
> 
> Also hey, you asked when and how she'd tell other people about things? There you are. It's a start.


	29. 03.08 - Might Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A death changes ... everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things might have been different, they might have been better or not. But all we know in the end is what was, and not what might have been.
> 
> This is a tear jerker chapter. At least I think so. It was difficult to write, and very painful for me, but then again, I'm still working through the feelings of loss.
> 
> Oh, casspurser? This is the one where you leave the review of "Godammit Chappy" and then come back later. I'll wait.

The phone rang.

A voice spoke.

The world stopped.

Maybe she should have felt that way when her father died, but the reality was that Gail still did not miss her father greatly. The event his death was merely an end to things awkward and a creation of new, more awkward feelings. But the agony that pummeled her just then, hearing the words over the phone, was harsh and unexpected and soul swallowing.

The world had changed.

 _Her_ world had changed.

It hadn't stopped though, not like this. The very bedrock of the ground beneath her was gone. Just ... It was gone. And she was shaken to the very core of her being. The world was no longer what it was. Gail was, in that split second, aware of a change in all things. A change in the fundamental structure of the universe.

At first she wondered why they'd called her, and then she knew there was no one else to call. This was the world Gail was build and bred for. Painful deaths were things Pecks could handle.

Gail ran on autopilot. She knew what had to be done next, no matter how much she didn't want to do it. She hung up her phone and stepped into the bullpen. Her bullpen. First was John. He would have to fill in for her. Next was Seabourn, telling him the bare bones and facts. Telling Andy was easier and harder. Andy wouldn't ask. Andy didn't press. She'd not faced this yet, but she knew she would.

Finding Vivian was easy. Andy knew right where she was, having assigned her close by for the last weeks the youngest Peck on the force would wear the uniform of a patrol officer. Not that Vivian knew her own future. That was for later. And it wasn't for today or Gail. It was Andy's duty. Later.

Telling her though, telling Vivian this would not be easy and Gail knew it. Still. She took Vivian aside and Gail explained what had happened. Her kid hadn't had a great year, and this was not about to make it any better. She watched the general smile her daughter wore, tempered and restrained by recent events, fade more.

As so often happened, Vivian surprised her. Her daughter looked shocked for a moment, then saddened and resigned. This was, perhaps, expected for the younger Peck. Maybe it was like how Gail expected the universe to shit on her, so did Vivian. Right away, Vivian offered to drive Gail, consolidating cars. However she felt pain, the younger Peck internalized it first and would express it later. Somewhat like Holly. Gail nodded and they drove in silence.

She wasn't ready to really process it either. She didn't have a choice. The world stopped and changed and felt horrible. She wasn't ready for this. She'd never be ready for this. Of all the ways this could have happened, of all the times, this was going to gut them all.

This death was different.

This death uprooted their souls.

Vivian shoved her hands deep in her pockets as she followed Gail up to Holly's office. "What are you going to tell her?"

"There's a choice?"

"I guess. No. There isn't." The younger woman sighed. "Maybe in how?"

"Huh. How'd she tell you about my father?" Gail had been the one to tell Vivian about her biological grandparents. But Bill, her own father, she'd left up to her wife.

Vivian snorted. "Badly. She picked me up from school and told me Bill was dead and you and Steve were being very Peck about it."

Gail laughed. "God that sounds like her. Remember when she tried to tell you about sex?"

"I try not to." But Vivian smiled a little. "Two women can't get accidentally pregnant."

Rolling her eyes, Gail backhanded Vivian's shoulder. "Ass."

"I'm the ass you made me."

They shared a smile. "She'll know, y'know. As soon as I walk in. She'll know."

Morose, Vivian nodded and was silent as they walked up to Holly's office door. It was open.

"Hey, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Holly grinned ear to ear to see them, putting down her drink and getting up from her desk. "You guys finish early?"

"Holly..." Gail swallowed and Vivian closed the office door. "It's... Brian called."

Holly looked perplexed. "Dad? He's not trying to surprise us again, is he?"

Gail shook her head. "No." She swallowed. God, Gail didn't want to have this conversation. "It's about Lily."

And Holly froze. The woman was so goddamned smart. It was one of the things that Gail loved so much about Holly. That quick, witty, mind. Holly could process Gail's words, her face, Vivian's face, the air around them, all in a heartbeat. And Holly knew. As Gail met her eyes, brown to blue, it was unavoidable. Holly knew _exactly_ why they were there.

That brain was part of why Gail loved her so much. Holly's big brain, her bigger heart, her enormous smile ... The smile tilted down. That beautiful, quirky, smile canted itself into a frown. No. Not a frown so much as a shock and emotion was wiped from Holly's face. A hand crept to cover her mouth and Holly spoke, her voice suddenly a whisper. "How?"

"In her sleep," Gail said softly. She walked up to Holly and started to reach out.

Her wife all but fell into her arms, already crying. The sound was heart breaking. It wasn't verbal at all. Holly just sobbed. Gail held her close, leading her to the couch. While she held Holly, stroking her hair and rocking her, Vivian packed up Holly's desk. Then she sat on Holly's other side and put a hand on her mother's back.

Because Lily Stewart was dead and the world was a horrible, terrible, agonizing place.

"When?" Holly's voice was a raw picture of pain, her face pressed into Gail's shoulder.

"Just now. She was napping on the deck by her garden." Gail rested her cheek on Holly's head. "Brian went to wake her up for lunch and ... She was gone."

There was a hitch in Holly's voice. "God, Daddy..."

"We can fly out tonight."

Holly shook her head. "No. Morning. We can... We can take the first flight out."

"Holly, if it's about money, this is what savings are for."

Again, Holly shook her head. "Gail. Tomorrow. Please."

When Gail opened her mouth, Vivian spoke up. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Gail capitulated.

Vivian leaned away. "Mom, I'm going to take your car home, okay?"

"Oh, Viv." Holly lifted her head to look at their daughter. She reached over and touched Vivian's face.

Vivian smiled sadly at Holly. "Keys?"

"In my desk. What about your bike?"

"I'll get it later. Mom, get three tickets, okay?"

Gail nodded. No point in arguing that one.

The night was painful, as expected. Holly was all but mute and Vivian hadn't been very chatty for a while. Gail let Vivian handle the feeding them part while she sorted plane tickets and travel plans. Then she offered to drop Vivian back at the station, to get her bike and go pack, but the kid took care of that by calling in a favor from Matty.

The boy— the _man_ made his condolences to Holly, hugging her and saying if they needed anything, he was there for them. Because to him, they were family. They'd picked him up when they had no reason save he was Vivian's friend, and offered to move the world for him. He was here, now, showing them in word and deed that he understood the lesson. They'd shown him how to love and care too.

Lessons Gail felt she had learned, really truly learned, from Lily.

In a way, Gail wished Vivian had spent the night, just for the emotional backup. But it would be so unfair if her to put that kind of pressure on her child, no matter how mature that child could be. Besides, Vivian was struggling with her own demons too much lately. The revelation of her aunt could have gone better. They could have broken the law... But Gail had hoped, God she had hoped so much that it would never come up. That they would exist in a world far away and never bother them.

Instead, they'd thrown Vivian's sense of self asunder. Oh how Gail knew that one well. And then she'd had to watch as her daughter lashed out, frustrated and hurt and angry, at those close to her. At her girlfriend.

Unlike Gail at the same age, Vivian admitted that she wasn't sure if they'd broken up, and that they were leaving messages. Texts. Voice mails. And they knew each other's schedules so well, so Gail was pretty sure they were making sure to leave those messages when they knew the other was working. Phone tag on purpose. Vivian implied the conversations were not of depth or substance, just random.

At least they were sort of talking, which was one up on Holly right now.

Having a silent, pained, Holly was not on the top of her list of enjoyable things. Depression was one thing. Agony was another. She was accustomed to Holly's depression, as horrible as that was. She knew what was the part of Holly's brain that the doctor had not too much control over. She knew how to separate angry, frustrated, depressed Holly from the chemicals that made her irrational sometimes.

But in July, that was rare. The sunshine treated Holly well. Her skin absorbed vitamin D, her smile became wider, her laugh brighter. Holly blossomed in summer. As much of a vampire as Gail was, the blonde would dutifully cover up every inch and put on a hat and brave the evil day star just to be with Holly and see that smile. Not that Gail would ever admit that to anyone. But yes, Gail loved seeing Holly happy.

The happy, summer Holly had all been washed away that afternoon. The more Holly had cried, the quieter she got, until finally, now, she just sat in bed, watching Gail finish packing. Hugging her knees. The crying had come and gone for what felt like hours, and Gail felt a little guilty for being relieved it had stopped.

Gail didn't know what to say. She put their suitcases by the door and sat next to her wife. Still silent, Holly reached over to take Gail's hand. Gail cleared her throat. "I'm going to shower, sweetheart. Okay?"

Holly nodded. "Thank you."

With a nod that felt stupid, Gail showered and slid into the bed. Holly lay on her side, facing away from Gail. As soon as Gail was settled, Holly scooted back until she was nestled in as the little spoon. It was clear Holly wasn't sleeping, just lying there quietly. Gail wondered if Holly just felt empty, like Gail had after Jerry died. Probably not the same way, but similar.

The memories of how she felt about Jerry were, to put it mildly, fucked up. It was a jumble of memories and nightmares and flashes of confusing pain and terror. By the time Gail had just started to process that Jerry was really dead, Traci was sitting on her hospital bed in need of the one person who could look and see Traci, not some sad little creature.

Oh. Yeah. Gail got that in one. The guilt though. That had taken her years to work through. Sometimes she didn't think she had at all. That it was all still stupid and her fault and... It wasn't. None of it was her fault. Except not looking in the peep hole. Rubbing the back of Holly's hand, Gail wondered if Holly had finally told Vivian that was why the cop was so adamant about everyone checking the door before opening. She vaguely remembered a few arguments with pre-teen Vivian about it, and then at thirteen or so they'd just stopped.

That was a later question. Today, though, today was a death that was no ones fault.

Things like this were expected but not expected. They all knew cops could die at work. And they all knew their parents would die first. After all, Bill was dead. It was the role of a parent to precede a child into death. But not Lily. Not suddenly like this. Lily, the wonderful woman who'd gotten on a plane to take care of Gail, not Holly, and a soon to be adopted child. Lily, who had that big brain and heart, just like her daughter. Lily who sent them admonishments about the garden, who fought with her daughter over sports betting pools, and who really could not swim worth a penny.

Gail smiled a little at that memory. They'd gone fishing, after the stupid Ebola thing, and Lily had been goaded into swimming. As the resident accomplished swimmer, Gail had already been in the water helping Vivian learn. As a born inner city child, it was understandable that Vivian didn't know. But as a dedicated outdoor enthusiast, hiker, camper, and gardener, it was abhorrent and hilarious that Lily couldn't swim.

Then Holly spoke, startling Gail out of her thoughts.

"She was so mad when I went into pathology," said Holly quietly. "That was our first real fight. Only real fight."

Gail realized she'd never actually heard the story. She'd heard of it, it was talked around by the Stewarts, but never out loud. "That's when you sold the motorcycle."

"Yeah. She cried. She didn't want me to suffer with the dead all day." Holly hand twisted, found Gail's fingers and squeezed them softly.

"Says someone who was never a people doctor."

Her wife puffed a small laugh. "I know, right?" She laced her fingers with Gail's, holding on.

Gail waited the silence out a little and then offered a comment. "That's the worst part of my job. People are morons."

"They are such shits," said Holly, agreeing.

There was a longer silence. "Lily wasn't, though."

In her arms, Holly shook a little. A near cry shake. "No. She wasn't." Holly squeezed her hand again. "Gay was not in Mom's handbook."

Gail smiled softly. "Did she really catch you with your hand up a girl's shirt?"

This time Holly shook from a laugh. "No. Boobs over shirt."

"But she got over it pretty fast."

"She didn't," Holly said in a small admission. "I was mad at her for years." She shifted around and looked at Gail. "You know the whole mess with college was because I was gay."

While she had not known absolutely, Gail had been pretty sure. "I'd guessed."

Nodding, Holly pressed her head into Gail's chest. "The motorcycle didn't help."

"I can't see how it would. Flannel, bikes, hanging out with Lisa..."

Her wife snorted an unfunny laugh. "I _was_ pretty hot."

"News flash. You're _still_ pretty hot. But I gotta say, I would have figured out the gay a lot sooner if I'd met college Holly."

Holly laughed again. "I'm a bit too old for that."

"Hey, I could have started a year or two early." Gail almost had, actually. It was realizing that graduation got her closer to the academy, a prospect that had horrified her as a youth, that caused her to intentionally drag her feet.

"I would have been your TA as a freshman."

"I never would have missed a class."

Holly muffled a laugh in Gail's chest. "I'm glad we met when we did."

"I could have used you about four or five years earlier," admitted Gail.

"Hm. No. I was an idiot back then." Holly sighed into Gail's neck. "I mean, I was picking arguments with Mom all the time, trying to just get her to understand it was what I wanted. I was gay. I wanted to be a pathologist. It was... You know, I wish we hadn't been fighting. That's ... That's five more years I could have had."

Gail stroked her wife's hair. "On the other hand, you had all the other years. And they meant more because of the time you fought."

"True." Holly huffed. And then. "This sucks."

"Understatement of the decade, babe." Gail lay back and settled Holly against her. It was comfortable and familiar. They had lain like that, like this, a hundred times. Gleaning serenity. Carving a slice of calm and quiet and safe in a world that did its damnedest to destroy all of that.

The safe was all Gail wanted to offer right then. How could she? Gail had been kidnapped and nearly killed. She'd been blown up, shot at, slushied, and a million other things. Holly had been exposed to Ebola (oh fine, Luongo River Fever). She'd nearly been hit by a car, shot at as well, and a hundred other smaller attacks. And Vivian... God. Their kid was going to run into buildings.

Gail closed her eyes and caressed Holly's hair and shoulders.

Life wasn't safe. It wasn't pretty or perfect. It was painful and traumatic and jarring. Everything always happened at once. Everything had to hurt.

"Not exactly a fairytale," said Holly at length, her voice sad.

"No. It's not."

"I love you, Gail. You know that, right?"

For a moment, Gail wanted to reply flippantly. Of course she knew. She'd seen Holly naked a hundred times that year alone. She had the woman in her arms. But that wasn't what Holly needed to hear just then. Gail tilted her head and pressed her lips to Holly's forehead. "I know you love me. And so did Lily, sweetheart."

Holly sighed and her weight grew heavier and and heavier. Finally her breathing changed and her heart rate slowed and the doctor drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When Gail told her she was worried about Brian, Vivian filed it away and assumed her mother was overreacting a bit.

Gail had a marked tendency to assume the worst about things. She overreacted about a lot of things in life, and she always expected life to deal her the worst hand. Even though Gail was decades married to Holly now, she was certain life hated her especially. Early wounds left deep scars, as Lily once told her. Gail's left her with some pretty impressive scars and theories about life.

Most people wouldn't figure Gail for the superstitious sort, but she had a theory that death came in threes. And they all knew Grandpa had problems with fear and change and death. Frankly Vivian thought that Gail was the one who had the issues with death, not Brian. Hell, Gail once got it in her head that _Vivian_ might be suicidal, just because she kept everything so bottled up.

Well. Vivian did do that. The bottling things up bit. Not the suicidal part. The act of suicide had never seriously crossed her mind. Oh sure, from time to time she thought about death and how it might impact her friends and family. Everyone thought about it. What would the world be like after one had died.

The concept of actually killing herself had never once crossed her mind.

Death was so final. And unlike so many other people, she knew the answer. Vivian knew _exactly_ what happened after someone killed themselves. Their family was left alone, abandoned, wondering if they'd ever been loved at all. The survivors, the ones left behind as Gail said, were burned and scarred and left in tatters. Their world was ripped apart and left uncertain. It ripped out hearts.

Killing herself would leave her mothers in agony. God knew what it might do for Jamie. Vivian sighed. She needed to call Jamie. She dithered and, in the end, texted her that she wanted Jamie to be safe just as they boarded the plane that morning. With everything else going on, Jamie getting hurt felt it would shatter Vivian. And how could she possibly say anything about Lily's death? It would seem so opportunistic, using death to sort themselves out.

And yet... And yet Lily was reminding her that she had a person she liked a lot, and she didn't want to lose.

On the airplane, Holly asked to sit in the middle, and spent the flight with the arm separator up, leaning against Gail. Claustrophobic Gail took the aisle, as she almost always did, leaving too tall Vivian cramped and staring out the window, thinking about death, life, family, and how the hell she was going to talk to her girlfriend. If they were still girlfriends.

She thought they were. She hoped they were. She needed to talk to Jamie. She needed to tell Jamie that she was sorry, that she'd been angry and lashed out and was stupid and she was sorry.

Wasn't that just fucking perfect. Now that she was ready and able to figure out what she should say, her family was in uproars and she couldn't ask her Moms for help. Was that adulting? It sucked, if so.

When they got to Vancouver, Gail sorted out the car while Vivian sat with Holly outside and tried to suck in some sunshine and fresh air.

"I wonder if Dad will stay out here."

Vivian startled. Holly had been so quiet, she'd not expected her mother to say anything. "Didn't he want to move back here?"

"He did, but only when Mom got a job." Holly smiled. "I used to love coming out here for Christmas as a kid. My grandparents, Dad's parents, lived closer to the water, in this wonderful place with a massive lawn. No guest rooms, so we'd stay a hotel. I thought it was awesome."

"Yeah? Maybe we should go to the ocean."

"Maybe, if we have time."

"Would Grandad like it?"

Holly tilted her head. "He would. I think."

Her mother lapsed back into silence as they drove out to the house. Brian was waiting for them on the front porch and when Vivian saw her grandfather, she knew suddenly why Gail had been worried. God, how she knew that face. She'd seen it in the mirror as a child. A ghost of a man. A man who wouldn't sleep in his own bedroom because it had been theirs. So after her parents went to bed in the guest house, Vivian suggested her grandfather stay in the guest room and she'd take the couch.

The big house had two offices, neither of which had a bed or couch, and one guest room. Sometimes, some holidays were spent with Vivian in the guest house with her mothers, but sometimes she liked to stay in the main house with her grandparents. Knowing her mothers were a text and a sprint away seemed to make it alright.

This time, it was her evil ploy. Vivian knew Brian would get up in the night and come downstairs. When he did, she flicked the light on.

"Go back to sleep, Viv," said the weary man.

Before this, Vivian had never thought of Brian as old. But Holly was just 59 as of last week. And Brian had been 30 when she'd been born. He was almost 90. Lily had been 86. Immediately she remembered Elaine was 88. Jesus, they were old. Fragile. Elaine had looked similarly weary and thin in the hospital the year before.

"Want some tea?" She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Brian hesitated. "Cocoa."

"Okay," said Vivian, smiling.

A bit later, they sat on the front porch in the sultry June heat. Sipping cocoa. "You never spent a lot of time here in summer. Without your Moms."

"Sorry."

Brian shook his head. "I never had that fantasy of the grandkids over for a summer."

"Did grandma?"

"No. Not after ... " He trailed off and laughed. "Not after your mother declared she was never marrying or having a baby."

Vivian grinned. "Technically she didn't have a baby."

"Technically she did not, that is true. That is true." Brian sighed and shook his head. "You? Gonna get married and have kids?"

"Maybe," she replied and looked down. "I'm kinda having a fight with my girlfriend right now."

"Yeah? Wanna tell your old granddad about it?"

She looked at the man who adored her and her mothers. The number of men she trusted, _really_ trusted, were few. Oliver, of course. Steve sometimes. John more than Steve, if she was being really honest. And Brian. The grandfather who gave her space and never tried to be a parent, but was there whenever she asked.

And here he was, coping with the loss of the love of his life, offering to be an ear.

"You just want me to distract you," said Vivian thoughtfully.

"Yes. But ... I want something I can fix. Maybe."

Vivian could get behind that. "Well." She leaned back in the deck chair. "My aunt showed up."

There was a heavy pause. "Your _what_?"

"Yeah..." Vivian sighed and explained what had happened. She left nothing out, not even the part where she'd been angry and shouted a bit at Holly. Not really at Holly but still. And she told him about how she'd been a fucking brat to Jamie as well.

"Ah hell, honey." The man growled. "What a messed up thing that is."

"Yeah," said Vivian, mumbling. "And ... And the stupid thing is I'm not mad at her, but ... I don't know what I'm supposed to say." She twisted her fingers together. "Calling her mom that was kinda mean."

"A bit, yeah."

"Yeah."

Brian stared out over the long driveway. "I'm going to sell this place. Move back into town."

"I ... I guessed you would."

"You're smart."

"If I'm smart, how come I tank my personal life?"

"Because you're an idiot too."

Vivian blinked and then snickered. So did Brian. Then he laughed and she laughed and a weight lifted off her chest. It had been a while since she just laughed. "I **am** an idiot."

"So am I, you know. We bought this place for Lily. She loved it. The woods, the garden, the space..." He shook his head. "I hated it at first. But it grew on me." Brian paused. "See, we didn't always get along, me and Lily. Part of it was me, part of it was her. I don't know if Holly remembers, but when she was a girl, she spent a summer with Lily's sister because we were fighting so much we were thinking about divorce."

The story was news to Vivian. Wide eyed, she stared at her grandfather. "Divorce... But you didn't."

"Yep. We separated for a month." He sighed loudly. "It was the worst month of my life. I love her, Vivian. She ... She was my dream girl, sometimes, but she was funny and smart and beautiful and ... She was everything."

"Sometimes?"

Brian smiled. "No matter how much you love someone, Viv, you don't love everything about them. The parts of Lily I love... Loved. No. The parts of her I love outweighed the ones that annoyed me, and the very few I hated. She was a drunkard's dream come to life for me. I knew I couldn't live without her after that summer."

Vivian chewed her bottom lip. How terribly foreboding. Maybe Gail was right. "What'd you do?"

"I went home. I told her I was an idiot and I'd go get help for being so screwed up. But I wanted... I'd like her to help me."

"And she did," said Vivian, understanding.

"She did. And we kept trying. Because being with someone you care about, Viv. It's not easy. It's messy. Imperfect. But we try because we know life without them sucks. And we want them with us to make it all a little better. Even if we fight."

"Not exactly a fairytale," Vivian said, softly.

"Hah. That was Holly."

Bewildered, Vivian nodded. "Yeah. She says it to Gail sometimes. I think it was around the whole hair massacre time."

"Well." Brian looked over the lawn and trees. "I guess she does remember the fighting then. That was something I said to Lily. We weren't a fairytale, but we were still beautiful."

Vivian frowned and looked at her empty mug. Then, in a small voice, she asked, "What if she doesn't feel the same way?" She knew he'd know she meant Jamie.

Brian smiled. "Having not yet met this girl, I can't say if she does. But either way, you should try. Ask. Tell her."

Vivian sighed and slumped. Slouched. "I don't know _how_."

"Start with something simple. Like ... I'm sorry."

She looked at her grandfather. He made it sound so simple and easy. She sighed and nodded. "I'm trying," she said quietly.

Brian hesitated and then put a hand on her knee. "If you were Holls, I'd give you a big hug and tell you I love you. But you, you've always been a bit more Gail."

"Is that good or bad?'

"Neither. It's just you, Viv." He squeezed her knee. "I'm glad they adopted you. And I do love you."

She tilted her had to study her grandfather. "Thank you," she said very quietly. What Vivian wanted to say was she loved him too. Because that was what he said. She wanted to tell Brian that he was why she knew it was okay to trust some men. Him and Oliver and Steve and John. And Nick and Dov and Chris. All the people her mothers had brought to her were good.

But so was Lily. Vivian would always remember Lily arriving like a bolt of lightning. Showing up at the door when Gail was asleep, exhausted on the couch. Even then, Vivian understood why Gail had been so drained when Holly was sick. Because Holly might have died and if she had, Gail would have looked like Brian did now. And then Lily, like an angel from heaven, showed up and hugged Gail. Actually hugged her. And Vivian realized that's how things were supposed to be.

People were loved and wanted and cherished. Family was supposed to take care of each other.

It didn't matter that Gail wasn't her daughter, not to Lily. It mattered that Gail loved her daughter, and that her daughter loved Gail and Vivian. That made them family no matter what.

And now Lily was gone. There was no one to swoop in and rescue them.

Vivian put her cocoa mug down and scooted to the end of her chair to hug her grandfather.

"I love you too, Grandpa."

* * *

The flight home was strange. And the strangest part wasn't the fact that Gail had a dead woman in her carry-on luggage.

Brian flew with them, taking the window seat and watching Canada float past them. Holly sat middle with Gail on the end, their armrests flipped up so they could hold hands most of the flight. Vivian, long legs and all, had the opposite aisle, though she looked relieved. Gail made a note to figure out better airplane seating, but not today. Today everyone was quiet.

It was a strange world. Gail hated being in a plane on the best days, and this was not the best. At least Holly just wanted to lean against her. If Gail had been pressed to talk to Holly or Brian, she might have cried. On the other hand, Vivian had to get up multiple times to let her inner seat mate get out.

At the fourth time, Vivian signed a question, asking if Holly had some sleeping pills she could slip the guy. Gail smirked. That was her kid alright.

The flight took an interminable amount of time. It was just long. Everyone was tired and cranky and hungry. Vivian had the most brain of them all, driving them back to the house and ordering dinner. Both Brian and Holly were near zombies, quiet and uncommunicative until calling it an early night.

"Are they going to be okay?" Vivian gnawed her lower lip as she cleaned up.

"Eventually they'll be whatever the new okay is," said Gail.

Her daughter sighed. "It's fucking creepy having Lily in a vase on the coffee table. You get that, right?"

Gail smiled. "It is. But Holly and I want to be green composted too, Monkey."

"And don't think that isn't weird. Making me bury your ass up at the cottage. Are you _sure_ I can't dump some on Fifteen?"

"I'm sure." But it was hard not to laugh. "I want to be a tree. I think being a tree, you can sit under it and remember me and Holly for as long as you want, or not. And maybe future Pecks can play under it."

Vivian twisted her face into a smirk. "You are officially weird, Mom."

"Holly wants grandkids. You get that, right?"

"Oh yeah, her veiled hints have been getting broader." Vivian frowned.

"Have you told Jamie what's up?"

The younger Peck shook her head. "She never met Lily anyway."

Gail smacked the back of Vivian's head lightly. "Dumb ass. That's not the point." But she didn't push it. One family drama at a time. "Are you feeling okay? With Lily and all."

Her daughter rubbed the back of her head. "No. I miss her already. A lot. It's... She was how I figured out what family love was supposed to be. I mean, with people you add on later."

"Oh?" Gail tried not to look too surprised.

"Yeah. When she showed up, when Holly was sick? And she said no matter what, you were her family too?"

Amazing. Vivian had been six at the time, and Gail was quite sure she'd missed much of the nuances of the conversations. Apparently not. "It was true, you know."

"I know."

"She was a great person." Gail sighed. "Your mom is awesome mostly because of her."

Vivian smiled. "Grandpa's okay."

"For a guy?" Gail teased a little. Vivian had once said Brian was okay for a man. She'd been about nine at the time, and right around the point when she starting calling him grandpa.

"For anyone." Vivian was serious. "He's a good guy." Then she added, "I get why you're worried about him."

Gail sighed. "I worried it was just me seeing things."

"No," said Vivian. "He's just ... I dunno. It's like Grandma was holding him together. I kinda wish he lived here."

"He won't. He likes Vancouver." Gail leaned on the counter. "We could move there, I guess." Vivian snorted. Loudly. "What? We could!"

"You will never leave Toronto, Mom. And Mom will never leave you."

She had a point, though Gail decided not to point out that if she died first, which given her job was a strong possibility, Holly might move. "What about you?"

Vivian looked around. "As long as you're here, I'm here. I think... If you were gonna leave it would have been if Mom had gone to San Francisco, and Elaine was still evil."

"Hah!" It was impossible not to laugh. "I don't miss those days. But you're avoiding the question."

"Not... Not right now. I kinda want to think..." She trailed off and flushed. "I kinda want to think there's a chance. With me and Jamie."

Ah. "Yeah. I know that. Do me a favor though? If you think you do want to move, don't make your big gesture with Jamie be 'I'm moving and I want you to come with me.' Not your mom's smoothest move."

Vivian chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Come on. Let's get some sleep. Unless you're going home..."

"Tonight, yeah. Tomorrow I'll stay over if that's okay."

"Sunrise service? Probably smart." Gail squeezed Vivian's shoulder. "See you tomorrow. Bring bagels."

"You're not going to make them? I feel robbed." But Vivian smiled as she headed out and back to her apartment.

Gail stared at the vase on her coffee table. "Well hell, Lily. Why you? Huh." Glancing up at the stairs, and making sure her wife and father-in-law were asleep, Gail sat and sighed. "So I talk to dead people. I don't know if Holly told you about it. But Jerry. Well."

At Gail's request, Holly had told Lily, about the nightmares and the whole Perik thing. When he'd died, there had been a time when the dreams got worse and then better. But she didn't know if Holly had explained Gail still went to talk to Jerry sometimes. Some years she just sat with him. Some years she told him off. Once she left him a box of Timbits.

When Vivian was ten or so, she'd asked if it helped. So the next year, Gail brought Vivian and introduced her to the man who saved Gail's life. And confessed it didn't always help. But it did sometimes. And sometimes was enough.

Gail looked at the ceiling, and then the vase again.

"I know you're not there. That's not how this works. Your energy is ... Somewhere else. I don't know. Your daughter's the scientist. But... Thank you. For Holly. And you, and Brian. Thank you. It's selfish, but I wouldn't have made it without her. I know it. And God, if she'd died that year, I don't know what... But you helped me keep it together. You helped me and my Mom. You made me better too."

With a frustrated exhale, Gail picked up the vase. "Thank you. For everything. I'll try to make sure we do what you want. But I gotta say. You're dead. So if Holly changes her mind and wants you to live on our mantle, that's what's gonna happen. She's alive. And I have to take care of her. That's my job as a wife, right? As a human. Take care of the people I love."

She paused. "But I loved you too. You're my family too."

Gail carefully put the vase back down. "And the kid is right. It's fucking creepy having you in the house, you nerd."

She was sure Lily would have cracked up.

The next day was a whirlwind of stupid little things to do. They'd made as many arrangements as possible from Vancouver, which meant a few hassles of permits for the dispersal of ashes. While, years ago, Gail had just dumped the ashes of Ernie (not his real name) out into the lake, this was different. This was someone her wife had loved. This was someone she had loved too.

Elaine and her millions of connections had been helpful as well, making sure that every needed permit was acquired quickly and cleanly. The way Gail saw it, if they didn't use the Peck name for good, people would forget it had power. Or something like that. When she came by with the papers, notarized and signed, Brian asked that Elaine come to the funeral. If she wanted.

The funeral was bound to be small. Lily had outlived her two sisters (one being significantly older and the other died in an accident, both when Vivian was young), and most of Holly's cousins had long since left Toronto. It was probably just going to be Holly, Gail, Brian, and Vivian. And now Elaine, who barely hesitated before saying if Brian was sure, then she would. Much to Gail's surprise, her mother confessed to regularly calling Lily and chatting about everything. They kept each other up to date on the machinations of their daughters, making sure the other knew how the wind lay.

Not long before dawn on the third day, Elaine met them at the conservatory. There had been little sleep the night before for any of them. Holly had lain in bed, silent and still, eyes wide open. Gail had cat napped, more or less, and felt pretty useless. When Bill had died, it felt like Holly had managed to expertly keep Gail together.

Then again, Gail's love for Bill had been extremely different from Holly's for Lily. Of course she'd loved her father. Asshole though he was, Bill was her father and there were reasons to love parents, even if there were times Gail hated him too. She hated the ticking time bombs of emotional damage he'd dumped on her, and the overall mistreatment of her and her brother and her mother.

But he'd taught her how to be a cop. Learning to drive, to shoot, and to protect herself all came from Bill. The reason she'd held the top score on the driving course for a decade had been from him. Being a cop was all he could teach her and all he had taught her. Serve. Protect. Even if people hated the uniform, the person they didn't know, and the government they represented, a cop had a duty they'd sworn to do.

Holly's relationship with Lily was vastly different. Thank god. But it meant while Gail's emotional trauma from Bill dying was mostly confusing and frustrating and ... Well. It was a cluster fuck. Holly was just left feeling adrift. Empty. Sad.

Depressed.

Both her and Brian.

The waterworks happened as the sun rose. They all watched the summer dawn broke and the sky turned beautiful shades of purple and rose and yellow, easing open the sky from the dark of night into the safe light of day. A few, slightly confused, conservatory employees watched as they stood in silence and waited.

Crying.

All of them. Even Vivian, who generally did not succumb to tears unless frustrated beyond belief. Or angry. Sad tears weren't her thing. As they cried, Brian finally spoke.

"Lily. Lily would call us blubbering idiots."

Holly snorted a thick, wet, laugh. "Black is not your color, Dad."

"Gail looks good in it." Brian blew his nose and looked at Gail. "How do you do that, Gail?"

"It's a gift," said Gail.

Taking her hand, Holly smiled. "She looks good in almost any color. She knows how to dress herself."

"Yeah, like a vampire," Vivian remarked, dryly.

"A joke everyone on the planet had made," countered Gail.

"Including Lily." Brian nodded. "She said you were gorgeous, witty, smart, made bad jokes, and were a vampire."

"It's the Peck curse," said Gail. "Hundreds of years ago, an ancient ancestor of mine saved a gypsy who cursed him with eternal life and charged him to protect the city."

Brian cracked up. "What? That doesn't even make sense!"

Even Elaine laughed though. "It's true! I signed a contract in blood when I married in."

Holly wiped the tears of laughter from her face. "Me too, sorry Daddy."

Faux offended, Brian scowled. "I thought you were a vagitarian, not a vampire!"

Everyone laughed. Oh god, it felt so good to laugh like that, to just make the terrible jokes they'd always made with Lily there. To tease and harass each other in the ways that said they loved each other.

"That was a bad one, Brian." Gail smiled and took Holly's hand. "Real bad."

"Sorry." He sighed and hefted the urn. "Trying to do bad mom and dad jokes here, since Elaine ..."

"Oh I was a terrible mother," said Elaine, firmly. "I'm shocked my children talk to me." But her smile softened. "Lily helped me with that."

Holly leaned into Gail's shoulder. Then she looked over at Vivian and held a hand out. When Vivian took the hand, Holly tugged her in for a hug. "We'll be pretty wrecked when you die, Elaine."

"We already went over this. I'm a vampire, never dying." Elaine gently touched Holly and Gail's shoulders. "Lily was an amazing, wonderful, brilliant, woman, Holly. I'm so very glad I got to know her."

Vivian sighed. "Me too. I'm glad she was my family."

"Me three," said Gail. "Thank you for marrying me, Lunchbox."

"I'd do it again," said Holly softly.

"So would I," said Brian. "You want to do this with me, Holls?"

"No." But Holly kissed Gail's cheek and let go, taking the lid off Lily's urn.

They'd left half of the ashes back in Vancouver, some spread over the garden and the house, the rest waiting for Brian to decide what to do with. Today, though, they were doing exactly what Lily wanted.

Brian pulled a creased piece of paper out of his pocket. "When we were dating, way before Holls was our accident, Lily's grandfather died. She went to his funeral and wrote me a letter. I kept it." He cleared his throat. "Dear Brian. I'm at a funeral and I hate it so I'm going to make this simple. Don't bury me. Don't leave me in the earth in a cemetery. This place is so sad, so morbid, so empty. It's filled with death and memories and dead flowers. I can't make people I love do this, to think all that's left of me is in one place. We are in all things." Brian paused, hiccuped, and his voice got tight. "We are in all things. You are in me, and I'm in you now. When I said... When I said..."

Gail closed her eyes. She hated that people did this. They read things that were moving and meaningful and heartwarming. And they cried.

She took a deep breath and, before Holly could, reached over for the letter. If she could do this for Traci, who just needed a friend, then she could do this for the man who was her family. The woman who was her family and gave her the most precious thing in Gail's life. Lily had given her so much more than just her life. Lily had given her the ability to live.

And Gail read.

"When I said I thought I loved you, I was wrong. I do love you, and I was wrong to tell you not to come here. I love the broken parts of you, Brian. The strength to keep going. I love you. All of you. And I'm not afraid of us anymore. But I'm afraid to ask this, so I'm writing this. In a hundred years, when we're old and grey and maybe we have our own children and our grandchildren, and I die, don't bury me. Don't leave me in one place, because as long as you live and as long as our children live, and as long as someone out there remembers us, we are in all things and all places. For as long as I live, I want to live with you to enjoy the days we have. So spread my ashes in the places we lived and loved. Keep some if you want. If you die first, I'll have us spread together. Because we are in all things in the universe, and we are together. We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon. And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden. Love, Lily."

The conservatory was uncomfortably silent. "Wow," said Vivian at length. "Grandma was really romantic."

"Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young," Gail said, thoughtfully. "Its from Woodstock."

"Joni Mitchell, and the song is called Woodstock," Elaine corrected. "She couldn't go, because her agent said it would be better to go on some talk show. Nash was her boyfriend."

Vivian looked amused. "She quoted a folk song?"

"Just wait. Funerals are going to quote Beiber." Gail muttered darkly, fearing for the future.

"Backstreet Boys," suggested Holly.

"One Direction," Brian said, grinning. He reached into the jar and tossed some ashes into the garden. "Be stardust, Lily."

Holly sighed and did the same. "Be everywhere, Mom."

"Oh my god," muttered Gail. "You're going to put her in our gardens, aren't you?"

"Don't be an ass, Mom," said Vivian. "And yes we are."

"Impossible." Holly dusted her hands off. "Gail's _always_ an ass. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

They made their way back home, stopping for a quiet breakfast out at Gail's insistence. After all, she had to eat, so everyone else probably ought to as well.

"I have a headache," muttered Holly, leaning into Brian as they got to the living room.

"Why don't you lie down, baby girl?" Brian looked exhausted himself. He kissed her forehead. "Gail can babysit me."

Gail snorted. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment."

"I'll keep an eye on them both," said Vivian in an overtly tolerant tone.

"Thank you." Holly hugged her father and then got up to give Vivian's shoulder a squeeze. She didn't ask Gail to walk her upstairs, but the slight head tilt, the eyebrows, told Gail what she needed to know.

She took Holly's hand and walked with her upstairs. Holly was quiet as they got to the bedroom. "I'm putting on jeans," said Gail.

"Hang up your shirt, then."

"Would your dad care if I walk around in just a bra?"

"No, probably not." Holly usually would tease her or make a comment about something. Not so much at the moment.

Gail sighed. "Hey, Lunchbox?" When Holly made a noise, she went on. "Come here?"

Holly looked over, surprised, and didn't move. "Gail, I'm okay."

"Liar," said Gail, and she held her arms out before dropping them by her side. "You're all up in that big brain of yours, sweetheart."

Her wife sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "I don't know... I feel like... All the feels got sucked out of me."

Gail hesitated and sat beside her. "It's been a lot, really fast."

Holly nodded and sighed. "When Bill died, you said— I remember you telling us about how you didn't feel after Perik." Her voice caught.

Oh. Gail instinctively wrapped an arm around Holly's shoulders, pulling her in. "Holly, no. God, no. I get it." Her wife shook and Gail held on. "It's a different empty when they die. With Perik I was just a black hole. But Bill... I was so mad at him and disappointed and then I had this blank spot. I felt too much. I was overwhelmed."

"Oh!" Holly sounded relieved and returned Gail's hug finally. "How come you can explain that?" She sniffed a deep breath.

"Make you feel better by reading your mind and knowing what you're thinking?" Gail smiled. "Twenty years, baby." This time Holly poked her a little. Good. "Come on. Let's put on normal clothes and I'll read to you a bit until you fall asleep. Maybe your headache will go away."

Holly sighed loudly. "Well if that doesn't work, I'm for trying sex."

Gail smirked. "We can do that too."

But less than half an hour later, Holly was sound asleep with a frown. Her head had to be killing her after not sleeping and the stress and pain. Gail stayed a while longer, stroking Holly's back until the woman fell into a deeper sleep and the frown faded into the calmness of her normal state.

As she came back downstairs, Gail realized the house was quieter. Had the others gone for a nap as well? She couldn't blame anyone, and decided to get something else to eat. All jokes about her being a garbage pail aside, Gail's metabolism was still a little insane. If she didn't eat, she got headaches. Holly called them metabolic headaches, amusingly enough.

Just as Gail walked into the kitchen, she saw the porch door swing closed and heard the pop of one of the fancy fizzy sodas.

"Thanks," said Brian, his quiet voice drifting through the open window. "None for you?"

"Eh," said Vivian. Her voice was slightly less quiet and empty, but just as tired.

"Ah." Brian laughed a little. "Holding up okay? You and Gail get all people overloaded."

"Oh, I'm okay. The airplane was worse."

"Sorry you got the aisle. How many times did that guy get up?"

"Five. Not that I was counting." Vivian used her most sarcastic, Peck, voice.

They both laughed. Gail smiled and hesitated before taking up a position by the fridge where she could hear better. Eavesdropping was hella rude, she knew, but it was her kid and her kind of father, and sometimes they talked differently to each other than to others.

"So. Have you called her yet?"

"Ugh, Grandpa, seriously?"

"The love of my life died, mini-Peck. I want to see my grandkid's."

"I don't know..." Vivian trailed off.

"You're 25. Of course you don't. I didn't. Hell, I wasn't sure until Holly was born."

"Oh wow, that is so heartening," snarled Vivian.

"Stop being Gail." Brian sounded amused. "I know that's hard, but she and Holls nearly fucked that up by not talking."

Petulantly, Vivian replied. "We are talking."

"Voicemail and texts are not talking."

"We reply to each other."

Brian sighed loudly. "You know why I hate that phone? You think it's enough. It's a connection. And it's not."

That had been an ongoing argument with Brian. For years. He hated the idea of phones for communication. Texting, little heartbeats on the watches. Brian hated all of it, and it drove Gail up a wall.

Apparently it bothered Vivian too. "That's pretty ableist, Grandpa."

"What?"

"Not everyone can say what they feel out loud. The words just dry up and it hurts to form them, God forbid say 'em. And it doesn't mean we don't feel them, or want to say them. We just... Can't. If Moms didn't have the watches and the phones for texting, just to say things, I don't think they'd be married."

That shut Brian up for a long minute. Finally, though, he spoke. "Do you think if Gail just replied to the texts and calls, they would have been okay?"

It was Vivian's turn for thoughtful silence. "No. But maybe they would have figured it out sooner."

The man sighed. "Well now. That's a thought."

Vivian sighed as well. "I can talk to Jamie about stuff, though."

"Like?"

"My birth parents."

Brian sounded impressed. "Really?" They were quiet again, and then Brian spoke. "You should go talk to her in person." He was firm. "Now."

"What... Now?"

"Yes, granddaughter. Go out. Go to her place. Tell her you're sorry. Tell her you don't want to break up. You want to try. And, fuck, call that thing Holly does. What is it?"

"You mean Parlay?"

"Yes! Call Parlay and stumble over your words. You said you talk to her. That you can. So you need to put on your big girl pants and do it. Because... life is too short, Vivian. You like this girl, and there is no reason to not tell her you like her. And if Lily was here, she'd take your phone and call Jamie herself."

There was a pause. "God, Grandma would."

"She would. Now go."

Of all things, Gail heard the sound of someone kissing someone's cheek. She quickly opened the fridge and was looking in as Vivian ran through, promising to be right back. Gail took a bottle of iced tea out and stepped onto the back porch with Brian, grinning. "Thank you," she told him, taking the empty seat.

"Welcome. It's a hell of a lot easier with her than Holls, tell you what."

Gail blinked. Easier? Could it be... "Wait a second... The ... There was a day Holly just showed up at the station and kissed me and said she wasn't over me."

Her father in law sighed. A deep sigh. "She takes so much looking after, that girl."

All these years later, a mystery was solved. Gail laughed helplessly, finally understanding that her wife had followed her dad's advice to get the girl back.

* * *

"Jesus, what am I doing." But she rang the bell and waited.

Thirty minutes ago Vivian had been sitting on the back porch with her grandfather. It had only taken a long as it had because she had to push her bike down the street, so as not to wake up Holly. And then she'd dithered at the end of the block like a moron.

A moron who took her grandfather's advice. So here she was. Vivian was still dressed for a funeral and at Jamie's apartment door, ready to apologize.

"I thought that was your bike." Ruby glared at her for a split second. "Woah, what happened?"

"Can... Would you ask Jamie if I could speak to her. For a minute."

"Seriously? You're doing some stupid dramatic grand gesture?" Ruby screwed her face up.

Vivian shook her head. "No. I just want to tell her I'm sorry I'm an idiot."

The nurse eyed her curiously. "Jamie is my best friend. She's like a sister. When I had to move out, she came with me. She's a good person and she gives people a lot of leeway."

Nodding, Vivian tried to be as serious as she could. "I know."

"She really likes you."

"I really like her." Vivian paused. She barely knew Ruby, when she thought about it. They hardly talked, and were somewhat antagonistic to each other. But they both liked Jamie. And Jamie was good people. "I don't make a lot of friends, I'm really bad at it. I don't... I don't trust people easily. But I trust her."

Ruby sighed. "You acted like an ass. You get that, right?" When Vivian nodded, Ruby went on. "Is this whole you looking like you were emotionally run over the reason why you were an ass?"

"No. It's just... It's not related." The laugh/snort snuck out. "Sorry. It's two different emotional roller coasters and they crashed head on a couple days ago."

Ruby stared at her. "Yeah. That's when Jamie said you went radio silent. Hang on."

Looking at her feet, Vivian wondered what she was going to say. Ruby seemed to be giving her the benefit of the doubt at least. She could hear them talking, and Ruby announcing she was going to stay nearby but not listen. Then footsteps. Then Jamie.

"Viv?" Jamie sounded tired and a little exasperated. "You look like leftover ass. Who died?"

It was probably just meant flippantly. Jamie was just as morbid as everyone else in Vivian's extended family. But Jamie probably didn't expect the reply. Vivian looked up and sighed. "Lily. Holly's mother."

Jamie's head snapped back, like she'd been slapped. "Oh god. Viv, I'm sorry—"

"Parlay," she blurted.

"What?" The other girl froze. "Parlay?"

"It's... It's this stupid thing Holly does. When she wants to say something and she can't phrase it nice or PC or anything. It's... It's so you can get out what you're thinking."

Jamie frowned a little. "Parlay. Okay..."

Taking a deep breath, Vivian hoped that Jamie would understand. "I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry I was a brat and yelled and then didn't call you back. I don't— I don't really know why I can't be rational about that stuff. Your parents. I mean, people are fucked up. I should know, right?" Vivian laughed, humorlessly. "I know I'm messed up, and all the shit with the bone marrow and ... And then Grandpa called and Mom..." She stopped. "Did ... Did I tell you Lily was a botanist? She did the first go of all the plants at home— Moms' house. And ... The first time I saw you, I thought about the digging we did in the garden. Your eyes. They're just ... This rush— lush, rich, deep, brown."

How could she explain all the thoughts whizzing in her head just then? That her world had imploded? Vivian wasn't a stranger to death. Her birth parents, her sister, her biological grandparents, her father's sister... Her aunt. Okay she wasn't dead yet, but she would be soon. Bill. And amid all that death, all she could concentrate on was how Jamie's beautiful brown eyes made her think of the soil and living things and nature.

Looking at her ... at Jamie, she could see the concern and confusion. Jamie didn't know what to say. Vivian barely did. And then she knew. She _did_ know.

"There was a couple," Vivian said slowly. "Constance and Walter. Mom— Gail met them years ago. When she was a uniformed officer. They were each other's plus ones. And they told Gail that life— Life is way too short to go at it alone. I don't want to. I ... I'm _sorry_. Please give me another chance."

Jamie stared at her. She looked up at Vivian, seemingly at a loss. Vivian felt her stomach drop. Peck's didn't get second chances. Hadn't Gail said that? Before Holly, no one gave Gail another try. The blonde believed everyone got one major fuck up, but no second chances. And here, now, Vivian felt how horrible she'd been, what she'd said, and worst of all, that she'd attacked the one person who was in her corner all the way. And now she'd lost it.

That was it.

They were done.

But Jamie grabbed her collar and pulled her down to kiss and then hugged her close. "You are the biggest idiot," she whispered. "Did you think we broke up?"

"Didn't we?" Vivian frowned, tentatively putting her hands on Jamie's arms.

"Jesus, you are so ... No." Jamie let go and slapped Vivian's shoulder. "Christ, we had a fight, Vivian! I love you, but you are such an idiot sometimes."

"Oh." Vivian knew she was confused, and rubbed her arm. However she also caught on to that important part of Jamie's sentence. "You love me?"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Of course you hear that... yes."

Huh. Vivian wasn't sure what to say, and managed a pathetic, "Oh."

With a piteous expression, Jamie asked, "Do you _want_ to be broken up?"

"No!" She knew that answer right away.

"Me neither." And Jamie hugged her tight again.

Vivian snuffled back a tear. She hadn't really cried much about Lily yet. She probably would later. It was hard to know how to process those emotions and feelings. Like Holly had said, she just felt a little empty. The world felt more empty without Lily around. "Okay..."

Nodding, her face pressed tight to Vivian's chest, Jamie repeated the word. "Okay."

They stood there for a while. Slowly Vivian felt grounded again. This was right. This was good. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't know if I love you, Jamie. I just know I was miserable without you. I missed you. And I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be so stupid next time," suggested Jamie.

"I'll try."

"I'm serious. Stop this running up a tree bullshit."

Vivian blinked and wanted to ask which of her mothers had mentioned that. Later. "I'll try," she repeated softly.

The firefighter sighed. "You are really crap at romance, Peck. You think my eyes look like dirt and you don't know if you love me?" Jamie pinched her side a little. "You are so fucking lucky I speak Vivian."

"You do?"

"I do." Jamie's hold lessened a little. "You're trying to say that my eyes make you think of the beautiful things in nature, and spring and growth. And you don't know if you love me because your moms sent an impossible standard and your birth parents were fucked up."

Vivian exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yes. That." Jamie sighed and leaned into her again, a comforting presence. God. She'd missed that.

They stayed still again. "When's the funeral?"

"This morning. We did a sunrise thing at the conservatory. Spread her ashes there, since she has a whole plaque and thing with her name on it."

"That sounds nice..." Jamie trailed off and then let go to stare at Vivian, enlightenment dawning. "Vivian Stewart Peck. Did you just blow off a wake to come apologize?"

"Uh... In my defense, it was my granddad's idea?"

"Jesus Christ. Give me ten minutes and you better fucking well have your spare helmet."

Perplexed, Vivian watched her girlfriend run back into the apartment. "I think that went well," she muttered to herself.

Ruby snorted a laugh. "Yeah that went okay. Lily is...?"

"My grandmother. Holly's Mom."

The nurse nodded, understandingly. "I'm sorry."

Vivian sighed. "Lily was just ... She was awesome. When I was a kid, Holly was sick and in the hospital. Quarantine. Whole nine yards. Gail was trying to do it all on her own and Lily just dropped everything to help and be a mom."

"Huh. This is the most I've ever heard you talk about yourself."

"I try not to be interesting. People always want to know my tragic history."

Ruby narrowed her eyes. "And is it?"

"Yeah. It is."

They stood in silence for a bit. Then Ruby asked, "She told you about her folks?"

"She did."

"You tell her about whatever the fuck is wrong with yours?"

Vivian hesitated. Accurately inaccurate. "I did."

Ruby nodded. "Now is probably not the time," said Ruby, slowly. "But our lease is up soon."

Would the universe please stop giving her fucking whiplash? Vivian rubbed her forehead. "Oh?"

"I got a job offer at the women's prison in Millburne." Ruby shrugged. "It's a shitty job, except it's a foot in the door I want so..."

So Ruby was going to be leaving Toronto. And Jamie would need a roommate. Vivian nodded a little. "When?"

"Two months. Loads of time for lesbians."

"Bite me." Vivian snarled and Ruby laughed. "But... Thank you. For telling me."

Ruby grinned. "I actually like you, Peck. You're good people. Stupid sometimes, but good."

"I try," she said quietly. "Not the stupid part. That seems to come naturally."

The nurse laughed. "Don't feel bad. Everyone can be stupid."

"Jamie seems to do a good job not."

"Ask her about Dennis," said Ruby, knowingly. "She tried a grand romantic gesture after they broke up and nearly got arrested—"

"Ruby, I will pay you to shut up," snapped Jamie, dressed in black pants with a dark shirt on, pulling on a jacket. "Helmet?"

Vivian blinked and then nodded. "Um. Yes. Yes, I have the ... Yes."

"Good. We're going to pay respects to your family, who are wonderful and kind, and we are going to shelve you being an idiot for a while." Jamie walked past Vivian to the bike. "And then you and I are going to talk for real, Viv."

It felt daunting and like the biggest relief at the same time. "Okay. I can do that."

* * *

The house felt quieter once the girls left. More and more Gail realized how much of the house was filled by one more person. One specific person. And when it was a combination of Jamie with Vivian, they really went a long way to enhancing the family feeling.

That said, Brian was there. It should have made the house feel fuller, but he was still a wash of unsettled pain.

"I like her," said Brian, loading the dishwasher. Gail had given up telling him he didn't need to help out. She understood the need.

"Jamie? Yeah, she's good people."

"She's good for Vivian too. Nicer than Liv was, but I get that."

Oh right. Brian had been in town while that had been going on. He'd come to Vivian's high school graduation, shocking everyone, and making Vivian cry. "Liv was safe," said Gail, agreeing.

"Exactly. Holls had the same problem for ages. She'd date safe girls who weren't going to be serious."

Gail smiled. "Get out before anyone gets hurt?"

She heard the groan from the stairs and Holly complained. "Seriously, Gail, it's been twenty-four years!"

"Taze yourself in the eye is a hard line to top." Gail shrugged.

Holly sighed and kissed Gail's cheek. "Dad, you don't have to help clean."

"I do." Brian closed the dishwasher and turned it on. "There. Coffee? Tea? Ice cream?"

"Tea. I'll do it." Gail got up and turned on the kettle. They stood around the kitchen, quietly, as the water boiled. "Okay, this is weird, right?"

Brian laughed. "Yes, yes it is." He sighed and sat down. "This is very weird. Remember when Vivian insisted on teaching Lily how to make proper Peck tea?"

Gail smiled. "Her first Christmas with us. She was so annoyed the next year when I told her we weren't going to see you guys."

"We missed her the last couple years." The widower looked a little sad. It was a different sad. "She's a grown up now. You guys did good."

"Yeah?" Holly smiled. "It's hard to tell."

"Oh god, it's impossible when it's you." Brian laughed in a familiar way. Self-deprecating. "But I'm telling you, for real, from out here, she's good people."

"A little screwed up," said Gail. But she smiled.

"A dash damaged, just like the rest of us." Holly reached over in Gail's general direction. She didn't need to ask. Gail knew and stepped closer to touch her hand. "Thanks, Dad."

Brian nodded. "Thank you too, Holls. For letting me stay here a bit."

The hand in Gail's tightened. "As long as you need," said Holly, softer than normal.

"Oh, no. No. Holls, I'd drive you two nuts. No." Brian shook his head. "I'll go home next week. Your cousins already said they'd help me box up the house."

So that was that. "You're really selling it?" Gail had expected it, but still. "I like that house."

"It's too big for just me, Gail. And it's too Lily. I'd miss her too much in it."

Gail glanced at Holly. Would she feel the same way about this house if Holly died first? Would Holly feel that way about the cottage. "Yeah, I can see that," Gail confessed.

"For the record, Grumpy Cat, if you die first I'm giving the kid the cottage." Holly, as always, read her mind.

While Gail grinned, Brian snorted. "You two are impossibly morbid."

"We're perfect for each other, Dad," said Holly, still smiling at Gail. A real smile. A Holly smile. Oh how Gail loved that smile. The way Holly looked at her was always unlike anyone else. She wasn't wary or guarded or cautious. She was open and loving and fond. Gail would move the fucking sun to be graced by that smile.

"It's just how we are." Gail grinned and kissed Holly's knuckles before pouring the tea. "If there's anything we can do, Brian, please... You and Lily ... You treated me like family."

As one, Holly and Brian argued. "You are family!"

Gail grinned. "If you'd know my family in the day..."

Brian sighed. "I wish I'd known your father, Gail. I might have popped him one, though."

"I would have held him still for you," said Gail.

"Did you love him?" Brian looked thoughtful.

Gail blinked. Few people asked her that. "Yes. I hated his guts, I'm still pissed at him, but I loved him." To her surprise, Holly took the tea out of her hands and hugged her. "Hey. I'm okay."

"I know. I just want to hug you." Holly rested her head on Gail's shoulder.

These moments still confused Gail. But she wound her arms around her wife and held her close.

Hours later as they lay in bed, Holly resting her head on Gail's shoulder, letting herself just be held, Gail struggled to find what to say. The doctor been so quiet and withdrawn, though really Gail understood why, it was still a little disturbing. Gail wanted to ask if Holly was holding up okay. But at the same time, Gail didn't want to make things worse.

It felt like all she could do was hold her wife and be there.

If felt like it wasn't even close to enough.

Silently, Holly's fingers sought out Gail's and slipped in between them. She sighed and craned her neck to look up at Gail. "I'm okay," she said softly in the dark.

"Okay," said Gail, not sure if it was enough or the wrong word.

"I miss her."

"I think… I think we'll miss her for a long time, Holly," replied Gail carefully.

"Yeah." Holly sighed again. "Yeah we will."

The silence settled on them again. Gail gnawed her lower lip and then turned her head, pressing her cheek to the top of Holly's head.

Holly sighed a third time, but this one sounded like it was full of relief. "Thank you. For being here."

"There's nowhere else I would rather be, Holly." Her wife snorted a laugh. "Really?" Gail couldn't keep the snarl out of her voice.

"Sorry. I was thinking of you when we started dating. You were such a brat."

Gail grinned at her own memories. "You know, Brian finked on you. He told me it was his fault you kissed me in interrogation the second time."

"Ah hell." Holly laughed. "You know, Mom's advice was the interrogation room. She said it would get your guard down. Dad was the fake report and the kissing."

Snickering, Gail had to cover her mouth not to laugh. "That was the stupid part. Totally made up story, too. I thought the girlfriend was a fake for a long time."

"She wasn't a girlfriend," Holly said firmly.

Gail knew that. She'd actually met the woman a few times. "Wait, so if Lily was all for getting me back, how come she was so terrifying when I met her?"

"Well... Same reason you scared the shit out of Jamie and Vivian, I think. Mom power."

"Damn. That's a great superpower."

Holly laughed. "Isn't it?" She sighed, sounding a bit more like herself. "I think I'm going to be okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm going to miss her for a long time, probably forever, but... I see Mom in me. And you. How you take care of people, even when they're pissed at you. And Viv." Holly exhaled deeply. "Mom's still in everything."

"Especially you," said Gail, softly.

"Yeah. Especially me."

* * *

In the darkness of her apartment, Vivian listened to Jamie's breathing. They'd been fighting for weeks, and though there had been texting and avoiding phone calls and talking about it for a while, it had not been a breakup. Vivian only knew that for certain because Jamie was there, in her bed, just lying beside her, and Jamie had told her so.

She wanted to ask if they really were okay, if Jamie was only there because Lily was dead. And she couldn't ask that.

The firefighter finally sighed and spoke, as if she knew damn well Vivian was awake. "Are we okay?"

"I was trying to figure out how to ask you that," admitted Vivian.

Jamie made a noise and then turned the light on, sitting up. "Okay. Were you intentionally avoiding me?"

Ouch. Jamie never started small. "Yes." Vivian sat up and hugged her knees. "I was really pissed off and didn't want to be mean to you." She paused. "Meaner."

Jamie made a face. "So you avoided me to not be mean?"

"Yeah."

"You get how that's kinda stupid, right?"

"Yeah, that kinda clicked."

Jamie looked at her and leaned against the headboard. "I really like you. But... This. You can't keep shoving things away and dealing with them later."

Nodding, Vivian rested her chin on her knees. "I know."

To her surprise, Jamie leaned into her. "I can't claim I know how it feels," she said quietly. "But ... I get hating someone. And I get not trusting people who aren't your moms. I just ... I want you to trust me."

Very slowly, Vivian reached over and found Jamie's hand. "I do. I don't trust _me_."

"I do."

It was very simple. Two words. Deep meaning.

"God, Jamie. Why? I avoided you for a fucking month and a half, got stupid ass drunk and a tattoo, and ... And I showed up at your door all sad and screwed up because more people in my life died or messed me up, only this time it was someone I really loved." She exhaled loudly, totally at a loss.

"And." Jamie spoke quietly. "You told me you thought my eyes were beautiful, which no one has just for the record. And you said life was too short to go at it alone. Disjointed, yeah, but romantic." Calmly, Jamie rubbed the back of Vivian's hand.

Vivian swallowed. "I was thinking... I didn't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been with you. You're one of the best things that ever happened to me."

"One of?" Jamie's voice was teasing.

It made Vivian smile. "Top two."

"That's not bad." They sat in the silence for a while. "What tattoo?"

Ouch. Vivian winced and let go, unfurling herself. She should have known Jamie would ask. "You can laugh," she said, dryly, and pulled her shirt sleeve up.

"Only if it's my name." As it was revealed, Jamie didn't laugh. She touched the tattoo softly and looked impressed. "Well that explains the long shirts. I thought you were allergic to them."

"Shirts?"

"Sleeves. You wear a lot of tank tops."

Vivian laughed a little. "I like my arms free."

"I'd noticed." Jamie tugged the shirt sleeve back down. "It's really beautiful though. What inspired that?"

"Alcohol." Vivian sighed. "Lara and Jenny dragged me out after ... While we were stupid."

Jamie smiled. "That's a good description of it. But. I know you, Peck."

"It's the ... It's the Golden Ratio. The mathematical representation of balance and aesthetic beauty."

"I'm _really_ glad it wasn't something stupid like my name or plants."

Vivian grinned. "God, so am I. I honestly have no idea why I picked it."

"How drunk were you?" Jamie poked her ribs. "I thought it was illegal to tattoo drunk people."

"Oh, we got wasted after we agreed to the tattoos. I just… kind of don't remember before the drinking much. Lara said I was going on and on about things."

Jamie made a noise. "So you get chatty when depressed and drunk? Here I thought you just tried to make moves on me."

"I'm really never living that down, am I?" She groaned.

To her surprise, Jaime kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm not going to let you forget it for a while, no." The firefighter smiled and rested her forehead against Vivian's shoulder.

The implication was clear. Hell the actions were clear. Jamie still wanted them to be a them. She was right there with Vivian, still willing and able to talk about things. They were still there.

Vivian hadn't ruined everything.

She exhaled, shakily, feeling relief settle inside her.

"You okay?" Jamie was quiet, almost gentle as she asked it. Tender? Yeah. That sounded like Gail and Holly in their annoyingly sweet moments.

"Better. I think."

Jamie made a noise of understanding. "Well you just had a shit-on-you parade."

A laugh escaped her and Vivian covered her mouth. "That's a good one."

"That's what Dad calls them."

Right. Because Jamie too had grown up with the angst and pain of it all. How much was this like her family. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Hm. No." Jamie stayed leaning on her. "You didn't really. Not ... You didn't scare me for me, you scared me for you. I knew you were hurt and I couldn't think of what to do." She sighed. "I am sorry I told you off."

"Don't be. I needed to hear it."

"Then don't be guilty about what you said about my mom," said Jamie, matter of factly. "She has some problems."

Vivian blinked. "See. That... That isn't my business. It's hers. And yours."

"Well. Yes, but you're my girlfriend and I want you to feel comfortable. Y'know, around my family." Jamie sat up straight again. "Family is really complicated. And fucked up sometimes. And ... We can be pretty screwy too."

"Yeah, we can," said Vivian slowly. "But anything wrong wrong, that's... That's their story, not us."

Jamie bobbled her head. "Kind of. Are you mad I told you about my dad?"

"God, no. That... That made sense."

"Doesn't this too?"

Ugh. Why was she talking sense? "Maybe. I don't know." Vivian grimaced and flopped back onto the mattress. "It's weird. There's stuff about Moms that's not ... I would be uncomfortable telling anyone. Even you."

Looking down at her, Jamie sighed. "It's complicated. We walk into each others lives with all these books written. The book of you and me and now... us."

"Exactly."

"I dunno. What if Mom was okay with it?"

Vivian eyed her girlfriend. "Hey, Mom, mind if I tell my girlfriend all about you? Oh.. Shit, what did you tell your parents?"

"I said you were dealing with some weird family problems and left it at that." Jamie shrugged and leaned back, resting on her elbows. "Not exactly their business."

"No. It's not." But that didn't feel quite right. "Is it?"

Jamie snorted. "Not right now. No. Maybe if we got super serious and were getting married or something, but ... That's a sleeping bear I'd rather leave alone."

"God, I wish it'd stop waking up and biting me." When Jamie laughed, morbidly, Vivian bit her lip. "I missed you," said Vivian softly. "I missed you and I was just so mad at my aunt for showing up. It's... It's not something I ever thought was a thing and then all that shit dumped on me and I couldn't figure out what was me and what wasn't and who was I and... I pushed everything just so I could feel something I understood."

"I get that," said Jamie. "Don't push me away next time, okay? Be mad, be angry, be mean, but... Let me help?"

"I'm ... I'm scared of how mean I could be."

"You're not your ... You're not your birth family, Viv."

"I don't know that." She whispered the words into the night. There. Vivian said the words that had been haunting her. Would she be like her father or grandparents or aunt?

Jamie exhaled a long, soft, breath. "I do." A hand took hers. "Even if you have that crazy shit in you, if we have it in us, we choose not to be those people. My mom's bipolar. I'm not, I don't think. But if I am, I'm sure as fuck going to listen to you if you tell me I scare you or anything. So you have to listen to me too."

"Oh." It was all Vivian could say to that. It was incredibly simple and understandable and direct. But the layers were forever.

"I'll take that as a yes." Jamie sounded rather self satisfied.

"You rarely scare me," said Vivian.

"Only when I run into buildings?"

"Only when they're on fire."

"I think that's okay. I get scared when you get shot."

"Yeah, but I actively try not to be shot," Vivian pointed out, pragmatically.

Jamie laughed. "I like that about you. You're smart."

"And an idiot. Not really a fairytale."

"No," agreed Jamie.

"No." Vivian looked up at Jamie and was surprised to see her smiling. "Why are you so happy?"

"Because I'm here. And you're not being stupid. And I'm not being stupid. And we're pretty awesome people, even if we're fucked up." Jamie laughed and lay back down, tucking her hands under her head. "Not a fairytale, but those are over rated. I'll take fractured any day."

Vivian found herself smiling back.

* * *

Going back to work was the hardest thing. Oliver had warned her that everyone else would be normal, but for her the world was changed. Because her mother was still dead.

Holly sighed and walked into the office.

Ruth looked surprised. "Boss..."

"Hello, Ruth. I cleared my emails last night."

Her secretary frowned, deeply, at her. "I didn't expect you till next week."

Holly arched her eyebrows in amusement. "So you didn't clear up the kegger?"

"Rodney has all your paper work, he's delegating most of it. Just not the personnel issues. The Medical Director's side is handling all requisitions and deployments. Trace has finally stepped up, and the rumor that I threatened them is just a rumor. I did not threaten. Also we got the shipment for the bomb re-creations, and Arson and ETF are both arguing over who would be more helpful." She paused. "So. You... Um. We all want you back, Dr. Stewart, but we want you to take the time you need."

Oh. It was disturbingly sweet and weird. "Ruth. I don't think I'm going to be 'fine' for a while. And I come from a very long line of workaholics. Including my mother." Holly smiled. "Also I might be arrested for homicide if I stay home any longer, and then who would do the cooking?"

Ruth sighed. "Your wife makes excellent cupcakes."

"I know, right?"

They both smiled. "Fine, but I'm keeping stupid requests out of your hair for a while."

"That's fine by me. Hell, you can do that all the time!" Holly grinned as Ruth's laughter followed her into her office.

There were no cut flowers, likely in deference to her public distaste of them. Someone had brought in a new potted plant, though, and placed it next to the cactus that Rodney labeled 'Gail' years ago. A potted Easter Lily. Ah. Caring hearts. Holly checked the soil as she plucked the card from the plant.

It was from her staff, signed, no message other than 'from all of us.' Those were her coworkers alright. She smiled and tucked the card away. Wasn't that the way life should be? People being nice when it was needed. How lucky was she to have such a world.

A world without her mother though.

Holly ran her fingers over the lily petals.

She'd never asked why her parents named her Holly. Her mother being Lily, she assumed it was flower or plant related. But it was one of life's mysteries she'd never cared deeply about. Lily hadn't had a middle name either. It just was what it was.

If she and Gail had named a child of their own, perhaps a flower name would have been used. Though Gail always said she'd want to name a child after Oliver if anyone. Maybe Vivian would. Or not. It was too bad Lily had never met Jamie, or any of Vivian's hypothetical children.

Too soon to think of that, though Holly was relieved to see Jamie and Vivian not just talking but being together again. After the wake, Jamie had come by for a dinner with the family, while Brian was still in town. They'd chatted and teased Vivian for being, well, Vivian, and a load was lifted off Holly's heart.

Was that how Lily had felt when Gail and Holly had gotten back together? Probably not. There was so much more in that moment, that situation, that everything, every second was agony. Gail left a void that was only filled by Gail. From what Holly understood, it had been the same for Gail.

Well. That was love. It did weird things and made a person desperately miss another, even if they'd been fighting or stupid. Her parents had struggled through that themselves. After they'd been married a few years, the whole near-divorce was a near secret. Holly wasn't sure if she'd supposed to have known about it or not, but it had been pretty obvious.

That level of fighting, uncomfortableness, had never happened after they'd married. That was just luck, probably. Everyone fought. She and Gail fought still from time to time. Two strong minded individuals were bound to clash. It was expected and normal. But the difference was that, after their first massive fight and misunderstandings, they talked. Hell, before the fought they'd talked. And even if they were always destined to be more than friends, they had been friends.

Her parents had started out as antagonists and become lovers. Maybe that was a difference? Maybe not. Brian was still wrecked without Lily. Holly knew she would be without Gail. That insane, morbid, unpredictable blonde worked her way in through the cracks and established herself as the person Holly needed most in the world.

She was Holly's person.

Smiling, Holly pulled her phone out and messaged Gail, telling her she was at work and fine. Gail's reply was a reminder of the batting cages. All four of them were going. A double date, as it were, with her daughter and her daughter's girlfriend.

That was alright.

Holly then texted her father, telling him nothing more than that she loved him.

He did not text back, though he would likely call later. Brian hated texting. In many ways, Holly understood that. It could be impersonal and distant. But she wondered if her parents had texting, the Internet, and all those methods to say 'I love you' without the words, would their relationship have been less difficult? Three words. Simple ones. Small and monosyllabic. But they were still so hard for Gail to put to voice. Even when Holly and Lily had been fighting, they still said those words regularly.

Communication.

She moved the lily plant to where it would get the most appropriate sun and sat at her desk, looking over the city a bit. Holly didn't regret anything. She didn't regret the fight with her mother even. Had they not fought, Holly suspected she'd not have been ready for what came next. The argument, the fight had helped shape her into who and what she was.

Spreading her hands on her desk, Holly smiled.

Everything she was had been shaped by her mother. Lily had guided her, let her go, and watched her run. All her achievements were because her mother taught her how to be a woman in a world of men. How to stand up for herself. How to fight. And how and when to back down.

Not to discount her father at all, because Holly adored the ground he walked on, but Lily understood the one thing Brian never could. This world, the world they lived in, was a man's world. It was built and shaped by men for men, and women were always struggling in it.

Maybe that was why Lily took it so poorly when Holly came out. Here was her daughter, already with a world set against her for her gender, taking up arms of another target. When Vivian had confessed her crush, Holly felt the air in her lungs sucked out of her. It reminded her of the time Swarek creamed her at first base.

She held onto the ball with Swaerk, and she didn't act like her mother with her own daughter.

But Holly couldn't be anything or anyone other than who and what she was. She was who she was made. Just like Gail. Just like Vivian.

And she liked who she'd been made into.

She was Dr. Holly Stewart, Chief Medical Examiner of Ontario, head of the Toronto crime labs. She was a wife and a mother. Maybe she hadn't run as far, professionally, as she might have without the wife and children. And maybe she hadn't run as far as a wife or a parent as she would have in some other profession. But she was all those things and glad for it.

Holly liked herself.

Not everyone could say that.

"Okay, folks," she said to herself. "Let's solve some medical mysteries today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lily dying was the plot long before I wedged Vivian and her idiocy in there.
> 
> People you love and cherish die too. Their death destroys your world for ages. Maybe years. It was over a year before I felt normal again, and I still think of it as a new normal. Thankfully I have people who love me and remind me it's okay to feel this way, and I'm not alone. I didn't start to feel happy for ages, or at least I felt guilty for being happy. Now I feel sad and happy when I remember the things she'd enjoy. It's been a few years. I still think of her daily.
> 
> Originally this was written without any Holly point of view scenes. But as I hit the end, I realized she needed to close this one out.


	30. 03.09 - Big Nickel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, science prevails and breaks open a case. Meanwhile, two generations of Pecks are on Pride Parade, and it's finally time for Vivian to take her next step as an adult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the shooting at last year's pride parade, and the concert, Toronto's been stepping up for safety. This had the result in pushing back Pride Week to August. Because if there was a way to make Gail hate the goddamned float even more, it would be by having it in fucking August. But August it is and so we have the parade.
> 
> Don't worry. No one dies this year.

* * *

Watching Andy McNally, the absolute most earnest fuckup Gail had known in her entire life, wrangle the division into some semblance of order was kind of hilarious. No one really controlled the officers. Even when Gail had been uniformed, it was a chaotic mess that Oliver had controlled with his charm and wit. Andy, lacking those tools, did a pretty impressive Mom Glare (for someone without any children) until things slowly calmed.

As the group settled down, Gerald's voice was heard a little too loudly. "I just don't get why Major Crimes is involved."

"Seriously, Gerald?" Gail couldn't help herself. His old nickname popped out and she was surprised to see almost every rookie (actually everyone new for the last decade...) stare at him. "Yes, _he's_ Gerald. I named him that. Shut up you nimrods."

A brief rumble of laughter ran through the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, Inspector Peck," said Andy, smirking broadly.

Gail rolled her eyes. Admittedly, Gerald had a point. After the shooting the year before, though, Organized Crime had taken point on the pride parade. And with Gail being a big ol' queer, she was in charge. "Sgt. McNally."

Hopping off the table she'd been sitting on, Gail walked up to the podium. "Actually it's OC who is in charge. Organized Crime does _not_ mean mobsters. I know you know that. After the escalation of crime at Pride the last few years, we moved Toronto Pride to August. It's hotter, it's sweatier, and yes, I will be on a fucking float in the same idiotic cotton-poly bullshit blend as the rest of you." Gail glanced around. "Three of your officers will be with me, representing Fifteen patrol. Aronson, Peck, and Grant. Peck will be walking. That was her choice, I don't make anyone walk in the sun, it's evil. The rest of you half wits will be guarding us. Which is why we're here. We're going to go over proper escalation and handling of high stress and emotional situations."

There was a pause and Hanford slowly raised his hand. "Ma'am, what exactly does that mean?"

Sharing a look with Andy, Gail cleared her throat. "It means any one of you dipshits hurts a civilian, I will personally take away your badge and shove it up your ass."

And she proceeded to go over the proper handling of high stress situations with large numbers of civilians.

In the last twenty or so years, public awareness had heightened regarding the behavior of police. Slipping up in public was just not acceptable. Making human mistakes was one thing when the worst that happened was a black eye. When it was a dead man, it was a whole different level of hell.

OC and Major Crimes had slowly taken the point for ensuring the public actions of any organized police 'events' were controlled. The stupid concert ticket event where Vivian had gotten shot had been an OC event. Sometimes Gail joked that it stood for Organized Chaos these days. It was less and less of a joke as time went on.

Gail had given a talk about this many times before. She'd even gone to the academy for a lecture on it, though for Vivian's class she sent John instead. The information had to be shared. It had to be taught and it had to be repeated. Mistakes that cops made could be fatal, and that just had to be avoided.

Early on in her detective career, Gail had seen the horrific events unfold in America. She'd been present for a screaming match that she shouldn't even be at the parade, as a cop. That had been a fun day. There was no possible way to 'win' those arguments either. Both sides had points. Gail had, as one of the representatives of the LGBTQ police of Toronto, argued that they shouldn't voluntarily withdraw from the parade, but abide by the decisions made.

Then the police had been excluded from the parade, and the paramedics and firefighters took the cops' side. And then all the shit in America had happened. Those were days and months she never got back. It brought the worst Peck in her out for the world. And frankly it had all happened so close to Holly and that fucking Lungo River Fever event, that she really didn't give a fuck.

Eventually it was sorted out. The police still marched and still protected. Some were assholes, some were not. But her job now was to help make sure the assholes were kept far away from the event. On both sides.

In the years since, the only person killed at Pride had been a priest.

Elaine, watching it on the news, noted that the PR from Gail holding JP as he died was phenomenal imagery. As galling as that was, Elaine had a point. Elaine often had a point, though Gail was loathe to mention it. The more anyone praised Elaine, the more she slipped back into her old habits. Of course the same could be said of Gail. At least they were both self aware enough about the situations.

After running the parade crew through the likely scenarios, Gail dismissed them for a more physical refresher in handling unruly crowds. It used to be the Noelle class. These days it was taught by a young officer named Hari Bandari. Young. Hah. He was thirty. Gail was old.

"Think it'll help?" Andy looked thoughtful as she asked.

"Fuck if I know, but maybe they'll think about things."

Her friend sighed. "We've just been really lucky."

"Fifteen has," agreed Gail, leaning on the podium. Twenty-Seven had not; a young man died in custody. Thirty-Four hadn't either, when a woman was shot and killed at a routine traffic stop. But of all the things possible, Fifteen had the luck and hadn't killed anyone in a suspicious way.

"Its funny isn't it? We've had two shooters in the damn building, and I think we're lucky."

Gail tilted her head. "Dov was the sergeant for the second one."

"Yeah." Andy paused. "Why was Frank transferred after Ford?"

"Because he handled it well." She shrugged. "Chloe, Sam, Ollie, Marlo, and everything. High stress and he didn't crack or slip, he just did it."

Andy looked surprised. "I always thought ... Huh."

"Lots of people did." Gail ran her hands through her hair. "It was a good promotion. A little PR move. And it let us get Ollie off the street."

Andy's expression turned a bit grim. "He never really got back to be the same as he was."

"Do we ever?" As Gail spoke, Andy's expression went guilty. "Oh come on, McIdiot. If you hadn't come back early, no one would have known I was missing for hours."

"That's not... So you know how Volk is starting her D rotation?"

"Uh, duh. Yes."

"Zettle starts his rooks reading up on famous crimes at Fifteen."

Gail looked blankly at Andy for a moment. "So?" Then she blinked as the conversation thread organized itself and sorted itself out. "Oh. Seriously? He's got her reading that?"

Andy nodded, morosely. "I didn't think about it. Don't they clear that stuff with you?"

"Not really. Zeke, and he wouldn't really think about it. It's old news to them." Gail sighed. "Well. Whatever. They should learn from that shit."

"You really think that?"

Pausing, Gail looked at Andy. The other legacy cop was studying her thoughtfully. Deeply. "Yeah, I do."

Andy exhaled loudly. "You are such a fucking Peck sometimes, y'know."

"Heard that before."

Andy smirked. "I like you. You're a good friend. But I would not be happy if it was me."

Gail scoffed at the woman. "Uh, fact check, Girl Guide. Your escapade with Swarek is on curriculum." When Andy winced, Gail went on. "So is you fucking up with Gerald. And I'm pretty sure your human smuggling snafu too."

"Hey that last one, I'm the damn hero!"

"Yeah. You were." Gail smiled, a honest smile, at Andy. "You were."

The sergeant sighed. Andy may have been a hero, but she was also nearly strangled to death by the head of the smuggling ring. She'd somehow managed to break herself free and shoot the man in the knee, but when they'd found her, Andy had finger marks on her neck. Holly had printed them, ensuring the smuggler went away for as long as possible. "Scared as shit, and nightmares for years. Do they ever go away?"

"Yes," said Gail. It wasn't a lie. Her's didn't. Wouldn't... Couldn't. Andy eyed her, doubtfully. "What?"

"I'm not stupid, Gail," she said quietly. When Gail didn't say anything, Andy went on. "Remember that UC op six years ago?"

"Sleeping in a van was not a UC op, McNally. We were staking out that pedo." Andy had been on a short stint in juveniles, a job Gail would never in her life try.

"You had a nightmare."

Even though Andy said it without any rancor or implications, it still rankled. Damn it. It hurt her, of course, because it was her life and Gail would forever wear the scars. But... "You know, you're weird, Andy. Half the time you want to protect me from even mentioning that Perik drugged me and kidnapped me. The other half, you wanna deep dive into my psyche. It wasn't your fault."

Andy blinked. "What?"

"It wasn't. Your. Fault."

"But... I should have—"

"No. If you'd been there, he might have done the same thing. Maybe he'd have waited until I left in the morning. Maybe he'd have killed someone else. You showing up? Saved my life. And you know it."

Andy looked at her feet. "Dumb luck. That whole..." She trailed off.

"I know," said Gail, agreeing sincerely. "It was stupid, stupid luck."

"I should have made Sam listen," Andy said in an incredibly soft voice.

"What?" Gail frowned. She'd not heard about Sam in any factor except being screwed up that his best friend died.

"I thought it was a car, the guy behind Perik. I _knew_ it. And... Sam backed me up, but we let Jerry push us the other way and he went alone. We should have been with him. Then he'd be alive and you wouldn't have been locked in a trunk—"

"Andy!" Gail snapped and cut her off. The other officer stared at her. "Have you told anyone all that before?" Andy shook her head, helplessly. "You ... You get its been almost twenty five years, Andy. Right?" And Andy nodded.

Jesus. Twenty five fucking years and Andy had never tried to properly deal with her guilt. She probably hadn't talked to anyone about Luke or Sam or Nick or anything like that. Andy just kept it all inside. No wonder she'd flitted around so many positions on the force. She was still trying to find herself. And Gail knew that was not shit anyone could do on their own.

Gail sighed and picked a pen up off the podium and scribbled a name and number down on the scratch paper. "Here."

Andy took the paper without seeming to think. "What... Who's this?"

"A therapist. He's on our insurance and he gets cops."

Now Andy stared at her. "This... You ... Still?"

Gail nodded. "Yeah. Look..." She sighed. "I'm a lot more fucked up than a serial killer, Andy. And ... So are you. Our folks did a number on us. So call him. Talk. Get your head straight."

Staring at the paper, Andy nodded. "Thank you," she said softly.

Gail nodded again. There was nothing else she could do, but she could do that small bit.

* * *

"Are you sure you won't be too hot?"

Gail gave a droll look. "Do I have a choice?"

Smiling, Holly reached over to adjust Gail's tie and dust off her badge. "I'm just saying its a cotton-poly blend."

"Which is of the devil." Gail sighed and put her hat on. "Get my neck?"

"I got it before you put your button down on, honey," said Holly, but she checked again because getting to touch Gail again was not a bad thing. "Okay. I have bottles of water and coconut water. More sunscreen. Pain killers. Anything else?"

The cop shook her head. "Are you really wearing that?"

Holly looked down. She had on shorts and a t-shirt with a rainbow flag that said 'Property of the Medical Examiner's Office.' She also had on sunblock as a matter of course. "You want me to put on my softball jersey? That shitty flannel you bought me?"

"I'm just saying... I'm all dressed up."

"First of all, you burn. Second of all, if I put my lab coat on, you and I both know we're not leaving the house."

Gail grinned ear to ear. "I see no flaws in this plan." She reached for Holly's waist and pouted when her hands were slapped away. "I don't wanna go," whined the woman in blue.

"You are the highest ranked openly queer police officer in Toronto. It's your job." Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Come on. We'll march, we'll throw beads, you can tease Vivian. Then I'll take you to brunch."

"I hate you," said Gail, but she followed Holly down to the cars. "Why isn't Vivian here?"

"Because Jamie has today off, so they were making up last night."

That had been the best news, of recent days. Jamie and Vivian sorted out their shit. After the pain and death, Holly reveled in the moment of joy watching Jamie and Vivian at dinner. They had a different aura of shy about them, a tentative set of smiles that were half wonder and half hope.

Holly remembered the look, the same damn look, on Gail's face when they'd gotten back together. Raw, unfettered, hope. It was so rare for Gail, even now, to trust the world like that. But even Gail spotted the look the week before, when Jamie had come over for dinner. The couple had been sitting by the grill, keeping an eye on it quietly. They could be seen from the kitchen, and Gail had simply remarked that it was good to see.

So at the reminder of her daughter's success in the moment, Gail smiled. "I'm glad," she said quietly.

Smiling back, Holly got into the car. "Me too. Now let's go have a nice mommy, mommy, and daughter day in the parade."

"Can we get pancakes after?"

"Yes, Gail, we can have pancakes after."

That was all it took to successfully wrangle the grumpy Peck into the car and out to the parade. The early morning wrangling was all done with the patrol officers, most of whom were on a break when they walked up. Vivian, interestingly, was nowhere in sight.

"I bet she's in a coat closet," said Gail under her breath as she sat on the edge of the float.

"You are aware I was adopted, right?" Vivian popped up from the other side, adjusting her vest. It surprised Gail enough to swear, which made Holly crack up. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey." Holly beamed and kissed Vivian's cheek as soon as she came near. "Were you just waiting to terrify Gail?"

Vivian smirked. "No. I was talking to Duncan about last year." The girl hopped up to sit on the float bumper. "Are we doing breakfast after? I'm gonna be starved."

With a snarl, Gail poked back. "That's what you get staying up all night having sex, and then walking the fucking parade. Why are you walking anyway?"

"And where's Jamie?" Holly smiled, intentionally taking the edge off Gail's snark.

"Jamie's on the fireman float, which is number 32. I'm walking because two Pecks on the float is just silly." Vivian shrugged.

Holly shook her head. "You're walking because you're a jock, Viv." She leaned towards Gail, nearly falling until she was caught by Gail's absently placed hands on her waist. "How did we raise a jock?"

"It's your fault," said Gail seriously. "You run."

"You do yoga," countered Holly.

"I like seeing pretty girls all sweaty in minimal clothing," said Vivian, in her best Peck deadpan.

Both Gail and Holly stared and then broke up laughing. "Your daughter." Holly pointed at Gail. "You're the perv, Peck."

Gail rolled her eyes and tugged Holly closer. "Whatever. I like your boobs."

They kissed, chastely, and Holly peered at Vivian. Long gone was the time where the girl would make faces or gag when she caught them kissing. Or worse. Now she just took it as a matter of course. "Viv, are you wearing sun block?"

The young officer startled. "Uh. No. Why?"

Now Holly rolled her eyes and picked up her backpack. "Tan you may be, my child, but skin cancer knows no limits. Come here."

One of the other cops laughed as Vivian was manhandled into sunblock.

Too soon it was time for the actual parade march to start. Holly watched the police officers attach a rainbow band to their badges, even a few of the ones working the parade instead of being on the float. She attached Gail's for her, reminding the blonde that she loved her a lot. In return, Gail put a rainbow pin on Holly's collar and smiled a little queasily.

While Gail was generally fine with public speaking now, she hadn't always been. According to Traci, Gail would play sick and face the wrath of Elaine to avoid it back in the day. By the time Holly had come around, Gail strongly disliked it, but was somewhat resigned. These days, she was on the TV at least once a month at some press conference. But Gail still had her general malaise about being the center of attention.

A news reporter was waiting as their float approached the start line. Gail, with a dramatic sigh, took a moment for a sound bite with the young reporter.

"This is my eighteenth year on the Toronto Police Float, and my twenty third as a member of The LGBTQ Task Force. I'm very proud of our city's commitment to the community, and thankful that through all the difficulties we've had over the decade, we are all able to come together and remember that this parade is to celebrate the hurdles we've overcome, provide support for the future, and stand as people the next generations can look up to."

Holly had heard variations on Gail's little blurb before. The cop always practiced it at home, asking advice the first time from Lisa. After all, Lisa had been to more parades than anyone else. The boob doctor used to go to four a year, just in Canada, and she'd often hop the border to NYC. This year, Lisa was marching locally only with a doctor group. Lisa's thought was that if Gail was brave enough to go back out there, then everyone should. Including Kate, her girlfriend who had never marched before, and Rachel's dads, who hated the spectacle.

And then the man had a follow up. "Inspector Peck, you were a witness to the shooting last year. Do you feel that was a hate crime?"

The entire float stiffened. Hell. The organizers did too.

But Gail calmly leaned over. "Son, you should do your research. The incident last year was a personal vendetta on a man who had tried like hell to redeem himself, but had made mistakes. Father JP was a friend of mine, and the world is a smaller place without him. But a hate crime? No. It wasn't about race or sexual preference at all. It was just anger and rage that one person felt, and he was unable to express it in a healthy way." Gail looked over at the camera. "You may want to cut the video. I'll be contacting your company later."

The silence reigned as the float began its slow passage down the street. After a block, people started to laugh. "Damn," said one of the detectives from Four. "He's a moron. You really gonna call his station?"

"You bet your ass." Gail had her phone out and was texting. "Okay folks. Smile, wave, toss some beads. Remember, we're here, we're queer, and last I checked, we all get a free beer at the Penny at the end."

Holly laughed and took Gail's hand, ready to face one more day on parade.

* * *

The box of donuts was odd. Vivian eyed it on the podium as she took her seat.

"Wow, you got tanner. I didn't know that was possible." Jenny slipped in beside her.

"I had on sunblock too." Vivian shrugged. "How'd you like working Pride?"

"Eh, super weird. My mom was happy though. She loves that shit."

"That makes one of 'em."

Jenny laughed. "Inspector Peck hates it, doesn't she?"

"Vehemently. She can't wait till I'm at least a second rank constable so she can dump the float on me."

Sitting down beside them, Duncan shook his head. "Not till you have a white shirt. Santana was always on her about that."

Vivian made a face. "I forgot."

"Santana? The old chief of police?" Jenny eyed Duncan.

"My step-dad. Cool guy."

"My god-grandfather. I agree." Vivian shared a smile with Duncan. It was rare. "Speaking of white shirts, you ever gonna step up?"

The older officer shook his head. "Not me. First rank constable is all I needed."

What would that be like? Being a constable in blue all one's career? Vivian huh'd thoughtfully.

"Why do you have to have a white shirt?" Jenny looked confused.

"Propriety." Duncan shrugged. "Someone with a white shirt tells the people that not only do we have queer officers, which y'know, duh, but we have 'em in charge willing to stand up. It's better if its a woman, or a PoC, though. Then it's a big middle finger."

Everyone stared at Duncan. Even Vivian, who knew him for longer than anyone else in uniform, was surprised.

"Thank you for that unexpectedly deep opinion, Duncan," said Andy as she walked in. "And thank you everyone for a successful pride parade." There was applause. "And a huge thank you to the LGBTQ Task Force. It was through their efforts and presence that we received a sizable donation this year."

Vivian huh'd and clapped. Sooner or later, Gail would make good on having Vivian join the task force, which was such a stupid name. Calling it a task force made it sound like there really was a gay agenda. If there was, they'd never sent Vivian any sort of pamphlet or hand out. Still, she knew her mother did an annoying amount of work with them, and would have to ask how she'd managed to raise money. Then again, it was totally possible it was a little Peck money laundering from the Armstrong side to the force.

Better not to ask, she decided.

"With that, we have a new class through the academy. Gagnon, hold on to your tie. You have a bit more to do. Collins will take you to the range for your shoot. And, hopefully, I will have one less rookie on my hands in time for the fine that Station Fifteen will be facing for the foreseeable future."

A rumble went through the room. Vivian stared at Andy. A fine. Donuts. Not... No. "No," she whispered.

Lara elbowed her.

"Peck. Front and center."

No. Vivian gaped and then stood up. She had no thoughts in her head as she walked to the center of the room. "Ma'am?"

The brown eyes of a woman she'd known for almost twenty years were smiling at her. Andy McNally, someone her mother regularly teased and harassed, but also sat up with when Andy was stabbed, and stood by in a divorce, was smiling. It was the sad smile. The one Elaine had when Vivian graduated the academy. "For the first time since its inception, Fifteen will be paying a donut fine," said Andy, quietly but firmly.

It occurred to Vivian that she had no idea who actually paid the fine... Was it her or was it the division? "I'm sorry," she replied.

"Makes me wish we'd kept Wet Peck," Andy said with a deep sigh. "Report to ETF, Peck. You'll be with Jules in EDU until they cut you loose and you come back to split time."

Someone in the back piped up. "That's Sgt. Smith!"

Vivian grinned. Of course she knew Sgt. Julian "Jules" Smith. She'd run up a dual warped wall with him more than once, literally. They'd been on the same team for the group challenge at Ninjymnastics. Vivian had wanted an all girls team, but that was always hard to float. And none of that mattered. He was her sergeant now. She was in ETF working under EDU! Explosive Disposal Unit!

Okay, yes, split time. No one was permanently assigned to ETF except the sergeants and on up, but even then everyone but Sue ended up on patrol now and then. There (thankfully) wasn't enough call for full time squads. As soon as Vivian passed her probationary period with ETF, at least a third of her time would be patrol work again. That might be a half year or more, depending on how well she did.

Because she was in ETF! Vivian wanted to squeal.

"Yes, ma'am," said Vivian to Andy. She tried to put as much sincerity as she could into it. Because this was Andy McNally. This was the woman who was there for her first collar. Andy had been there when her tie was cut. As a mentor, a TO, and (as much as Gail might bluster) family, Andy was a part of her life forever.

Andy sighed softly. "You've been working for this from before you put on uniform, Peck. Knowing what you want and going for it, being top of your class in the right ways that are helping you towards you goal is laudable." The sergeant looked thoughtful. "Though. If you come to Parade and you're not on patrol, the donuts are on you."

Everyone laughed. "I'll remember that, ma'am," said Vivian, trying not to grin ear to ear.

"Good. Serve, protect." Andy paused and leaned into Vivian's face, with a smile that was pure Oliver. "And don't. Screw. Up." With a wink, Andy leaned back. "Assignments are on the board. Dismissed."

The day was downhill from there, sadly. Vivian had some idea that her first day would be spent doing something useful. Instead, she spent three hours filing paperwork and picking up her new kit and being interviewed again by one last person at the Big Building (some fellow named Dodge who had Elaine's old office, and seemed to have some relationship with Gail). Then she was sent back to Fifteen to move her gear to a new locker in the ETF side.

Sgt. Smith was pleased to see her organized, at least, and told her to grab lunch before he would run her through the new status quo, but he handed her a thick notebook. Lunch. Right. And more paperwork she was expected to read and memorize. It would probably be a week before she got to kit up.

Ugh. The dull shit. She put the last of her new gear in her new locker, only to have Gagnon come in with a paper bag. "Um. Are you a ma'am yet?"

She blinked. "No. Still Peck. What's that? More books?"

"Oh. No. No, it's from Inspector Peck. She said you're Bomb Peck now?" He held out the bag.

Reflexively, Vivian took it and looked in. And laughed. Her mother sent her lunch. Gagnon made a curious noise. "Nothing. Thanks, Gagnon." She then eyed him. "How'd the shoot go?"

He winced. "I have to try again this afternoon."

Ah. She smiled. "80% of rooks fail the first time."

The younger man looked relieved. "That's what Sarge said."

"Yeah, McNally passed on her first go." And when Gagnon's face fell, Vivian laughed. "Cheer up. You'll make it."

Taking her lunch into the break room, Vivian spread out the ringed binder and started to make her way through it as she enjoyed the lunch from her mothers. They both knew, of course. They probably knew before she did, and that was okay.

Now, though, now Vivian had to read the brand new docs on how rapid deployment from a division (which was different than the way they'd worked from the big building). Smaller teams. It was still new.

"Hey, random question?" Lara dropped into a seat beside Vivian.

"Wow. I don't even get a congratulations?" She marked her place and closed the notebook.

Her friend smirked. "That too, ETF Peck. But I have a detective question."

Vivian eyed Lara. "ETF me. Detective you. What's the deal?"

"They've got me revision old cases, copy cat killers and serials, so I can kinda get a feel for the weird shit." Lara hesitated. "I was reading up on this guy last night. Ross Perik?"

Shit. Vivian stared at Lara for a moment and put her burger down. "Who the hell is making you read about him?"

"So it ... I mean. The cop?"

There was no way around it. Crap. Lara was going ask about Gail. "Which cop?"

"The dead guy. Jerry Barber? That's the cop Sadie was asking after back in January, right?"

Oh thank god. She wasn't asking about Gail. "Yeah, he's the one Perik killed. Why are you..." Vivian trailed off. Because Lara had a total hero crush on Traci, and Jerry had been her fiancé. "Oh. Yes, he was."

Lara shook her head. "Jesus, how could she just go back to work? And as a D?"

Vivian shrugged. "Dunno. Even I'd been adopted then, I would have been like a few months old." She paused and waved a fry in the air. "Want something weird?"

"It gets weirder?"

She smiled. "Remember Jordan Lewis?" Lara screwed up her face and then nodded. "Traci's first day back after all that, she and Mom met Jordan and Father JP."

Lara looked impressed. "That's the priest who died last year? Jesus, small world."

"I always thought Toronto was huge until I went to New York." Vivian had been thirteen and in awe. After putting up with Holly and the lectures, she and Gail played tourist and even walked up the Statue of Liberty. "That's something about Fifteen, though."

"Oh?"

"It's a small world. We're going to meet people who are legacies and who tie into our lives over and over." Vivian picked up her burger again. "The criminals we see, the crimes too. They all tie back to the beginning of time."

With a thoughtful look, Lara leaned back in her chair. "You tell Jamie yet? About the gig?"

"She's on today, so I didn't want to distract her—" Vivian yelped when Lara slugged her shoulder. "Ow! What the hell?"

"Text your girl and tell her you're in demolitions." Lara scowled until Vivian pulled her phone out and texted. "Good. You know, for a lesbian, you know shit about girls."

Vivian snorted. "My trail of being dumped is pretty damming evidence of the truth of that one." And Lara laughed at her. "Shut up!" But Vivian laughed too. She was finally starting to get things right.

* * *

Chloe walked in and closed the door. "I'm hiding here."

Gail blinked. "Okay? Did you bring me anything?"

"Fear, doubt, and guilt?"

She blinked again. "What's wrong with the family? Your mom okay?" Gail knew Chloe's mom had been sick off and on over the last few years. Cancer would likely never be cured entirely.

"No. It's ..." Chloe stopped, groaned, and sat on Gail's couch. "You've never had sex with Holly on the couch, right?"

"Not _that_ couch, no." There was no point in denying that she had messed around in the precinct as a rookie. Her daughter didn't, though Gail had caught the girl kissing Jamie at the parade. "Oh! Did you catch Chris on the couch with someone?"

Chloe stared at Gail, her eyes narrowing sharply. "Someone?"

The what now? Why would Chloe zero in on that word? Why did 'someone' matter unless... "Oh don't tell me he's queer and you have a problem!"

Both of Chloe's hands shot up. "Not me!"

"I will kick Dov's ass for him—"

"No. That's not... Gail. Chris wants to be a cop."

Gail frowned. "So? Viv is. It's a pain in the ass, but you can survive it. And I'm saying this on the day my kid joined ETF."

"And..." Chloe trailed off, looking worried.

"And what?" She stared at her friend and tried to think of what would upset Dov but not Chloe, and yet inspire the muppet to hide with her. Gail kicked her brain and parsed the words Chloe had said oh so carefully. She was a fucking Peck, and Pecks memorized and processed and deduced. The key word was 'someone' and Chloe had said her son—

No. She had not. She said Chris.

Suddenly, Gail felt for Lily, which made her heart ache. But when Lily had been faced with the unexpected, a gay daughter, she'd faltered. Here was Chloe, facing a world she'd been unprepared for. When she'd become a mother, Gail's world had changed. For her own, Vivian's homosexuality had not been a surprise. Gail had seen how the girl reacted around men for too long, and how she'd blushed in her pre-teen years when seeing Sue or Frankie or, god help them all, that amazing woman who'd made it to Stage Three on the Ninja Warrior series.

Oh yes, Vivian possibly had it in her to be bisexual, but privately Gail suspected whatever scars had been left on her by her father were insurmountable. And frankly, it didn't matter in the slightest to Gail. Her daughter, the one she'd chosen and cherished, was her daughter. And Gail adored her and would move heaven and earth for the girl. Just like Lily. Had Lily had a friend who understood, somewhat, the unexpected? Maybe there would have been less pain between Holly and Lily for those years.

Gail sighed. Chloe was staring at her own hands, so Gail just asked. "How come you're never come on the float?"

Chloe's head snapped up. "What?"

"The Pride Float. I mean, you're married, but you're still a bisexual, right?" When Chloe nodded, Gail gestured with one hand at Chloe and then herself. "So am I. You should be on the float next year. And you should come to events."

Chloe looked dumbfounded. "But you're married. To a woman! And I'm married to Dov, and— wait. I thought you said you were a lesbian!"

"Eh. I dated men, nearly married one, and I have a more than theoretical interest in them." Gail shrugged. Mostly she just liked confusing people. "You tell my mother I said that and I'll shoot you myself."

Holding up her hands, Chloe essayed a smile. "But ... still."

"Oh my god, just because you date men, you're still a bisexual, you moron!" Gail threw her hands up. "My god, you're an idiot sometimes."

One hand covered Chloe's mouth and she nodded. "Yeah." Her voice was thick and wet.

Gail narrowed her eyes. "Are you crying?"

Of course she was. "I'm not gonna ask you to hug me," said Chloe, but it was with a soft, thankful voice.

With a sigh, Gail got up and sat beside Chloe on the couch. She said nothing, but awkwardly held her arm up. After a heartbeat, Chloe fell into her, crying. It was a mixture of relief and fear. Recognition was always rough, and Gail still remembered how it had felt to have other people notice and accept her for who she was.

Right now, Chloe just needed a friend. Preferably one who well understood life. And they had, them and Andy, been the sides of the triangle. Three legacy cops. Two queer, one oh so straight. Three different career paths. Three women who understood the burden of their own names and ancestors.

"So. Will ... Will _she_ still be Chris?"

"They."

Gail blinked. They? Wait, no, she knew what that meant. Gail kicked her brain for the memory of the first time she'd heard that. It was before she'd met Holly. Someone they'd arrested. Andy had been on her little vacation after getting caught banging Swarek, so Gail and Traci had been hanging out a lot... And they'd picked up a kid for shoplifting.

Ah there it was. The kid dressed like a boy, had a license that said female, and firmly stated they were neither.

Years later, when Holly introduced Gail to an old friend from college, she'd surprised the doctor by knowing exactly what the term was.

"Chris is non-binary?"

Chloe sighed. "Apparently."

"So. They and them?"

Her friend nodded. "Yeah."

"Huh," said Gail. She squeezed Chloe around the shoulders and then let go, reclaiming her own personal space.

Chloe wiped her face with her sleeve. "It's going to take some getting used to," she admitted.

"Yeah, it will." Gail stretched her legs out. "Won't be the first one who's cop, though."

"I know." Chloe sighed and picked up the box of Kleenex. "Not even first at Fifteen."

"Hah, Chris at Fifteen? I've seen hi- their grades!"

After a heartbeat pause, Chloe smiled. "You know what? You failed your exam!"

"I threw my exam, there's a difference." Gail huffed and Chloe cracked up. "Are they still going to college?"

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. At least a couple years. I don't know if he— they need a degree."

"We have them, Andy doesn't. Consider our career versus hers."

With a laugh, Chloe pointed out the obvious. "Traci doesn't have one."

"No, but she got a GED, graduated early, and did two at Junior College, night school." Traci was, Gail readily agreed, a badass. "Anyway, if they start living openly like that now, they'll be more used to it all in two or four years. And we'll still be here."

"Oh? You think so?"

"Yeah. Four for sure. Five or six maybe not." Gail got up and went back to her desk, picking up her warm coffee. "And maybe college will make them change their mind. There's a lot more to our work than uniforms."

Chloe looked hopeful. "Mom's going to talk to them about that. I think they'd be better for social work but... It's their life, not mine."

Gail sighed. "I know."

"You don't still wish Viv went into science?"

"Every day. But it's her life, like I said." Gail shrugged. "Holly's mom flipped out when she went into pathology and forensics."

"What?"

"It's true. It was kinda more about not being as okay with gay as she thought she was, and they worked it out, but y'know... I think about the years they lost. And the ones I lost with my mom. Never got 'em back with Dad."

The waif like detective studied Gail's face quietly. "Thank you," Chloe said at length.

"Welcome. And if you need help with Dov, I'll kick his ass."

Chloe snorted. "I'm the one freaking out about my baby being hated by people."

"He is too," said Gail firmly, fully aware of things that went unsaid about Dov just then. Trouble in nerd paradise. "Just in a Dov sort of way."

"So an asshole."

Gail laughed. "Yeah, an asshole sort of way."

* * *

"Thank you for the cupcakes, Mom," said Vivian.

"Oh good. I worried Christian might eat them."

Her daughter snorted over the phone. "He wouldn't dare. Between you and Mom, he's terrified of you."

Holly laughed. "Possibly. Did Jamie like them?"

Vivian paused. "Was I supposed to save her one?"

"Vivian!"

"Mom! She's working fives right now. I won't see her for two more days."

Cracking up, Holly bumped the door to the laundry room open. "Did you at least tell her you got the spot?"

"I did. I texted her, and we're doing dinner when she's off and caught up."

"Well that's an improvement. Talking in person."

"Mom, we're okay right now." Vivian sighed loudly. "I mean it. We're okay."

"Hmm." Holly opened the dryer. "I'm your mother. It's my job to worry."

"I know. And I love you for it, but we're talking. About lots of stuff."

There was a strange pause. Nervous. Holly smiled. "Yeah?" She folded one of Gail's shirts. Why would Vivian be nervous. Well. Why else. "You know, I totally flubbed romance, asking Gail to move in with me."

Vivian groaned. "How the hell ..."

"I'm a mother. Apparently it's a power we gain."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"I know." Holly folded another shirt, giving Vivian time to grumble. "So. I was complaining she always had to go home to the frat house and get a uniform. And it would be easier if she lived with me."

Her daughter made a disgruntled noise. "Her roommate is moving out. So she kind of needs a place to move. And I only know because Ruby told me. But it's really fucking awkward to ask her since we just made up." She groaned. "I hate being an adult. Why was I in a rush to grow up?"

"Sex probably," said Holly sagely, and laughed when Vivian complained. "Oh come on, monkey. Tell her Ruby told you and ask her."

"I don't want to be in the doghouse again, Mom."

"Tell her. Communicate. Don't lie."

"Ugh. Fine. I will when she's off fives. Don't fuck with the mind of someone who runs into danger."

Holly snorted. "Is that a warning to me, my demolitions expert?"

Vivian laughed. "No, Mom. Unless I'm about to run into a building to cut a wire and save the mayor."

For some reason, Holly remembered Gail's panicked head shake and step back right before they went in to save Oliver. Oh. For years Holly had wondered what it really meant, what Gail really meant by it. And here was her grown up, comfortably lesbian (at least as comfortable as she ever got) daughter saying roughly the same thing. Cops had their zone, same as anyone else. And unlike Holly, who would be frustrated and have to start over, they had jobs with guns and bombs. Actual danger. Discombobulating them was very risky.

But all Holly said was a Mom reply. "I promise not to yank you out of the zone by mom washing your face, you filthy hoyden."

"Hah, Rich is filthy. He was on your grave digging detail."

Holly smiled. "Did he tell you he fell in?"

Vivian guffawed. "No. Is that really what happened? Did he compromise the evidence?"

"He did not." Holly smiled. "He fell into a prepped grave though."

"Please tell me you videoed that."

"It's possible," Holly said demurely. Laughing brightly, Vivian told Holly she loved her, to give Gail a kiss, and good night.

Speaking of Gail. Holly tapped her phone and checked where her wayward wife was. Work. Texting the detective, she asked when Gail might be home. It was rare that Gail's work kept her hours and hours away anymore. Gail perfected the ability to go home 'on time' a decade before. Still, sometimes work was work, and normally Gail texted to give Holly an update.

Instead of a reply, however, Holly heard the garage door.

"Well that is one answer," she told herself, and finished sorting the laundry. "Hey, honey. Did you eat?"

"Nope," grumbled Gail, and she thudded up the stairs.

Hm. That sounded bad. Holly followed up the stairs. "Let me put this away, and I'll feed you. Go shower."

From the office, Gail made a noise that was probably agreement. Work ended poorly, and Gail was likely to have to work later. With that in mind, Holly pulled out the fixings for hamburgers. This level of distracted Gail was often akin to not having her around at all.

"I hate paperwork!" Gail shouted as she came back down the stairs.

"Word," Holly shouted back.

"And people!"

"Same!"

Then more quietly, Gail said, "I'm glad I married you."

Holly grinned. "Get some wine?"

"Sure. But..." And Gail tapped her shoulder. "I didn't say hi yet." Carefully putting the spatula down, Holly turned and smiled, kissing Gail gently. "Hi," said Gail, softly.

"Hi. Bad day?"

"Eh. I got caught up checking on the bylaws of gender identity, employment, and self identification at work."

"Wow," said Holly, surprised. "That sounds like nothing but paperwork. Did someone come out?"

"Yeah, Chris Epstein." Gail got out the wine. "They're non-binary."

Were they just getting around to worrying about that now? Well, Chris was starting university next year. Maybe it was all just starting to feel real. "And...?" Holly trailed off when she noticed the glare from Gail. "I wasn't supposed to know?"

"How the fuck did you know?"

"Uh, I have eyes?" Holly checked the meat and flipped it. "Honey, I've watched Chris grow up. It's like being shocked that Vivian was gay."

"Which you were."

Holly snorted. "Was not. Just surprised she had a crush on Liv."

"Potato, tomato."

"Anyway, Peck! Chris, non-binary, totes spotted that. Next you're gonna try and be all shocking and tell me Jerry's pansexual."

Gail's laughter was bright and warm.

They didn't talk about serious things for the rest of the night. That was alright. They talked about a movie they wanted to see, and the rumors about a tv show they liked. They joked about Vivian eating all the cupcakes and how they'd have to send more when Jamie was back. They made plans for the next operas and ballets to see. They cuddled on the couch and watched a sports game.

They had a normal night.

The next day was, for Holly at least, abnormal.

She stared at the tomb in her table. It had taken her until lunch to get it out and ready. But there, finally, was her first exhumation for her head basher case. Technically the exhumation had been the day before. They'd worked through multiple bodies over the last year, carefully selecting ones to investigate. But finally they had one that looked like it was indeed the body they were looking for.

Pulling up the mortuary notes, Holly skimmed as she went through the routines. The only difference from normal was her two rookies. A wastrel named Goff whom Gail promised was just an idiot and a Mountie named Brice. The Mountie was in charge of the cop side of things, and had told Goff to shut up earlier.

"You boys might want to put a mask on," said Holly. "I'm going to crack the tomb now."

Brice picked up a face filter and put it on. Only when Holly did the same did Goff realize how serious she was.

Back in the old days, they needed heavy cranes and pry bars to open the coffins. As of a few years back, they advances in science had made it easy. Holly had a machine that did it all and a technician who operated the machine. She beamed, watching the lid be carefully removed. A waft of death flowed out, sucked up by the air filter.

Holly didn't dislike the smell. She didn't _like_ it, but it didn't offend her. It was, simply, the smell that was there with death. It was the smell of her work.

"Dr. Stewart, the machine is yours." Her technician stepped back.

Legally, she had to perform the final action. It constituted tapping a button. The lid swung away on the predefined route and was settled onto the second table. She grinned at the casket. "Alright. Dr. Holly Stewart, beginning autopsy. Confirming cause of death as blunt force trauma." Holly ran through the setup by rote. She did this work weekly. At one point it had been daily. It was her bread and butter for years.

The camera on the track followed her as she used the machine to carefully remove the body and began to process it with her three assistants. They removed the clothes, inspecting and tagging everything. Each item would be reviewed individually. Evidence had waited for years, and now it would be processed. But first they had to get it off cleanly.

Finally, though, the body lay naked before them. "Alrighty," muttered Holly. "Dr. Ames, the clothes and coffin are yours."

Ananda rolled her eyes. "Yippie. Enjoy your smelly body, Dr. Stewart."

Holly grinned. Ananda had drawn the short straw when it came to the evidence collection. They did not expect anything useful from the clothes or the liners, but those still had to be gone over and reviewed. Hairs and prints and anything abnormal had to be catalogued. That was how science and forensics worked. Record everything.

On the other hand, Holly had the fun job of going over the dead body, top to bottom. Or bottom to top. Holly liked to start at the feet. After all, she had confirmed the cause of death already, so now it was a chance to see how exact a job the mortuary had done, cleaning the body.

Part of why they'd picked this body was the history of the particular mortuary. Cost cutting, cheap funerals. They'd been shut down by Frankie for improper disposal of remains. So when Holly saw their name on the list, she'd fast tracked this body. Starting with the feet, which were hidden from sight even in a viewing, she checked the soles and then between the toes. Clean.

Damn it.

Meticulously, Holly worked her way up, checking ever inch and crevice (yes, every single one). She photographed, zoomed in, and plucked debris from knees and elbows. Finally she made it to the head however. Thus far, everything had been obvious and distressingly clean. But the head... She frowned.

"Taylor, does that look weird to you?"

Her assistant, Taylor Glinta, blinked and looked over. "Is that putty?"

"Yes. That's normal. It's this... Paper?" Taylor handed it over and Holly placed it under the dead man's head. She picked up a comb and ran it through the hair. Flakes of dirt came out.

"What the fuck... They washed his feet but not his hair?"

The putty was, as Holly said, normal. Often a putty was used to pad out a head injury like they had. Wool was more common, but it depended on the era. The filthy hair, though. "What color was his hair?"

"Uh, says grey/black." Taylor sounded unsure. "Okay. So maybe it got dirty after?"

"We'll have Ananda run a sample," Holly said firmly. "We have the dirt from the coffin. She can compare it to the trace inside and out."

"I'm on it, Dr. Stewart." And Taylor obediently took the sample, catalogued it, and labeled it for what was needed next.

Holly pulled over the high resolution magnifier and studied the wound. "I believe I have a bone chip..." She picked up tweezers and carefully extracted a sliver of what she felt confident in identifying as bone. "Look at that color."

"Brown? Is it old?" Taylor was inquisitive.

"Yes, but one of the officers had an idea. Theory. Treating the bone to make it more durable. Less friable."

Taylor made a noise. "Well. If I was going to do it, I'd use wax."

"What?" Holly blinked and looked up.

"Rub the bone with wax. Or maybe oil. It would discolor it, though, so I guess that officer's right." Taylor shrugged and held out a sample jar. "Doesn't match the patina on the skull bone. Man, these guys did a shit job on making the head look normal."

Filing away the idea of oil and wax as something to experiment on later, Holly nodded. "They apparently had a closed casket. The putty was a failed attempt."

Taylor's face fell. "Talk about compromised evidence."

"Well." Holly smiled and raised the table to get a better look. "That's interesting," she muttered and got fresh tweezers to extract a grey fiber.

"Looks like wool."

"It happens."

"On a man who died in August?"

She shared a look with her employee. "There's winter and summer weight wool."

"It could be another attempt to fix the skull," essayed Taylor, carefully.

"Grey?"

"It's a stretch, Doc."

"Here's another. Test these against the samples from anyone else we have with a toque."

Taylor looked nervous. "You really think we can follow toques and bones to find these guys?"

Holly canted her head to one side. "Yes. I do. I believe in science and patterns, Dr. Glinta, and so do you."

With a deep sigh, Taylor nodded and labeled the sample. "What should I test that against?"

Frustrated, Holly bit out her answer. "The other toques—"

"No, sorry. That." And Taylor gestured at the head. "By his ear?"

Ear? Holly stared at the skull and then blinked. Something didn't match. She turned the light up and saw. Long whiteish hair... All the hairs on the head where white, but this one was just slightly off. "Jesus... What the hell is your vision, Taylor?"

"20/20. But my color acuity is pretty awesome. I can see extra colors."

"You're tetrachromatic? Shut up!" Holly was delighted. "Put that shit down on your skills, Tay!"

The pathologist blushed. "That's blonde, right?"

"You bet your ass it is." She carefully extracted the hair and sucked in a breath. "And that's a tag. Son of a bitch."

"Holy fuck," said Taylor. "Here." Taylor stuck out a sample jar. "I'm expediting this one."

A new voice spoke up. "Excuse me, doctors. But what exactly did you find?"

Holly looked up at the young Mountie. "A hair with a skin tag still attached." She paused. "Do I need to explain why that's important?" While they could run DNA checks on hair without skin tags, it was chancy.

The young man shook his head. "But... Do you have anything to compare it to?"

And there Holly beamed. "Besides CODIS?"

"I mean... You don't have another sample do you?"

"We have DNA from fingernails, actually." It was worth it just to see the look of shock on the man's face. "The first body we exhumed, before we really knew we were on to something, had some skin under the nails. It dates from the same time period as this gentleman, so I'm hoping to find a connection between them."

Of course it was a long shot and Holly knew it. Everyone knew it. There were four identified individuals in that time frame already, which gave her at best a 25% chance. Reality was worse.

Between the bone fragments and the hair, though...

There was nothing else to note in the autopsy itself, so Holly signed off on the samples and watched Taylor whisk them away. Once the body was back in storage, Holly washed up and went to her office to file her own report. It was anticlimactic at this point. She had to wait for results, and she just wanted them now.

It was not until the end of the day, right as she was packing up to go home, that her email pinged with the alert of lab results. Holly hesitated a moment before opening her email.

The first page was of the bone chip, for it indeed was human bone, and it did not match the body. External. The murder weapon, mostly likely. They would compare it to the leg bones found in other locations. The second page held data on the grey fiber. It was wool, as she'd thought, and it was a match to some of the toques they'd collected on other bodies.

God. They'd found the pattern. They were right. She had picked, of all the possible bodies, the right one.

Holly scrolled to the last pages. The ones about the hair. The ones that said the samples had not degraded too much. The tag was viable. They'd processed it and fast tracked it against the skin found under the nails of another dead man.

Holly held her breath as she read the results. Yes. Yes. Yes. It matched.

One hair. One, single, solitary hair. It matched the body. One hair left in the fabric of a toque shoved onto a man's head. A blonde hair that was long and didn't match the color of the dead man. A hair that early forensics would not have known what to do with, and likely would have thrown out.

One damn hair.

And it matched the damn skin sample.

And now they had a name.

They had a match. They had a name. They had two killers' names now. Two people.

Heinrich Hann, the man who killed Bethany Mills, and now Rene Peya.

* * *

Stretching out in her bed, alone, felt weird. Vivian draped herself over the bed diagonally, how Holly normally slept, and tapped her phone. The last message from Jamie was that afternoon. The crew had taken a call, it was a small fire, Jamie was fine but was planning on sleeping at the station as long as possible.

Still, Vivian checked with her own police app to see what the status on everything was. Could anyone blame her? Gail would probably have advice on how to better sneak some information. So would Elaine.

Hm. Vivian tapped her grandmother's number and texted.

_I made ETF. And I'm thinking about asking Jamie to move in with me._

Her friends made fun of her for using proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling when texting. The truth was that her grandmother would never reply unless she did. So, in order to communicate with her family, Vivian got used to it and by the time she was an adult, it was second nature.

The phone pinged a reply.

_I know about both. My spies told me._

_Which Mom leaked?_

_Neither. Oliver._

_That asshole! Who told Ollie?_

_Probably Gail. You should ask Jamie. I like her._

_It's a big ask._

_What does your roommate think?_

_Good point. I'll ask him._

She rolled off the bed and padded down the hall. Christian was watching a basketball game. "Hey, C. Quick question."

The man looked up. "I bought more detergent. The good stuff."

"Not that." Vivian paused. "Um. It's about Jamie."

Christian frowned. "Did you break up?"

"Jesus! No!"

"Oh good. I like her." Christian took a moment and then asked, "Are you kicking me out so you can have a sweet, lady lovin' pad with her?"

"Uh. Funny thing. No." Vivian grimaced and sat on the couch. "I want to ask ... Uh. Her. To move in. Here." She glanced over and saw her friend smirking. "You are an asshole, C, you know that, right?"

The dark haired cop burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you are adorable when you try to girl."

"Bite me," she snapped.

"No, I like my nose where it is." He quickly held up his hands for protection. "Serious, though. You want her to move in?"

Dismissing the idea of punching him, Vivian nodded. "Yeah. I am. And I'm not, y'know, asking you to leave."

"Oh! It's like the frat pad Gail and Dov had!"

"God, you... Frat House, and ... Maybe?" Vivian grumbled. "I hate this conversation. I'm going back to my room."

As she stood up, Christian grabbed her shirt bottom and tugged. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm just... You don't usually get all girl like this, and it's really nice to see how much you like her."

The blush went right up her neck and warmed her ears. "I do."

It wasn't like books (or Andy) described falling in love. There wasn't an overwhelmingly powerful feeling, where she felt something for Jamie that she'd never felt before. Certainly Vivian had seen hundreds of attractive women. In fact, it got to the point that she thought her mothers had some sort of deal with a devil to only have highly attractive friends. And it wasn't that looking at Jamie made her feel any different (just gay).

No the difference between Jamie and the other girls she'd dated was how Jamie made her feel when they were together.

Vivian desperately needed her own space in bed. Not like Holly the bed hog, who really wanted to cuddle or touch. And not like Gail the premie who hated touching except when it was someone she trusted. No, Vivian just didn't like being held, or crowded up on in bed. It was one thing to be in the bed with her parents. They drifted together and gave her space. The various girls she'd dated tended to cuddle.

And God bless her, Jamie just understood the space thing. She didn't mind, she didn't press. She just accepted it for what it was and still liked Vivian. There was no need to try and explain the comforting feeling of someone there and around without being smothered.

Christian just grinned at her. "Viv. You like her. If she's cool with living here with us, I'm for it. If she wants me to move out... Well. Gimme time to find a new place, right?"

She blinked at her friend. "Why are you being this cool?"

"Because. I fucked up our friendship, and that was 100% on me, and ... Make this my big grand gesture?"

"This is the bromance version of a boombox over your head?"

"Dude, I'm your LezBro."

"Ew. Never say that again!" She swatted at Christian and he laughed. "Okay." Then she added, quietly, "Thank you."

Christian nodded. "Welcome. Can I ruin this tender moment?"

"God, please."

"How's ETF?"

Vivian grinned ear to ear. It actually, physically, hurt to smile. "Boring," she said quite honestly. Thus far it had consisted of being reminded of rules and regulations, while being told over and over that she was the rookie and not to screw things up. Vivian had yet to do anything substantial. "I get checked out on Rover tomorrow, though."

"That the robot?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "It's safe for rookies, y'know."

Her friend snorted. "It's also crazy hard. Do you get to pilot the drones?" When she shrugged, he laughed. "Give up, you are not Gail. That is _not_ her shrug. You are nowhere near as cool as your mom."

"Who is?" Vivian laughed as well. "Yes, I get to pilot the drones, and yes it's cool."

The next day, though, instead of running right into more drone training, Vivian was dragged into an office with Sue and Jules (no one called him Sgt. Smith after the first week, and even he encouraged Vivian to use his nickname — they were a team).

"Boom Peck. McNally's office," shouted Jules as Vivian walked in to Fifteen.

"Boom Peck?" Lara smirked.

"Boss Peck, Nash Peck, Wet Peck, Boom Peck," said Vivian and she shrugged. "I kinda like it."

"What do they call your cousin the fireman?"

"Fire Peck, what else?" Vivian grinned and trotted into the office, still holding her motorcycle helmet. "Ma'ams, sir."

Jules was draped over the couch while Sue perched on the desk itself. "Peck, I have heard you're familiar with the Safary case," said Jules, sternly.

"Uh. Somewhat, sir."

"You and Volk found the storage cache? Identified it as bombs?"

She nodded quickly. "Oh, yes sir."

"And you met the woman?"

"Yes, but —"

"And you and Volk tracked things down for Swarek?"

Vivian hesitated. "Yes, but we were following Sgt. Swarek's lead, sir."

Jules waved his hand. "I'm sending you the bomb breakdowns on Safary. I want you, Duane, and Sabrina to know her markers inside and out."

"Me?"

Sue sighed. "Peck, by happenstance, you've run into more of Safary's cases than anyone else. That bomb in the zoo?"

That was news to Vivian. "Oh. Wow. That was ... Um. Okay."

"And you worked with Holly— Dr. Stewart on the reproductions." Sue shrugged. "The only concern we really have is nepotism. Since Gail's taken over the case herself."

Now Andy spoke up. "Gail's pretty good at that, though. Not being a Peck like that." The sergeant smiled. "If you don't think there's a problem in ETF with it, we'll be okay."

Sue smirked. "You kidding? They all watched this idiot scale the wall like she had suction cups on."

Vivian said nothing to that. It had been the regular wall at the training center, and it was a simple wall. It wasn't even a grade three, and frankly Vivian had been seriously climbing since she was thirteen and didn't really understand why Holly went and got somewhat freaked about it. The free soloing over the lake up at the cottage had not, in retrospect, been a smart move. She'd been a pre-teen and a little invincible.

On her first day, they'd dragged her to the main building with her new kit and told her to scale the wall and set a shaped charge. It was just a show-off thing, to prove she earned her spot. Everyone had done it. Vivian remembered when Duane did it and bragged until Sabrina beat his time.

While Vivian had not bested Sabrina's top time, she demonstrated technique and set a new rookie time for a first attempt. For someone who'd been clambering up the insane obstacles Ningymnastics came up with for over a decade, a wall with windows and spots to avoid was a walk in the park.

Today wasn't that day. Today was up and down and up and down over and over until she was ready to puke. Then it was papers and studies and reading. And then then wall again. It was to do everything, all at once. Learn everything, train in everything, excel at everything. Or at least as much as she could in a ten hour day. And it was draining.

Dragging herself home and dropping her gear on the floor, Vivian grimaced. She needed a shower and a nap and some food, she had to clean the house and do laundry and probably go shopping since it was her turn, and she wanted it all to be magically done for her.

Why did she think moving out was a good idea? Gail and Holly made everything look so easy and effortless. They'd never hired a cleaning service (except up at the cottage), they just took care of life. They cleaned on the weekends, and some weekdays. Vacuuming regularly, sweeping, mopping, doing the laundry. And they just made it look like anyone could balance life and work and things they had to do.

Right now, Vivian was so tired, she wanted to give up and move back in.

Except.

There were shopping bags on the counter and Christian and Jamie were laughing about something.

"Uh, what day is it?" Vivian eyed the kitchen.

"Told you she was baked," said Christian, knowingly.

"First week is the worst." The firefighter sounded understanding. "My first three on crew? God, I wanted to sleep a week."

"Yeah? What'd you do?"

"Came home and found out we'd had a break in and some fuckface stole my laptop. Spent my whole off time dealing with that." Jamie held up a glass of something that looked nasty. "Come on. Drink this, shower, and go to sleep. You'll feel better."

Vivian walked in a stupor over to the breakfast bar. "I'm very confused."

The drink went down in front of her and Jamie hoisted herself up to lean over and kiss Vivian softly. "We had a really quiet couple days. I asked C how you were holding up and decided you needed a hand."

"It's Wednesday right?" Vivian picked up the drink and sipped it. "Oh my _god_ this is disgusting!"

"It's from Celery."

Vivian stared at her girlfriend. "You went to Ollie's house?"

"Can you think of anyone better to help with a grumpy Peck?" Jamie looked far too pleased with herself. "Desert is on the counter. Celery says you should come have a massage. And she offered me a free one. Totally taking her up on it."

The world felt a little odd. "Jesus..." Vivian sipped the drink again, gagged a little, and then said, "Life is going to be so much nicer when you move in."

And the room went silent.

Oh. That's why Holly wanted to kick herself for how she asked Gail to move in. The feeling of stupid just settled over Vivian. Her ears burned. This was not the way a person should ask their girlfriend serious questions. Her mouth worked, trying to figure out what the hell to say, but she came up with nothing.

Jamie turned to Christian. "Is she for real?"

"Oh, yeah." Christian nodded. "She's been overthinking the hell out of it for like a week. I think she asked Miss Elaine."

Vivian covered her face with both her hands. "Oh my god," she muttered.

"She did so well giving me a key," said Jamie, amused.

"How did she do that?"

"Christmas present."

"Oh," said Christian. "That's good."

The stool beside Vivian moved and she heard Jamie sigh, amused. "You are amazingly bad at this stuff."

"I'm aware." Vivian grimaced and did not look up. A hand gently tugged at one of hers. "Can I try that again?"

"You sure you want to risk it?" Jamie was teasing her. Even though Vivian had just fumbled the question so terribly, it was Andy McNally levels of historical stupidity, Jamie was still there, still smiling, with a face that said no matter how badly Vivian phrased herself, the answer was going to be yes.

Vivian shook her head and took her other hand off her face. "I would ... Um." She stopped and looked at Christian. "C, could you, y'know ... Go?" Her friend held his hands up and retreated to his room, throwing her a thumbs up as he closed the door. "Okay. So I know we only just got back together. But. I like you. And I'm pretty sure you like me. And I'd like to try us living together."

Jamie arched her eyebrows. "I think the first one was better. Have you considered something like 'Jamie, move in with me' or anything less rambled?"

"No," admitted Vivian. And the words tumbled right out. "Every time I think about it, I get tangled up in these long explanations. Like... I don't like cuddling, or people all up in my space, even in bed. And then, I kind of like the couple mornings when I'm not really awake, and you're asleep, and there's this ... This haze. This really comfortable feeling where you're there and it's okay and we're an us... And I like that. A lot. I'd like to keep it."

Reaching over, Jamie covered Vivian's mouth with a hand. "Stop there. That was good." When Vivian nodded, Jamie grinned and took her hand back. "What about C?"

"He offered to move out."

Jamie made a face. "That's stupid. He should stay. We'll be all _Three's Company_. He can be Larry."

Vivian blinked. "I have no idea what you're saying..."

"Oh, my sweet TV ignoramus," she said, before sighing dramatically and kissing Vivian languidly. "I'm saying yes, I'll move in. And Christian should stay. God knows he's already heard us having sex."

"Sorry about that," muttered Vivian. She was actually a little embarrassed about that, seeing as he'd not been home when they'd started, but things had gotten rather loud.

"I'm not," said Jamie, firmly. "Thing is, he isn't all straight dude about it. So ... Yeah. Let's do this."

Slowly, uncertainly, Vivian broke into a smile. Yes. She said yes. Jamie said yes. This was them, successfully progressing to adult. Vivian was still smiling when she leaned in to kiss Jamie. "Okay. But I'm not drinking that nasty thing."

Jamie laughed. A bright and cheerful laugh. A laugh Vivian hoped she'd get to hear for a long time to come.

* * *

Yawning, Gail covered her mouth. The morning meetings were killing her.

"Peck, sorry we're boring you," said the head of OC. "Care to update us?"

She rolled her eyes and did not rise to the bait. "I have a few cases of note," Gail said in her best drawl. "The murder of Dr. Gray Kettler, astronaut, was closed on Monday. Sgt. Anderson got a confession. She's also thinking about hanging up her badge, so if we want to keep her, we should consider a little sweet talk." She glanced at the Rep from Thirty-Four who nodded. "I took over Safary from Swarek at Twenty-Seven. We've got some leads but she's organized as fuck so it's slow. Still I've got a couple theories and I've sent the unis to hunt them down. And... Sgt. Simmons is working on our whack-a-moles. Dr. Stewart ID'd a second attacker on Wednesday, which was confirmed last night as the killer for six of the victims. Simmons is triangulating the data to see if we can connect them."

A murmur ran through the room. The news about the head bashers was a surprise. Gail smiled a little evilly at her boss, pleased to see him flush in anger. "Damn it, Peck. I should know not to poke the bear," he muttered.

"You really should," said the head of homicide, this close to laughter. "Damn, Peck. That family luck is insane."

"Chance favors the prepared." Gail wanted to sing the words, but settled for just smirking.

"I'd accuse you of sniping Safary, but ... How many hands has been on that case?" The head of OC scowled.

"Most of 'em. Swarek played too heavy," she explained.

Everyone looked at the rep from Twenty-Seven. "SIU checked and cleared him, but recommended he be ... They recommended he be eased down."

The room winced, collectively. That meant be fired. Across from Gail, the IA rep sighed. "I'll follow up. He's old enough to make it a normal retirement in six if we play it right."

"Will he?" The rep from Sam's station looked unsure.

"He will." That was Superintendent Dodge. Gail's man now, which had made Elaine laugh so hard she wheezed. The very idea that Gail had started collecting minions to do what she wanted was hilarious to the former Super.

Well. That was that. The rest of the meeting went by without issue, but as Gail headed out, Dodge caught her eye. "Something on your mind, Dodge?"

"Swarek. He did you guys a solid when you found that body last year?" He didn't need to say which one. "How tight is he with Fifteen right now?"

Gail frowned. "Not really. Before he left, he was on the edge, but he burned his bridge."

Dodge nodded. "But you two are okay? Historically?"

"He cut my tie." Gail lifted her shoulders. "He's an ass, but yeah, we're okay. Why?"

"You want to be there?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Did Gail want to be there when Sam Swarek was encouraged to retire, lest he be fired. "No," she said firmly. "It's not personal, but if I'm there, it will be."

Dodge nodded. "Thought I'd ask. It'll be next quarter though. No point in rushing."

"Talk to Three Four, Dodge. He's not even OC, so he's not mine."

It wasn't really true though. Swarek wasn't in her cadre of minions, he'd done that damage himself. But at the same time, he'd been Fifteen's. The day the transfer was announced, Oliver had come over and sat with Gail on her porch. The then Inspector of Fifteen had wanted to cry. Sammy was one of his. A good man, a good cop, and yet he'd somehow walked astray.

Oliver blamed himself. Maybe if he'd been a better example, Sammy wouldn't have screwed up. And Gail carried her own guilt. Should she have told McNally sooner? She could have approached Swarek when Holly had expressed her doubts, because God knew Holly wasn't often wrong about things. Maybe it was even older than that... Maybe if Jerry hadn't died...

Everyone carried scars like that.

As they'd talked, though, that day years ago, Holly had come out and sat with them. Taking Gail's hand, she quietly said that Oliver had been why Sam was so good. Why Gail was so good. He'd taken two broken people, two young adults desperately seeing validation and terrified at the pain of rejection, and turned them into functional adults who could carry the weight of the world.

Gail and Andy and Dov and Traci and Chris had all carried their demons with them. Oliver had helped them overcome. He'd done the same with dozens of cops. In no way, Holly said, had Oliver failed with Sam. No, Oliver had done an amazing job. Sam had made his choices.

What would Oliver say now? What would Holly say?

Retreating to her office, Gail closed the door and dialed a number she knew by heart.

"Hey, darlin'! Your kid is adorable."

Gail blinked. "Why do I think you know something I don't?"

"That's 'cause I'm a more experienced dad."

"Pretty sure I'm a mom."

"Pretty sure your mug says otherwise."

Grinning, Gail picked up the mug in question. "Alright. What'd she do?"

" _Her_ girlfriend called me about asking how to get you picky Pecks to feel like folks cared." And Oliver explained how Jamie had been sure Vivian would be overworked and exhausted. She wanted to do something nice, something she'd wanted her first turn on a crew, and that was cleaning and food. But. What would be best for Vivian.

Part of Gail was hurt that Jamie had called Oliver and not her or Holly. The greater part of her recognized that Jamie already caught on how to get Pecks out of trees. And Jamie knew what Vivian needed. And Jamie wanted to do what Vivian needed.

What had Holly said? It was like her heart had flown away.

"How'd it work out?"

"Your baby Peck called to tell me thanks."

Hm. Gail would have to check in. "She's been dithering about asking Jamie to move in."

Oliver made his happy-dad noise. "She should. Jamie's adorable and sweet and cute. Celery approves."

"Well hell, if your witchy wife approves, we all should." Gail laughed.

"It's true! It's true." Oliver sighed. "So what's the bad news?"

Gail winced. "How do you do that?"

"You're calling me before lunch on a day I know you're working, my darlin' petulant one."

With a sigh, Gail put her feet on her desk. "This is between you and me." Oliver made a zip sound. "Sam. We're gonna be asking him to hang it up."

Oliver sighed deeply. "It's the thing with that bomber, huh?"

"Yeah. And ... He's been weird since the Hill gang folded. Obsessed. It's coming out bad."

"You gave him Safary to let him chew out, didn't you?" When Gail didn't reply right away, Oliver sighed again. "You did that for me, huh?"

"No," she admitted. "I did it because... Sam was the first one, besides you, who didn't see me as a Peck. He listened when I talked."

"Huh." There was a clack of a mug. "I remember, years and years ago, seein' you in his truck."

"Oh. That was about McNally actually," said Gail, sheepishly. "And what do you do after being ... Um ..." She paused. "That was after I was suspended, Ollie."

Her friend, her oldest friend on the planet, made a sound of understanding. "After you've been disgraced? Yeah. I wish I'd beat you to that."

Because it was Gail who'd been kidnapped first. It was Gail who'd been suspended and disgraced first. So while both she and Oliver had been absolved of any wrongdoing, they both felt the lingering shame of it all. And Sam? Sam Swarek lived his career on the edge of acceptance. He was always doubted and untrusted and edgy. So when Gail had been ditched by Nick for that stupid UC op, and she'd been allowed to stay a cop by a technicality, the only person to turn to for advice was Sam.

"Kinda glad you didn't, Ollie. You'd never let me go if you had."

He sighed. "It made me a better cop, you know. Made me think about different things."

Gail did not share the sentiment, but didn't challenge him. "Think you'll be able to help Sam? I kinda don't think he'll take it well."

"Yeah." Oliver agreed, his voice quiet and restrained. "Yeah. I can. I will. When?"

"Couple months probably. But it's for certain."

"No point in rushing," said Oliver, echoing Dodge. "Thanks for giving me a heads up."

"No problem—"

"Hey. Gail? Say 'you're welcome' okay?"

She smiled at the phone. "You're welcome, Ollie. Thanks for being there for me."

"You're welcome, kiddo. You're my favorite."

"Love you too, Ollie."

They hung up and Gail grimaced. She hated being an adult sometimes. Why couldn't she be twenty something, get drunk, play video games, and be generally awesome? Well. That Gail was also a moron, self involved, egomaniacal, and a right asshole. A bitch. And not in the good way.

Maybe she could convince Holly to play Mega-Death Dominion with her. Holly wasn't great at video games, though, and Dov had stopped playing them years ago. Once in a while, Steve would want to play, but he was so out of practice it was an easy ass kicking. No, the only decent challengers were Leo (in Texas now, and happy), Gerald (not gonna happen), and Vivian.

If Gail called her kid, it would be to ask if Vivian had actually asked Jamie to move in. Or it would be about the Safary case. Which she was supposed to be working on. Gail grimaced and looked at the photo of her mother on the wall, currently sporting a pen out of her left eye.

What would Lucky Elaine Peck do? Superintendent Peck ... No. Detective Peck. Or maybe Detective Armstrong. She'd made detective before the name change. Though after the marriage. Huh.

In that moment, Gail realized her asshat grandfather probably denied Elaine's use of the name until she made detective. What a fuck face. He'd screwed up his kids so much. God. Maybe if her father hadn't had his emotions emasculated and ripped out, he'd have had an actual relationship with Gail, with Steve, with their wives. And Elaine... Elaine had worked so damn hard to win everything and just turned away and gave everything up for them.

It was a strength of will that Gail didn't know if she had. She'd like to think she did, that if given a choice between losing everything but making her kid happier, she'd pick the kid every time. But unlike Elaine, Gail knew Holly would be right there beside her. That kind of drive, the push to be better not as an example for her kid but to make a better world for her to live in, that was something Gail only felt after Sophie.

That had been her watershed moment. Suddenly she wanted the world to shit on kids less. While Gail was still narcissistic and self absorbed and greedy, she stopped putting herself first in all things. And just like being chosen second by Nick pushed her to really think about what love was and what it meant, watching Sophie lose everything to some morons made her realize how much the world needed people to make things better.

Both of those moments made her the person who could love Holly and deserve the reciprocation. Holly would probably disagree and tell her that she deserved everything. Then again, Holly loved her for everything she was. All the sharp and broken bits, Holly adored. Unlike everyone else, Holly saw past them and saw the real Gail, the one Gail hadn't even known was there, and loved her. Holly chose Gail first. And that made Gail the better for it.

She was inspired by Holly.

What inspired Safary?

What made someone target but (generally) not kill people? What were the common points of the companies and groups? Oh sure, they all were somewhat evil and untrustworthy, but how did someone find them!? The circus was easy, everyone knew they mistreated animals. That was _still_ not nationally banned, the use of animals in circuses.

When Vivian had been ten, she'd asked about going to the circus. Holly had refused, citing the horrible living conditions of the animals. That led to a conversation about the zoo. Gail adored the giant heart that came with Holly, the caring soul. It was the soul that inspired, but it was Gail's mind that directed it.

Who directed Safary? What inspired her? What connected the disparate targets? How did they get picked? Of all the horrible places and companies in Canada, why these? Was it a person? Was it a group? Why the tagging? If she labeled things then she wanted to be noticed. She wanted someone to see what she did and use it to change the world to the better.

"Attention seeking anonymous. Kinda reminds me of those idiot hackers," she said to herself.

That felt like a million years ago.

"Okay. So if I can't find why, I'd better narrow down where."

Gail turned her wall on and threw the map up. Look at things from a new angle. That's what Elaine would do. She would look at the places they'd found, filled with evidence. A storage locker on one side of town. A barn on another. The sand was taken from yet another location. She clearly used multiple locations for construction.

Build the electronic components in the storage room.

Build the stuffing from the straw and sand.

Where did she find the deodorant and paintballs in mass amounts?

Gail tapped that into her tablet, sending a request to the forensic accountant to dig into paintball and deodorant purchases. Then she tapped up paintball parks on her map and bulk warehouses. Another tap to get the storage unit. They'd already tried tracking her truck, the one she'd used at the barn, and that had been ditched in the middle of nowhere important... There. She tapped the wall to mark it.

Assume common trucks, like the one ditched. Their radius was 800 kilometers, generally speaking, but that was unladen. Drop it down to 600 and that was still a huge amount. But being pulled over with that load was something to be avoided. Instead it would have to be something closer, tighter, and easier to get to.

If it was Gail, she'd avoid the cctv cameras. Then again, Gail knew where they were throughout the city. That bit of intel had been easier to keep in her head when she'd been a rookie. Now, she cheated and used the police app. No doubt some enterprising people had crowdsourced the same results. Gail had to admire their ingenuity and sent an email to the tech labs inquiring about the possibility of some open sourced app that mimicked their own. She got an immediate reply listing four on public systems, three that used Googles API, and seven on the dark web that also tracked police movement.

So odds were high she could easily avoid cameras. Gail closed her eyes. "Hey, Siri. Map me a route from ..." She stopped and snorted. "Future ain't there yet." Picking up her smart marker, Gail circled the locations. Then she threw an overlay of the cctv cameras, and played a maze. It took her three tries to get it right.

"That looks smart," said John, opening her office door.

"That looks like a route I'm sending some unis on, to see if anyone has parking cameras and can spot us tapes."

"Good luck. Low income spots."

That usually meant the cameras were for show. She sighed. "Remember the look on Pedro's face when the guy told him he was using VHS." Gail laughed unkindly, and so did John.

"Swear to god, didn't know they still made 'em." John smirked. "O'course, they were making Betamax until 2015 or something. That's Safary, ain't it?"

"Ain't? Who are you and what did you do with John Simmons?"

"We got a lead on the head bashers. Looks like four of 'em were members of the same defunct men's church club. St. Columbanus. Slogan is "Men for Men." Which is kind of weird."

Gail frowned. "Who the fuck is St. Columbo? Patron saint of slovenly detectives?"

Her sergeant laughed. "Didn't you go to catholic school?" She flipped him off. "Columbanus. And motorcycles apparently."

Motorcycles.

"Well shit, John. I'd call that a bonafide lead."

"Except for the defunct part, but I've got a trail." The man was smiling though. "Thought you should know that Dr. Stewart's work was the opening. She got an ID on a killer from old ass evidence."

Gail snorted. "I expect no less from her, John. She's been after this case since we were just friends."

But after John left, still grinning, Gail found herself happier than she was in her own headspace. Because how could she not celebrate and enjoy the marvelous woman that was Dr. Holly Stewart? It was just impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a late addition. A breather chapter to slow things down and give a break from the rather crazy pace of the season. A little case progress, some big life changes, and finally sending Andy to therapy. This chapter covered a lot of smaller plot angles, much like the original episode of the same name.
> 
> Next chapter, a bomb, a fire, a hospital, and a cottage.


	31. 03.10 - The Girlfriend Experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phenomenally bad day causes Vivian to rethink her priorities and, after an injury on the job, she and Jamie go up to the Peck cottage for some much needed rest and relaxation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has absolutely nothing to do with kidnappings, Perik, or being undercover. I'm serious.
> 
> It is, however, a two part chapter. Because it got too long. In the good way.

There were days Vivian wanted the universe to implode.

Today was one of them.

It was supposed to be a normal day, with a call in to a building that was known for shootings and drugs, when someone reported a fire. Seeing the smoke, Rich and his partner for the day had quickly booked a retreat to the safe line and let the firefighters rush in.

Normal, when one's girlfriend was a firefighter, also meant seeing her station show up. And it was a semi-normal day, seeing her girlfriend kitted up with the rest, heading into a building. Normal, right? Jamie always did that. It was normal for the woman to run into fires, put them out, get people out, and come back out.

Normal was for Vivian and her ETF crew rolled up just in time to see the firefighters. And normal was for rookie Bomb Girl, Vivian Peck, to be kept at the back of the pack and on the tape line with Rich. Normal was getting teased by her classmate, asking if she was _really_ ETF. Normal was asking him if that was his gun or was he happy to see her.

Normal.

So when the explosion hit, Vivian felt her stomach drop.

"Holy Mary, mother of God," said Rich.

The upper windows of the building blew out, on one side only. Reflex had Vivian lifting her hand to where her radio used to sit. ETF didn't wear them on their shoulders. Her hand went to her radio, but her thumb refused to press the button. There was no air in her lungs, none fit to form a word at least. All she could really be sure of was that the firefighters were scrambling like mad.

A hand on hers stopped her from trying.

Sgt. Smith. His voice was calm and controlled. "Gas explosion. It's shut off now, but we're calling the building a loss. We radioed in for another bus. Gear up, Peck. They may need us."

Right. Her job now was this. "Yes, sir." Vivian was surprised to hear her own voice was calm.

"And get Rover ready." And he tossed her the controller.

Vivian bobbled her head. "Yes, sir." She could do that. It was something to concentrate on.

"What's Rover?" Rich sounded confused.

"Robot." Vivian turned on the controller and went to take the 'bot out of its box. "We have a camera and everything." It took a few minutes to set up, but she had Rover up and ready before Sgt. Smith was back. "Rover ready, sir."

The sergeant nodded. "Send it in. Radio to seven, but ears on Rover."

"Yes, sir." She turned her eyes to the monitor. Going through the motions was a great way not to think about the fact that her girlfriend was in there. Jamie did this every day. Well. Not every day. Still. Vivian trained for her bit, Jamie trained for hers. They had to trust.

Ignoring Rich, she focused on the remote control. Looking at the world via Rover's screen was difficult. The view was lower to the ground than humans saw, it didn't interpret sound like a human. Even with headphones on, the directional audio wasn't what she was used to yet. Vivian was sure that, eventually, she'd be accustomed to e new normal.

It was harder to pilot Rover through the smoke than she'd thought. The controlled situation of the tests Vivian had done in the staging rooms was wildly different. Vivian squinted, not that it helped, and tried to make sense of what she was seeing and hearing. This was, she had to admit, the most safe position for her. Rover was just there to check rooms. No bombs and no criminals. Just room checks.

Vivian had to admit that it was a good experience. A learning experience in a relatively safe scenario. Except for the part where her girlfriend was running around a structural fire. This was probably how Holly felt when Gail was off doing something crazy. Or when Vivian was. Oh, fine. Karma.

Her radio squawked. "Anyone got eyes on McGann and Silver?"

She felt a chill. Jamie and her partner, Jesús Silver, were still in there and now they couldn't find them. Panic ran through her, followed by a moment of clarity. Okay. She had Rover. Rover could make it up stairs. Jamie was upstairs, clearing the rooms. Carefully she steered Rover to the front stairs and grimaced. They were too unstable but it would take too long to go around.

"God, how much trouble will I be in if I break Rover?" It was rhetorical.

She sent her robot up the steps and cranked the audio. Fire cracklings. Creaks. The sound of burning. If Vivian was there, she'd close her eyes and use the ambiance to direct her. Instead, she had to use the visual and audio from Rover. Slowly panning clockwise, she checked the open doors. How did Jamie said they marked doors? Nope, couldn't remember.

Logically, they'd go back to front, wouldn't they? Double out to the furthest from the stairs so they could come back down at the end? Right, so start near and head deep, backtrack until she found them. As she started down the hallway, Rover's video and audio started to go wonky. Vivian carefully adjusted the settings, trying to clear it up.

That was when she heard it.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The sound was soft and subtle. It was weird. She looked at the audio playback and tapped the screen. Directions. Audible. Vivian replayed it. Doing the math wasn't easy. It required assumptions and guesswork. But in theory she could triangulate the location source of the sound, which was likely from wherever the hell the missing firefighters were.

Where her girlfriend was.

"4727! Found 'em!" Damn it. Calling out with her badge first was habit. "I mean. Crap. Peck, I got eyes on the firefighters."

Sgt. Smith was on the radio in a flash. "Details, Peck!"

She took it all in. It was too smokey and the video quality was still shit. Like circa 2005 cell phones videos. Jerky and it cut out. That meant the digital signal was being interrupted by the level of heat between them. And probably the building walls. Vivian adjusted the feed until it stabilized.

What she saw was bad. "Second floor. Silvers is down. McGann's pulling his kit off and pairing their rebreathers. She's hitting her radio but I can't hear her."

"Copy, we have no signal from their beacons. What's Silvers look like?"

"Uh, he's smoking. In ... He has some plastic shit burning on his legs."

A new voice cut in, someone familiar but not one Vivian knew well enough to ID. Probably a firefighter. "Tertiary fire. We can see it out the window. Peck, can you lead 'em out?"

"Uh, yes. I can, but the stairs are pretty shit already."

"Back exit's compromised. We're getting a ladder to the south, but the stairs would be best."

"Copy." Vivian chewed her lip and flashed the lights on Rover. Jamie flashed a thumbs up at Rover and then hefted Silvers (Jesús! Right!) into a fireman's carry. It was impressive, she had to admit. "McGann's got Silvers, we're headed down."

With the headlights on, Rover went first. Vivian turned the flash on, so it would be easier (she hoped) for others to spot. The stairwell was going to take them right to the front door, so at least it would be quick to get her out. Them out.

Vivian had no idea why she was so calm about this. Her girlfriend was carrying a man who had some plastic shit melting on him, through a building on fire, when they had no idea how the fire started. And yet, she felt like it was all in control and she could handle everything.

Which was why there was a third explosion and the video dropped. No. No Rover dropped. At least five feet. The little robot fell, tumbled before the gyros caught up and it stabilized. The color on the screen changed, the grey smoke was whited out with... Dust? Vivian swore and read the screens. Sound was coming back, video was back to original levels.

"Peck, what the hell happened?!"

"Rover dropped, sir," she replied, hands running over the controls. Vivian focused the camera back and was stunned. "Fuck, it was the stairs! The support post. There was a .. A shaped charge. Blew out the post and dropped the stairs."

"Right, could be timed, could be triggered. Treat it like a hot scene, Blue Squad, take point. Peck, keep eyes on the firemen, but look for a camera or anything the UnSub could have used."

"Yes, sir!"

Now the panic started to claw its way up her spine. Now Vivian felt, tasted, vomit in her throat. Where the hell was Jamie? She flipped the running lights until she saw a flash. Yes! That fireproof gear had reflective fabric! Vivian toggled the flashing lights and then set up the beacon. "Eyes on! They're not moving. Rover's one foot left— south of them."

The rest happened in a rush. First the rest of Station Four went in for their guys. Then the Blue Squad of ETF called the scene clear. Then Jamie and Jesús were loaded into the ambulances. Then, sirens on, the busses raced out, leaving Vivian with Rich and a robot.

She watched the ambulance drive off with a sensation of absolute helplessness.

"Hey," said Rich quietly. "You… You know she's gonna be fine. Right?"

The reply fell off her lips before her brain could process. "I don't." Because Jamie had been out cold. Breathing, yes, but unconscious. That was never, in the history of ever, a good sign.

As Rich prattled on about how the EMTs were awesome, and didn't Vivian known one of them, she studied the building. Maybe the answers to everything would be found in the rubble. Like how a domestic turned into a meth lab turned into an explosion of this level. Because her brain didn't stop working. Ever. That was what happened when a person was raised by smart people.

Vivian _always_ looked at the whole picture. She didn't always understand it, and she still often made mistakes in her interpretations of it, but there, as the sirens went off around her and the ambulances drove off and the water sprayed on the building and a strange pop pop pop was heard … pop. Pop?

"Fuck," said Vivian, under her breath, as her brain sorted out what she was looking at. What she was hearing.

Minor explosions, other things exploding. Something she'd heard with Holly in the lab when her mother used a little nepotism to get experiment time together.

Multiple tiny pops. Small factor combustion. Sparks. The same thing she'd heard in the fucking building before the fire burst out the other window, killing the possible ladder route. The same thing she'd heard in the lab when her mother showed off what someone could do with paintballs, deodorant, and sparkler dust.

"What?" Rich sounded worried.

She ignored him and looked for her sergeant. "Sir," she said clearly, and abandoned her post for the moment.

"Peck, you're supposed to be packing up Rover. I know that you're friends with the hose monkeys—"

"She's my girlfriend, sir, but that's not it. You need to call in the Lieutenant."

Sgt. Smith's face fell. "She's what?"

"See, I heard, on the Rover radio, these pops—"

"Peck! If that's your girl, you gotta get off the case. That's just—"

"Sir! The secondary explosions!"

He stopped and stared. "What?"

"I heard it. On Rover. It went pop-pop-pop-pop. These soft pops. Just like Hol— Dr. Stewart came up with in her lab."

Smith's face grew grave and serious. "Peck, are you saying what I think you are?"

"We gotta get the evidence, sir. I... I … Believe the residual explosions were caused by Safary."

* * *

It was a lot to take in, even for Gail who was pretty used to drama and the like. "Jesus, you look like hell," she informed the firefighter.

The man, actually named Jesús Silver, was swaddled in bandages and casts. What little of his skin that was visible, glistened from the lotion. But he was smiling ear to ear. "I'm alive, ma'am. And the doc says I'm gonna be just fine."

Gail couldn't help but smile. "Got ten minutes for annoying cop questions?"

"Sure... Uh."

"Inspector Gail Peck." She pulled up a chair.

The young man's eyes lit up. "Oh hey, yeah, I remember you. You were here yesterday!"

"I was," said Gail. "Can I sit?"

"Sure. Yeah. I'm off the stupid oxygen mask now." Jesús grinned ear to ear. "Tell ya, that makes me feel worlds better. But I get hella tired right now."

"I promise to make it quick. Do you remember what happened?"

Jesús frowned. "Mostly. I mean, I remember the call and thinking it was a hella weird place for a fire. Usually that building's all shootings." Gail nodded, carefully memorizing what he said. She could type it up later after all. "Anyway, me and McGann were on rapid entry, so as soon as we'd assessed the situation, we went in to look for people who didn't get the memo that fire means get out."

Gail smiled at his description. "You were working on the top floor?"

"Yeah. We kicked in and woke up this meth head. He was real out of it… Did he…?"

Checking her notes, Gail nodded. "Top floor, Mr. Charles Everett. He's alive, though detox is a bitch so he may not appreciate it."

Jesús snorted and winced. "Fuck, that hurts…"

"Sorry. So you took out Mr. Everett?"

"McGann was with me. Two men in, two men together. Always. We passed him off to Anderson and Graham on the first floor and went back up. The smoke hadn't gotten bad, y'know, so we weren't too worried. Normal shit."

That had been how Rich and Vivian both described the day. Normal. Gail sighed. Normal was the watchword. "And you cleared the top floor?"

"Yeah, yeah, top was cleared, and Cappy—" Jesús paused and eyed Gail for a moment, eyes widening.

"Captain Peck…?"

"Uh. Inspector Peck?"

She relieved his curiosity. "Cousins."

Jesús exhaled. "Oh. Okay. Wow. That's creepy. You're related to McGann's copper."

How amusing to hear of Vivian as someone's copper. Gail smiled. "Family is family. What'd Captain Peck say?"

"Uh. She told us to check two. The guys were having trouble getting some old guy out, and she wanted us to take over the last couple rooms." Jesús closed his eyes for a moment. "We kicked in the last door and man… It was … It did not match."

"Match?" Gail perked up.

"Yeah, y'know how shitholes all kinda look the same? Furniture with fleas and shit?" When she nodded, he went on. "This place was mother fucking _clean_. And the locks? Shit, it took both of us at it. McGann got to use her axe…" He trailed off. Jesús clearly knew Jamie was dating a Peck. It seemed not to be a secret at least. But he was trying to process how closely they were related. "Uh. McGann was telling me it probably wasn't safe, so we recorded with our headsets, did a fast check, and as we were headed out I opened a closet and there was this… Boom."

"Large or small?"

"Small. Smaller than … well it was this box, right? It fell out and the heat or something triggered it and BOOM right on me. Knocked me on my ass. Got my tank caught up so I had to ditch it, but like all the sudden there was all this popping. Little fires all over. And McGann, man, she had me up and out, but this _dust_ was all over me and then…" He stopped. "The pops. A box of 'em fell on me … Next thing I remember was a nurse flashing a light in my eyes asking if I knew who the fucking Mayor was and it was half a day later."

Gail smiled a little. The dust, as it happened, was incendiary filler for non-lethal pellets. Paint balls. She sighed. "I regret to inform you that the Mayor is still that dick head."

"I didn't vote for him," grumbled Jesús. "How's… McGann? She okay?"

Ah. Gail rubbed her chin. "The doctors didn't… Right." Gail sighed. "She's alive, she's just not awake. You guys took a tumble down the stairs."

Jesús's eyes welled up. "Fuck."

"They say she'll be fine. Dislocated shoulder, nasty bruise on her back. They're waiting on her waking up is all."

"Ain't right. She saved my ass."

That was true. Jamie had actually hauled her on-fire partner out of the mess and carried him. She'd been out cold next to the stairs, under them for the most part, right where a little robot named Rover, driven by a crazy kid named Peck, led the rest of the firemen. If the stupid stairs hadn't collapsed and dropped her half a story, she'd probably have been fine.

"I'm going to check on her next, but my wife's a doctor and said the charts read fine." Admittedly, Gail had panicked. She would likely always remember seeing Chris, unconscious in a hospital bed. That horrible, sick, feeling that he might die and, worse, the knowledge that they had to let him die, had haunted her for years.

They'd gotten the call on a rare day off mid-week. Gail had been sitting on the back deck with her coffee, feet in Holly's lap while her wife read the morning news. They'd been joking about the latest sports debacle, the political dramas, and the new super hero movies. As Holly had read something about a wild mountain lion who gave birth in someone's truck, and Gail had wriggled her toes up and under Holly's t-shirt, her phone had rung to tell her ETF was pretty sure they'd found another Safary base.

That part had been normal. When Gail asked about the case and heard that firefighters McGann and Silver were caught in an explosion, she froze.

This is why people were taken off of cases with their relatives involved. Gail couldn't believe that more shit happened to her family. Hadn't the world crapped on her kid enough? Hadn't they dealt with enough? Wasn't there a limit?

But. Gail was beaten, kidnapped, drugged, left to hang by her own name, abandoned by her friends, discarded by her boyfriend, and pretty much never chosen first. And then, even after she found Holly, there were still moments where she felt the universe hated her. Luongo River Fever. Undercover for the prince. Being shot at, blown up, and a million other things.

Life just didn't stop.

"When she wakes up," said Jesús, jolting Gail back into 'now.' "Can you tell her thanks?"

"You'll tell her yourself, don't worry about that," Gail said firmly.

She finished getting the information from Jesús, told him to rest, and then stepped outside his room to steel herself up for what was next. The doctor was on rounds when she'd arrived, so Gail decided to check at the nurses' station before stalking his office.

"Oh, Inspector Peck. The doctor was looking for you. Ms. McGann woke up during rounds."

A mountain lifted off Gail's shoulders. "Just now?"

"About an hour and a half ago. We thought ... Officer Peck is in there." The nurse looked thoughtful. "Though she may have fallen asleep again. I don't think she really slept much the last night."

Gail blinked a few times and ordered the words properly in her head. "Officer Peck has been in her room the whole time?"

"Every night. We... " The nurse's expression soured. "She's not working for you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Gail replied. "But hold your horses. It's alright. Her sergeant probably asked her. Thank you." The nurse did not seem pleased, but she nodded and accepted Gail's tone.

But Jamie was awake. Gail checked with the doctor first, making sure it was okay to go talk to her, before heading to Jamie's room. It wasn't a private room, but the other two beds were empty at the moment. Jamie was awake with her tablet propped up on a pillow so she could read, and Officer Vivian Peck was in a chair right beside ...

Vivian was actually sound asleep, her head in a weird position tilted towards the bed and drool coming from her mouth. Snoring.

Oh yes, Gail was taking a few photos of the historic event.

"Hi," said Jamie, sleepily.

"Hey. You look better."

Jamie smiled, her expression a little fuzzy. Probably from the pain killers. "Yeah." She absently reached over to touch Vivian's head. "She fell asleep. That's weird, right?" Squinting at Gail, Jamie added, "I know she can't sleep at other people's."

Gail studied the sleeping girl. "It is peculiar, I'll grant you. How long has she been out?"

"Um. Doc left and she started snoring." Jamie blinked rather owlishly. "This is some good shit. Whatever I'm on."

"Lightweight," teased Gail. But she picked up the chart and recognized the drugs as the same they'd given her the last time she was in. "Oh, _you_ are on the good shit. Jealous! I can't take opiates or narcotics."

"Allergic?"

"Idiosyncratic reactions." Now was not the time to explain about her nightmares or flashbacks. They were more common on narcotics and opiates though. Gail hung the chart back up. "How's the shoulder?"

"Can't feel much of it," admitted Jamie. She poked her own shoulder. "They shot it with anti-flamethrowers."

"I think you mean anti-inflammatories."

"Probably." Jamie smiled and patted Vivian's head. "I'm supposed to move in next month. Did she tell you?"

Gail bit back a smile. "She did not. But good for you."

"I like her. She's sweet. Imperfect. But she tries." And, as Gail watched, Jamie started singing a Sara Barellies song. Except it was one of her horribly depressing ones.

After recording some of it, Gail spoke up. "Ooooookay, kiddo, no more singing sad songs."

"Crosby, Stills and Nash?"

"A woman who likes the classics. How about you get some sleep?"

Jamie smiled. "Okay. But don't you want to know about the fire stuff?"

"Yeah, but I need you sober for that."

Jamie blew air out, trying to make a thbbbt sound and making it a weird pop instead. "I remember what I saw." And Jamie proceeded to detail out what she'd seen. Up until Jesús opened the closet, it matched. "Jesús went down like that cake I made. I cannot bake, Gail. Will Vivian mind?" For a moment, Jamie looked terribly serious. Gail shook her head and Jamie went on. "This weird stuff fell out of the closet. And it rolled like marbles except they popped and splattered Jesús. I already had him without his gear, gave him my air and the whole hallway, just woooooah. But the robot! Oh man, that stupid thing flashed at me and showed me the way out." She sighed wistfully. "Except the stairs. _That_ hurt."

"Tell me about it," said Gail, remembering her broken ribs. "Okay. You're still high as a kite, hose monkey. We'll try this again when you're sober."

Pouting, Jamie stopped playing with Vivian's hair and picked up her tablet. "Can you put this on the wifi for me?"

"Absolutely not," said Gail, nearly laughing. "And no I'm not getting you your phone. Did the hospital call your parents?"

"Vivian did when the doctor kicked her out."

"Okay. You rest. I'll come back later when you've rested."

Jamie grinned, lopsided. "Okay. Bye, Gail."

Shaking her head, Gail walked out and texted Holly, sending her a photo of sleeping Vivian and drugged Jamie.

Then she called a familiar number.

"Peck," said Shay.

"Yeah, that's weird."

"Hey, Gail. Please don't tell me my best rapid entry is dead."

"Nah, she's high as a fucking kite and totally fine. Dislocated shoulder, a bruise or thirteen all over her, but she's going to be fine and you'll get her back."

Shay exhaled loudly. "Good. I'll let the boys know."

"Any news on the case for me?"

Her cousin growled. "I nearly lost two of my top guys and you just want to arrest someone. You're such a bitch."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Shay, you know damn well what's at stake. Okay? Bombs are serious shit."

"Yeah, well you'll be happy to know arson confirmed your kid's on-site call of the incendiaries. Why aren't you harassing your wife about this shit?"

"Because I called to tell you about your employee being awake before I called my wife to tell her about her kid's girlfriend?"

There was a pause. "I can't tell if I'm supposed to be thankful or not."

"Bye, Shay. I'll call you if I find out anything." And Gail hung up before her cousin could reply.

In the room, Vivian was still sacked out. But even asleep she was looking very intense about things. That was Vivian's default, though, serious and intense. She wasn't saying much and neither was Jamie, but given the rollercoaster the two had just been through, that made sense. Maybe they just needed to be together for a while.

Over the last few months, they'd struggled through Vivian's idiot biological family, a fight about something Viv still wasn't really talking about, and then Lily's death just the month before. Somewhere in the middle of the funeral and wake, they'd reconciled. Whatever the fight really was about, though, it left lingering tendrils of annoyance for both women.

But. Unlike Gail and Holly at the same age, they seemed to actually be talking about it.

Gail took that as a sign she'd raised the kid right.

* * *

When the front door opened, instead of the garage, Holly realized the kids had come in a car. So did Gail, as she shouted out the kids were there. Holly still had to ask. "Viv, please tell me you did not take the motorcycle."

"Seriously, Mom?" Vivian sounded annoyed.

"She drove my truck, Holly," said Jamie. "Hi."

Holly swatted Gail's butt in passing and went to gingerly hug the firefighter. "You look exhausted, Jamie."

"I'm okay," said Jamie, returning the hug and not arguing when Holly helped her to a stool in the kitchen. "My back is mostly better."

"Back?" Holly eyed Vivian.

"She has a bruise this big." Vivian held her hands up to about the size of her tablet. "Nasty. But that mattress you picked for me is great. She can sleep on it."

Holly nodded and patted Jamie's head. "You did a number on yourself." The girl looked like she hadn't slept much in the few days she'd been out of the hospital. "You didn't have to come over."

But Jamie shook her head. "Oh my god, I did. My life is Viv's place and the doctor's."

"I hear ya," said Gail, putting an iced tea down for Jamie. "Viv, name your poison."

"I'm driving, so same please." Vivian went to the cabinets and got out plates.

Watching her daughter set the table, Holly smiled. "Speaking of Viv's place, I hear you're moving in?"

Jamie flushed. "Sorry. I know Vivian wanted to tell you..."

"You were high, McGann," said Vivian, sounding amused and very tolerant. "I told you moms forgave me."

"Did your landlords?" Holly asked in her best deadpan and was rewarded with a panicked expression from her kid and the girlfriend. "I'm happy for you two. Is Christian staying?"

Vivian nodded. "So far, yeah. We're gonna see how it works out."

Looking amused, Gail spoke up. "People used to think me and Dov and Chris would have a threesome, y'know. Living together."

Holly made a face. "What a horrible mental image."

"I know, right? It was Dov's fault." Gail checked the fish and carefully turned it. "Life worked out much better this way."

"Well, thank you for the nightmares, Mom, but I'm pretty firmly in the homosexual side of queer."

Gail smirked. "You know someone will say it, though. Since C kissed you." She paused. "You _did_ tell Jamie, right?"

"Yes, Mom!" Vivian laughed. "And that was before we were going out, so stupid past shit is stupid past shit."

Jamie held up her good hand and looked confused. "S'cuse me. Who's Chris?"

Both her wife and daughter winced, leaving Holly to explain. "Chris Diaz was Gail's fellow rookie, and ex-boyfriend. His serious girlfriend in high school was Denise, Christian's mom. And no, he's not the father."

Vivian added another tidbit. "Not to be confused with Chris Epstein, Dov and Chloe's kid, who is a senior in high school and named for Chris. He died shortly after Little Chris was born."

"He'd been in a coma, Diaz was." Gail chimed in.

The firefighter was quiet for a moment. "You people have very convoluted lives. Next you'll tell me Holly ran the DNA to prove he wasn't the father."

Gail cleared her throat. " _Prove_ is the wrong word."

Naturally Jamie laughed and winced. Vivian hovered, clearly unsure which way to go. Finally Vivian announced, "See? This is why I refuse to date anyone at Fifteen."

"Yeah? You're dating my cousin's best rapid entry," Gail said glibly.

Jamie perked up. "The Cap said that?"

"She did. She talked you up."

Beaming, Jamie turned to Vivian. "See? I'm awesome."

"You know what." Vivian was looking like this had been part of a long conversation. "Keep this up and I tell them about the elephant." Jamie shut up and turned pink.

"Oh my god!" Gail laughed until she wheezed. "Pink in a dress?" When Jamie nodded, Gail laughed more. "I told you there was an elephant, Holly!"

Flabbergasted, Holly looked at Vivian. "An elephant? A little pink elephant?"

"It was creepy," whined Jamie.

"Okay, Gail, I owe you an apology." Holly rolled her eyes. Gail would be milking this for years. "In my defense, a stoned as shit cop babbling about a pink elephant sure sounds fucked up."

"Oh it was," said Jamie, darkly.

Besides that, dinner was a fairly subdued affair. They talked about normal things and current events. They joked about sports and the news. It was normal. It was lovely. Not long after desert, Jamie started to look tense and pinched. Holly knew what it was, as did Gail. They both encouraged Vivian to take Jamie home, to let them clean up and get Jamie in bed before the medication kicked in too much.

Only after the house was empty and clean did Holly ask. "It was Safary then?"

Gail looked surprised, freezing with her hands on her own shirt. "Yeah, yeah it was."

"Was it booby trapped?"

"Don't know yet. I know it was old as fuck. And there were termites. Kid said she swore it was a shaped charge, but..." Gail pulled her shirt off and tossed it in the hamper. "Isn't your lab keeping you in the loop?"

Holly swatted Gail's arm. "Wayne's got this under control. He'll send me a final report as soon as he knows, but you know he'll tell you first."

Giving Holly her best grin, Gail leaned over to kiss Holly's cheek. "Everyone loves me best. I'm awesome." While Holly rolled her eyes, Gail added, "Know who tipped us off?"

"The idiot piloting the robot?" Sighing, Holly sat on the end of the bed and kicked her shoes off. "Vivian is scared to death of that girl getting hurt."

"Can't blame her." Hanging her jeans up, Gail went to the shower. "This year sucks. I want a do-over. The last time shit piled up like this..." She stopped and looked over at Holly.

The last time Gail's life had piled things on her like that was a while ago. Possibly when Holly found one of her old cases on trial for possible misuse of evidence, at the same time Vivian was struggling through her first exams as a college student, while Gail had an international crime and had to go to Mexico. That had been a very shitty three weeks. But. "Remember the _first_ time?" Holly smiled.

"Ugh, did the universe have to break me down just so I'd open my eyes and see you?" Gail swore in general and washed her hair.

Holly smiled more. It did. The universe had to throw everything it could at them all the time. They came out of those moments strong and braver and better. Bruised and battered, certainly, but better. "I love you, Gail!"

The shower door opened. "Well. That's convenient." Gail's hair stuck up with soap still in it. "We should take a long weekend. Go to the cabin."

"You should wash the soap out of your hair. And I think Vivian should drag Jamie up there. The girl isn't sleeping."

Gail looked surprised and quickly rinsed out her hair. They swapped places, Holly getting her head under the comforting spray, and Gail asked. "I thought it was just the pain killers."

"No, she has the same face you get when you can't relax. She's probably hearing the fire and the crash over and over when she sleeps. And the pain killers make it harder to wake up so..." Holly scrubbed her skin. "Is this her first big injury?"

"Viv said so." Gail rubbed her hair dry-ish and took the time for some lotion. "The first time is the worst, but she has Viv so that's better."

"But she's hella tense, Gail."

"No. No, you're right."

Holly laughed and turned off the water. "Say that again?"

Gail narrowed her eyes. "You're right. _You're_ right, you're _right_. Happy?" She held out a towel.

Taking the towel, Holly spoke softly. "You're not alone, Gail."

The blonde smiled and brushed the backs of her fingers over Holly's cheek. "I know." She leaned in and kissed Holly's cheek. "And she is way better off than I was at that age. They both are. And that? That's because we are awesome parents."

Holly smiled and leaned in to kiss Gail more properly. "We are." They kissed again and Holly sighed happily. "I'm glad it wasn't worse."

"Me too." Gail's eyes drifted closed as they kissed again.

One of the best things about kissing Gail was how tender it could be. Oh, Holly loved a good, fierce kiss as much as anyone else. Their first real kiss had been like that. Gail grabbed her face and kissed her the way Holly had secretly wanted for ages. To just demand that they both acknowledge the thing between them, the reality that they were not 'just' friends. That they meant something more. That they were inevitable.

But the second part of that kiss... That moment where Gail drew her back in again and was sweet and tender. That kiss meant so much to Holly because of its lack of need and desperation to prove anything. It was just a girl, standing in front of another girl, showing that she had feelings.

"What's going on in that big brain?" Gail's voice was a soft caress.

"Thinking about kissing you." She let go of the towel, letting their closeness hold it up, and rested her hands on Gail's hips. "I like kissing you."

Gail smiled. Not her big, cocky grin, but that honest happy smile that slipped out on rare occasions. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're kind of special."

The blonde opened her eyes, shimmering blue and a little wet. "Are you tired?" Holly shook her head and Gail kissed her again, this time with a noticeably different intent.

They didn't say anything about what was going to happen next. Gail tugged the towel away from between them, tossing it somewhere on the tile floor. They'd sort it out later. Right now, right now there was a need for something else. A need to touch and be touched. To breathe in the smell of each other, feel the weight of each other.

Holly tugged Gail back towards the bed. Their bed. Their bedroom. Their home. Them. They had been a them for over twenty years. Soon enough, they would be a them for half their lives. Twenty odd years of each other, and it wasn't enough yet. Holly knew she could spend another twenty years just getting to know Gail. Just getting to learn her.

For all the years she had known Gail and her body, for all the times she'd let her hands explore the pale skin and the soft curves, it was never enough. Their bodies changed over time. Breasts that were taut and perky at twenty and thirty were now softer and saggier. Skin had wrinkles and scars and stretch marks. Hair was grey. Well... Holly's hair was grey.

Still. None of that mattered, not in a bad way. The change and the changes and the changing was all part of life that should be celebrated. And how Holly celebrated them. She reveled in them, delighting in the sensations of Gail's body against her own. She loved her wife.

And it was clear Gail felt the same way. The blonde got lost at times, lost in a yearning that evidenced itself in a look and a touch. Lost in a wanting that had not faded to time. Lost in a feeling that could only be called love. Gail's hands would still and she would just look. She would look and smile and laugh softly, as if she could still hardly believe that this was her life and this was her wife.

Then Gail moved again, moved her hands and moved against Holly's hands. She lost herself in the other way, the way where they were together and still together and forever and ever and the moments could last a lifetime. And they knew. Oh, how they knew what they meant to each other. What they would always mean.

And then, when the moments had passed and they lay in each other's arms, listening to hearts and lungs, Holly smiled. She rubbed her cheek along Gail's sternum, smearing more of herself against her wife. Spreading her scent over a woman who still smelled differently than she did, but now smelled much like her.

"I do love you," said Gail into the quiet calm of the night, her hand caressing Holly's hair.

"I love you," replied Holly.

And she did.

* * *

The evening with Jamie's father was not the favorite on her list. But Jason had asked if he could come over, alone, to help out, and Vivian actually had to work that afternoon so why not. She hadn't expected him to stay, though, and the fact that he was sticking around for dinner was still weird.

And as it happened, she was sorting out (with her therapist's help) the fact that she didn't actually have as much of a problem with the man as she thought she did. The slightly subtle family fighting, yes, had stuck in her craw in a bad way, but the first thing that Jason did was apologize. He made no excuses, he simply said he was sorry that they'd made her uncomfortable, and he would understand if she didn't want to see them.

Damn adults being reasonable.

So after a lunch with Angela and coffee with Jason, Vivian ended up with Jason and Jamie and a movie early one night. It was not a film she cared about, so when the movie started she ordered them Chinese food to satisfy Jamie's cravings. It was impossible for her to miss the slight glare from Jason as she left to pick the food up.

When she reached her door on the trip back, she could hear the conversation.

Jamie was fairly quiet. "Dad... Vivian's being nice."

"This is her being nice? She just left us to get food! In the middle of the movie!"

"No. Dad, she doesn't like John Hughes movie."

There was a long pause. Long enough for Vivian to consider opening the door. "Who doesn't like John Hughes movies? James, I take back everything I said about how good she was for you."

Jamie sighed loud enough to be heard through the door. "She thinks they're depressing."

Okay, time to cut that off. Before Jamie's father could reply, Vivian opened the door and walked back in with the takeout order. "Hit pause, adrenaline junkie. I got your Dim Sum."

Jason scowled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Vivian paused. "Uh, do we have a month?" She put the food on the counter and hoped to pull off Gail levels of deflection.

"What's wrong with John Hughes? He's one of the seminal artists of his generation!"

Muttering 'here we go,' Jamie started to get up to help with the food. "Hey, McGann, keep the ass on the couch," scowled Vivian. "Sorry... Jamie, not you, sir."

"Topic," snapped Jason.

Arching her eyebrows, Vivian's tone shifted without her even meaning to. "Mr. McGann. You're my girlfriend's dad, but don't be a dick. I really have no problem throwing you out of my home." She had reflexively pitched her voice as the tone of a cop. Well. In this case, it was also the tone of someone who knew Jason's history.

Jason fumed for a moment. "Sorry," he grumbled. "I ... Sorry." Taking a deep breath, he asked more reasonably, "Why are they depressing?"

She caught Jamie's worried expression and half nodded. Please don't make a thing. Right. So, as if nothing had happened, Vivian replied, "They reflect the inherent futility of life, masquerading as an ache for societal validation. Instead they're actually a reminder that we will all eventually become the things we detest because there's no escape for the world we've made. All his characters will end up unhappy and exactly who they didn't want to be."

Jason was stunned and Jamie smiled. "Oh," he muttered. "What movies do you like?"

"I don't watch a lot of them. Documentaries mostly."

Jamie cleared her throat. "Vampires."

Vivian shrugged. "That's different."

To her father, Jamie explained, "She thinks the _Twilight_ movies are funny."

"It's a comedy," said Vivian. "An unintentional modern take on Emma. Did you take your pain killers?"

"No. I'm supposed to take them with food."

Nodding, Vivian brought her a plate first, and a glass of water. "No you can't have a coke," she noted and kissed Jamie's forehead.

Jamie's father looked sad. "Unhappy? Even _Some Kind of Wonderful_?"

"Eric Stolz?" Vivian looked at Jamie for confirmation. "Right. He'll be a starving artist, she'll take a job to support him, and they'll be miserable. Maybe he'll have to sell the earrings and she'll resent it. Hard to say. But it's the most tolerable of the lot."

It shut Jason up and he took his plate of food with a marveling expression. "Is she like this all the time?"

Jamie smiled. "Secretly brilliant? Yeah. She doesn't like to talk about her life to people, and any time she so much as mentions she doesn't like Hughes movies, they figure she has some horrible trauma."

Snorting, Vivian sat next to Jamie. "Not their business."

Jamie gestured. "See? Back to taciturn. It's normal for her."

Vivian felt a little worried. "Is that bad?"

"No," promised Jamie. "Why are we watching this, though?"

Vivian eyed Jamie. "You like it, and you said it was your Dad's favorite."

Jamie smiled and leaned against Vivian long enough to kiss her cheek. "See, Dad?"

Her father sighed. "Well. As long as she keeps you out of trouble." He was quiet for the rest of the movie though.

Near the end, Jamie drifted off to sleep. Silently, Jason and Vivian cleaned up the dishes. "You don't have to help, sir— Jason."

"I wanted to say thank you," he replied, quietly. "She's not sleeping well."

Vivian glanced at Jamie, curled up on the couch with a scowl. "She's in pain. But... Yeah, she's not."

"And she won't stay with us... Which I can't blame her." He sighed. "Her mother won't take her meds."

This was not the conversation Vivian wanted to have. It felt too close to home. "I don't think—"

"It's not that. I mean, Angie's not crazy like my mom. But she has anger issues. Rage. It's rare, but ... Well that's why she broke my leg back when." Jason paused. "You do know about that, right?"

Vivian nodded. "I do." She sighed. "I ... I overreact about that stuff."

"I noticed." Jason looked over at the couch. "So do I sometimes... It's not my fucking business. I'm not asking. But I'm pretty sure you'll never be like that to Jamie."

"God, no." Vivian frowned. A different thought came to mind and she hated it. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Hah, that was cop for 'does your wife beat you, Mr. McGann' isn't it?" When Vivian didn't answer, he sighed. "We're okay. She doesn't hit me. Or Jamie. She hasn't hit anyone since that night. Neither have I. But she doesn't like to take her meds, so it's hard."

Vivian looked down at the sink. "I can't promise I won't..." She stopped. How could she explain? She couldn't. There was no way to explain everything in her head, not here and now. "It's not you. Not all you."

"I get that. A lot of me isn't my wife, but sometimes Angela brings out the worst." Jason shrugged. "I don't know my real father, kid— Vivian. That asshole grandfather I wouldn't let see Jamie? Step-dad. Used to beat the shit out of me and my mom. I became a boxer to be strong, so shitfaces like him could never hurt me." The man sighed loudly. "Ended up hurting the one person who means the world to me. I know I'm lucky. I'll never take that for granted again, and every day she's with me... grace of god. Grace of god."

What were you supposed to say to that? Vivian sighed. "I'm not there... not where I can talk about that stuff to everyone. Anyone."

"You tell Jamie?" When she nodded, he smiled. "That's what matters. Not me."

Vivian essayed a smile at him. "Can I change the topic?"

"God! Yes!" Jason laughed.

"I want to kidnap your daughter and take her out of the city. For a week or so."

"Yeah? Got a place in mind?"

"I'm about to sound entitled," she muttered. "My moms have a cabin up in the woods."

Jason pursed his lips. "I don't think Jamie's ever been outside of cities really. She may hate it."

"I know. But it's quiet and the opposite of stressful."

The tall man looked over at his sleeping daughter. Wistful. He was at least. Jamie was frowning and looked in pain and twitchy. "Thank you."

Vivian blinked and shrugged. "I like her. I'm her girlfriend. I'm supposed to do this."

"Yeah. But you know it's a choice, Vivian. We don't have to, but we chose to take care of people. And sometimes they don't get why, but we do."

She looked up at the man and blinked. Kinship. With a strange man. That was a feeling she'd never had before. "I asked her to move in," Vivian said softly. She had no idea if Jamie had mentioned it to her own parents, and right then she didn't care.

"Well," said Jason quietly. "If she didn't say yes, my kid's an idiot." Parental approval. How odd. He smiled at her, looking like he wanted to squeeze her shoulder. Instead, though, Jason nodded and then went to nudge his daughter awake so he could say goodnight.

The suggestion later that night of the Peck cottage surprised her girlfriend. They'd settled into bed, Jamie carefully propped up on pillows, and Vivian said she had the time off to take Jamie up to the cottage. The firefighter stared. "You _really_ own a cottage?"

"My moms own a cottage. It's been in the family for like two hundred years or something. I promise it has running water."

Jamie frowned. "How is this supposed to be restful?"

"It's really quiet. No city noises to wake you up. Nice, soft beds. No phones. No TV. No internet."

"This is not helping your case. I'm already bored."

Vivian smiled and took Jamie's hand. "If you don't like it, I'll take you to a B&B or anything you want. But you gotta get out of the city, Jamie. You're not getting any rest."

Her girlfriend sighed. "You're the champ of shitty sleeping. Is it really good?"

"It's the best," Vivian said firmly. There was something about the cottage that just let a body rest. Everything slowed down. Everything was relaxed. "We'll take your truck."

Getting the time off had been easy enough when she told Andy and Sue why. When a person had a high stress job and didn't generally take time off, bosses tended to react appropriately when some was requested, long weekend and short staff or not. Sue had already given an earful to Sgt. Smith about how everyone knew Jamie was Vivian's girlfriend, and making her drive Rover was ignorant.

Then Vivian had to make sure her parents didn't mind her taking the cabin. Her mothers' only warning was that since it was a long weekend, they'd be up at the cabin on Friday. That was fine. Four days to get Jamie to sleep and relax would be about right, if Vivian's experiences with her parents were any indication.

As it happened, Jamie dozed off on the drive up. The soft near-snore from the passenger seat was soothing and comforting. Vivian was tempted to let her sleep all the way up, but she really didn't want to cook that night. Thankfully Jamie woke up as they got to town, and Vivian brought her in the store to pick up some snacks and a to-go dinner from the diner.

The cabin was usually stocked, and Gail had said she'd have the service clean up before they got there. The service was the daughter of the town sheriff, who was around Sophie's age now... Still. Stocked meant cooking, and cooking was work. She wanted to be lazy for one night.

The diner owner recognized her, teasing Vivian about being up there on her own. When Vivian explained her girlfriend was marveling at the actual five and dime store, the matron changed her expression and loaded them up with ribs, brisket, potatoes, and greens. High energy food, she called it, and laughed at Vivian's blush. It was great food though, and Vivian wasn't going to knock it.

Wide awake at last, Jamie's eyes were wide as they drove further into the hills, until the woods parted and they could see a house and a lake.

"Holy fuck." She was all but pressed against the window.

"Jamie, have you ever been out of the city?" Vivian laughed as she pulled up at the garage.

"Not the point." As soon as they parked, Jamie was out of the vehicle and staring at the front deck. "Vivian, this is a house! You said cottage!"

That had been Vivian's reaction at six. "It's got three bedrooms, two down and one up. Indoor plumbing, lights powered by solar. It's off the grid, and no your phone won't work. Gotta go back to town for a signal. But we have a land line." Vivian got out and grabbed the groceries. "Gun safe is upstairs in my Moms' room. My room is down and on the left when we go in."

Trusting Jamie would follow her, she went up the steps, unlocked the door, and headed inside. There was a note on the counter from the cleaning company, telling her there was a fresh box of detergent in the storage room. Good. Not that Vivian expected to need the laundry, but it was good to know.

"Holy fuck, the lake... Vivian, the lake is _right_ there!"

Vivian looked over and cursed. "Hey, what part of take it easy and don't strain your arm did you not understand?" Her girlfriend had the luggage in hand.

"I didn't hurt both arms."

"You hurt enough." Vivian took the suitcase. "Overworking your good arm is a common injury."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to exercise my arm."

"Exercise it under controlled situations."

"It's one bag!"

"Fine, get the backpacks," suggested Vivian, as she went back for the guns. In a case were the rifle and a pair of handguns. The latter went into the small gun safe in her room, the former was locked away in the master. The odds were against needing any of it, but Vivian had experiences with the moose population.

Jamie carried the backpacks in and stopped, staring out at the back deck and the lake. "Holy crap. This ... This is amazing."

"Go on out. I'll bring drinks."

Mutely, Jamie opened the sliding door and stepped out to the deck. When Vivian joined her, she was sitting on an Adirondack chair, positively in awe. Vivian grinned and handed over a bottle of the local soda, taking the neighboring chair. They sat in the quiet evening, watching the sky start to change color.

"So. What, exactly, do we do up here?"

"Eat. Sleep. Play around in the water." Vivian glanced over. "There's a farmer's market back in town pretty much every day in summer. And some really wild caves. We have a rowboat and a canoe. We can go fish. Rock climbing is out."

"Yeah a bit. Hunt?"

"I can probably get us a permit... We don't, though. Gail thinks it's cruel."

"Gail? Sounds like a Holly thing."

Vivian smiled. "That too."

"What do your parents do?"

"Oh." Vivian cleared her throat. "Sex. Mostly."

Jamie blinked and flushed. "Oh." She played with her bottle for a moment. "Eat. Rest. Sex... Sounds ... Kind of nice."

Vivian reached over and put her hand on Jamie's. It did sound nice.

* * *

The evidence was a mess. Gail stared at the tables and tables of it and cringed. "Wayne, I don't want to be a bitch..."

Someone in the room snorted.

"I know," said Wayne. He looked a little overwhelmed. "I'm prioritizing items from that room first, but the fire and the water and that damn self destruct... Safary's good, Gail."

She nodded. "I know. I'm not asking for a miracle, Wayne, just something to trace and hunt down." Gail ran her hands through her hair. Because right now she had nothing. Nothing useful.

Wayne nodded back and went over what they did have. In the week since the fire, they'd collected everything that had survived. The water damage had been impressive, though expected, and the collapse... Actually the stairs turned out to be part of Safary's plan. A small set of charges had been found on the structural elements of the stairs, taking them down easily.

Of if it all, evidence from the firefighters's clothing had been the most useful. It had confirmed Holly's theory on how the secondary explosions were started. The trace on Jesús' pants came back as off brand Old Spice deodorant. The kind bought in bulk from CostCo and other such places.

It was news to Gail that bulk pit stick could be different from the kind in stores. The off brand stuff was usually nearly identical to the real thing, except in price. Apparently Old Spice had some secret ingredient or another.

In addition, they had some useful trace from the fake explosives used to make the sparks. The lab was working on tests to see if they could isolate and identify the special effects material. They really needed some clear samples of unused whatever it was, but they were still going through the rubble.

The arson investigation had concluded, surprisingly swiftly, and informed Gail that the cause had been a tripwire. That sent Gail to talk to Abercrombie and find out why he and his partner (Goff, still doing poorly as a rookie, and still creeping everyone out) were there in the first place. She'd read the reports, but Gail preferred to talk to the rookies.

From Rich, she learned they'd been there for a domestic. A junkie and his dealer got into a fight on the second floor. They'd only caught the dealer, as the junkie punched Goff and ran off. As they'd gotten the dealer cuffed and in the car, Rich had noticed some smoke. Then they'd heard the fire alarms, so he radioed it in.

That was when the first explosion went off, and the call was escalated. ETF had pulled up at the same time as Station Four, but ceded entry to the hose monkeys since the fire was raging at that point, setting up outside. Of course, Shay wasn't a moron and had two ETF fire experts in with her crew. No one had cleared the building, but they were pretty sure the fire was causing the explosions and not the other way around.

And all of that was information Gail already knew.

"What I need is something new," she complained to Holly as she threw herself onto the couch in her wife's office.

Without looking up, Holly asked. "Want me to dress up in your uniform?"

"Not what I had in mind, you weirdo." But Gail grinned at the mental image. "You would look sexy as hell in a uniform."

Holly smiled and looked up from her laptop. "You rock a lab coat."

"Hey, you made me wear it." Gail sat up and mimicked Holly's voice. "If you're going to work in the lab, you have to wear a coat." Then she added, "I know damn well you didn't make Vivian!"

With that god damn it sexy smirk, Holly reached up and adjusted her glasses. That ass. She knew it turned Gail on. "She was working in her uniform. You were in a suit. A nice suit. A suit I love seeing you in." And she gave Gail a wistful sigh.

"Flirt," said Gail, under her breath.

"Shameless, too." Holly picked up a pen and jotted something down. "I can't solve a case for you every time, Gail, so stop pleading."

Gail flipped her wife off and lay back on the couch. "My kid is the bomb expert."

"Not enough evidence left for reconstruction."

Gail groaned. "I hate you." She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

She needed more data. The right data. Something that could tell her which way to go. They couldn't waste time checking videos and receipts from stores to find out who bought the deodorant, because she could have paid cash or had someone else pick it up. If Safary was clever enough to get away with it for this long she had to have layers and levels.

Minions.

Gail had minions. Well, she had Andy, and Girl Guide had minions. Gail took her hands off her face and picked up her phone. She tapped in a message, asking Andy to send out the kids and interview every single neighbor. Door to door. Then she told Zettle she needed the Ds to go over the interviews of the residents. Deep dive into backgrounds. Connect them to any of the other incidents, any of the locations of he bombs, any of the suppliers.

Then... Then she needed more background. The types of bombs. There were databases. She sent herself a note to run the bomb profiles against the FBI's database, as well as the Mounties. Bombs had signatures. People had styles. If she could figure out Safary's then she could figure out the answer.

One of the answers. Motive was still half elusive. They knew why. Safary was a god damned criminal activist. Blow up people who mistreat others. Of the places that had been bombed, all had been investigated and found to be in some criminal act or another. Even the damned Zoo, which had been embezzling.

How the hell did someone just find that sort of thing?

She dropped her phone back onto her stomach. "Holly, I need a break."

"What kind?" Her wife didn't sound like she had stopped working.

"The kind where I let my back brain try to find Safary, while my front brain goes all lizard and ravishes you."

The typing stopped. "Specific. I, however, have to finish this for John."

"You love John more than you love me," said Gail, putting on her best pout.

Holly, alas, knew her too well. "Yes, you're right," said the doctor in her deadpan. "I love John and I'm leaving you for him. But don't worry, you and Janet get along."

"You're her bridesmaid." Gail smiled. "How's the dance lessons?"

"Eh. Her friends cannot bust a move. They make Viv look like Fred Astaire."

"Not Ginger Rodgers?"

Holly snorted a laugh. "Honey, our kid ain't got rhythm." She resumed typing with determination. "Tell you what. Go shoot. We can do Yoga tonight if you don't mind the kiddie classes. And... If you're still stumped this weekend, we abscond."

"Oh, we were gonna do that anyway," said Gail firmly.

"See? You can ravish me in the cottage."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Child plus one will be there. And unlike Viv, Jamie will be in no shape to go for a hike all day whilst we tryst."

To that, Holly looked up. "We should see a play."

"Huh?" Gail stared. What the what?

"A play. Not a musical, not ballet, not opera, not a concert. A play."

That reminded Gail she 'owed' Holly a rock concert again one of these days. Her wife did so love the modern shit. "A play. Okay. Subjects?"

"Genres. Comedy. A one woman play would work."

Gail frowned. "Elvira Kurt has that one woman show about lesbians?"

"Make it so!" Holly waved her hand and went back to typing.

Sensing a true dismissal, Gail got up, kissed Holly's forehead (and got a distracted 'love you' in return), and let herself out. Ruth the secretary looked up. "Is she still deep into that report, Gail?"

"She didn't even bite at my bad jokes." Unlike most secretaries and assistants, Ruth had no problem calling Gail by her name. She was non-scientific, but incredibly intelligent and smart as a whip. Gail adored her and sometimes tried to get her for the OC crowd.

"She's really excited," offered Ruth.

Gal grinned ear to ear. "Oh I don't mind. I knew she was an obsessive workaholic when I married her. It's one of the things I love about her."

Ruth looked skeptical. "A lot of people in my old life used to say that."

"Lot of techaholics?"

Smirking, Ruth nodded. "They had this weird idea that not working, not being available 24/7, meant they were slacking off."

"Bleah. I'm only successful because I'm lazy."

"You're efficient," said Ruth, pointing at Gail with her stylus. "And so am I. I'll make sure you get called right away, but I suspect it'll be next week at the earliest before the lab has anything concrete."

Gail sighed dramatically. "You know, I was going to start my usual attempt to win you over, but I swear, you're more useful to everyone here."

Ruth smirked. "You're not my type, Inspector. I like science more than crime. I don't see as many nutters here."

"Less living evil, I'll grant you," agreed Gail. "Alright. Please make sure she doesn't overwork, though, would you? If she starts getting all Holly, remind her we have Yoga at six?"

"She's lucky to have a lady like you," said Ruth, making a note of what Gail just said.

"Ain't she though? Thanks, Ruth. I owe you one."

As Gail walked back to the station, secretly enjoying the terrible city heat, she smiled.

She was no closer to solving her case, she was no closer to saving anyone, but she felt like her feet were on the right path for a change. That sooner or later, things would change for the better. Maybe there would be a break in the case or maybe they would luck into something. But there was a change brewing.

* * *

The summer storm was startling. Holly eyed it from the back deck, sipping her coffee. "Is it raining up at the cottage?"

Gail looked up from her laptop. "No. Vivian said it was hot and dry." The blonde squinted out at rain. Lighting, thunder, and bits of hail shattered down for a moment, and then it went back to rain. All within seconds. "Microbursts. Remember when these were rare?"

"Climate change is, to a degree, irreversible." Holly sighed. "Are you going in today?"

"Just to oversee a couple interviews this afternoon. And we can get out of dodge tomorrow morning if that's good for you." The detective bent her head to her laptop again, scowling.

Holly watched Gail work for a little while. Seated by the house, Gail was far from the rain and the sun. It was her usual spot, as she still burned quickly at a hint of sun. But there, tucked into the bit of table by the wall with her laptop and coffee, hair still rumpled from sleep, wearing her lazy house robe that was silky and the perfect color for her pale skin, Gail was still far more sexy than any woman had a right to be.

Even now, in their mature age, Gail was stunning and could break hearts. She aged gracefully and gloriously. Her hair, all of it, was resilient to the ravages of time. No grey for Gail, though not a blonde there either, she had wrinkles that one might call laugh lines. A few crows feet at the corner of her eyes. Nothing more.

The bombshell look of youth had changed, somewhat, into heart-stopped glamour. Gail had been known to stop men and women cold in the street, especially on nights they went to the show. Oh how Holly loved those nights. When Gail was dressed in heels and a sheath dress that should have been illegal, and Holly wore slacks and a blouse that made her skin glow, and she had Gail on her arm and the world could be jealous.

The world could burn and the people could wail. But the only person on the planet Gail had eyes for was her. And that feeling, oh how it made Holly think she was the queen of the universe. She was the luckiest woman ever, because she woke up every day to Gail.

Smiling, she watched. She watched her wife scowl at her work and type with fierce passion because there was nothing Gail did without passion. And again, in a wet and stormy summer morning, Holly fell in love all over again. Just watching Gail, she remembered everything about the woman that was imperfect and wonderful.

"It's creepy when you stare at people," cautioned Gail, closing her laptop.

"Sorry, but I married a beautiful woman."

Gail snorted and stretched her arms up over her head. "I got us tickets to see a show when we get back."

"Oh? The comedy show?"

"It's not very comedy." Gail's phone flashed and she picked it up, reading the message. "I have to take this." And Gail shifted into her more serious mode, stepping inside. "Peck."

Holly picked up the laptop and carried it inside, following Gail and making more coffee. But her wife trotted up the stairs right away. Ah. That sort of case. Holly poured herself coffee and picked up her own phone to check messages and mail. There was nothing dreadfully important. The lab was making headway on the building fire, the detectives were hunting down the head bashers, and a million other smaller cases were in various stages of development.

It was a perfectly normal day, in other words. A day to take her time and enjoy her coffee as she sat in her kitchen and watched the little storm peter out.

Holly had, planning for her long weekend, taken the time to get as much ahead as possible. Her work in the office was done, unlike Gail's, leaving only the packing and paperwork to do. But Holly's work was generally easier to wrap up. Not always. It was just that science was a little more predictable. A person could follow process and procedure and test and find answers.

It was science. Sometimes it surprised her, but it invariably followed logic and sense and was a perfect slice of the universe. Just as her parents had taught her, over and over, the wonders of science. From the very beginning when Brian wrote her math problems on sheets of legal paper, teaching her addition and subtraction, to her first real go at experiments in the yard with Lily and a children's chemistry set.

She stared at her phone for a moment. Then she texted her father.

_Gail and I are taking a long weekend up at the cabin._

She knew it was banal and that her father was probably still asleep (it was three hours earlier). But Holly had been trying to text him regularly, letting him remember that life moved on. That there were still people who loved him and needed him.

As loathe as Holly was to admit it, she shared Gail's concerns to her father's mental health. Brian had never been the most stable person Holly had known. Sometimes she worried that his reliance on Lily meant a crumbling of sanity now that she was gone.

That thought echoed in her heart, aching hollowly. Lily was gone. Her mother was dead. None of the Pecks in her life tended to sugar coat that word. They said it with a firm finality. They knew the passing of life in a way that soaked into their bones. They knew the agony of loss, the pain of it all. Oh, Pecks knew death and angst more than anyone.

But too, they knew strength and how to survive it all. They stood, silently crying out that they had made it through. That was their defiance. Their super power. Pecks survived. They could be shot, kidnapped, blown up, divorced, blackmailed, extorted, abandoned, or anything else the world threw at them. It sometimes made Holly wish she'd taken the name.

Should she? It wasn't as if there was a time limit on that sort of thing. One could go online and handle it, after all. Just say she wanted her wife's name. No doubt some clerk would get misty eyed and stamp it and, if there had to be an in-person chat, tell her she was an old romantic for her age. And age did factor in. Twenty years ago, in the start of the prime of her career, Holly Stewart becoming Holly Peck would have thrown her papers for a loop. There would have been confusion and comments and even now, those things were still a mess.

Except now that she was looking squarely at sixty, it didn't matter. In another five or ten years, she'd be retired. No more papers and research and speaking. No more Dr. Stewart. Just ... Mrs. Holly Stewart. Wife. Mother. Grandmother maybe. And that could be pretty awesome too.

There was more to be in life than just one thing. Making choices and sacrifices to be something else, "something greater than just yourself" as Elaine would say, was par for the course. But being greater then the individual came in so many favors. Holly and Gail gave much of themselves to the world, to Toronto, to serve and protect a city that didn't always like them. Vivian had picked up on that and, desperate for her tribe, clung to it as her own goal.

And yet even Vivian knew there was more to life than just being a cop or a Peck or anything else. There was love. There was joy. There were the things that made a person smile. So while Holly loved science and she loved her work, the idea of slowing down a little was not a terrible one. Because after giving of herself for years, she deserved some of this. She would leave Toronto and Canada and the world in the best hands possible.

A voice startled her out of her rather deep morning thoughts.

"Holly, have you seen my dress shoes? I need to get to court."

Court? That wasn't good. Holly looked up at the stairs. "You cleaned them and left them in the office to air out."

"Right! Thanks babe."

"Anything important?"

"Just some bullshit in the arsons from last year. Should be in and out."

Well. That was alright. Holly poured Gail some more coffee in a travel mug and waited until Gail came back down the stairs, carrying her jacket, tie, and hat. "Gail. How would you feel if I took the name Peck?"

Gail froze. "The fuck?"

Holly smiled at Gail's incurable honesty. "Annoyed. Check."

"Confused. Bewildered. Contemplating calling the shrink."

Still smiling, Holly took the tie and looped it around Gail's neck. It was comforting to do that for Gail, much for the same reasons Gail liked to brush and braid Holly's hair no doubt. They were capable of doing it themselves, but the moment of care was nice. "I was thinking about it. That's all."

Gail lifted her chin to give Holly a better view. "Crazy thinking. You don't want to be a Peck. Besides, it would screw up your career."

"Not now, honey." Holly slowly did the tie up and then kissed Gail softly. While still bearing the veneer of confusion, Gail returned the kiss. It was nice and soft, gentle and warm. It was the kind of kissing that soothed the soul and made Holly think about nothing but love.

"I'd sooner take Stewart," Gail said, pointedly. "I think ... You know I don't give a damn. But if you want to..."

"I don't know if I want to. It was just a thought."

Her wife frowned. "So ... What? When you retire?"

Holly sighed. "I think it's time to cut back."

Gail arched her perfect eyebrows. "On coffee?"

"On jobs. I'm the highest ranking medical examiner in the city and the territory."

God bless, Gail caught that in one. "Go back to just the city? I like that idea. Means I can see you naked more." When Holly laughed, Gail beamed and kissed her again. "I like that a lot better than Holly Peck."

"It was just a thought, Gail." Holly smoothed Gail's collar and ran her hands down the white-sleeved arms. "Real retirement is coming on sooner than later, you know."

To that, Gail winced. "We are not old." Catching Holly's hands, Gail squeezed them.

"Having second thoughts about retiring?"

Gail shook her head. "No, but Frankie is. I wanna offer her a promotion." She paused. "Mom was the first to retire."

Holly blinked. "And then Captain Awesome. And next ... You?"

"Well. You if you take Peck. I know you thought about it before but..." Gail sighed. "I really have to go to court." She gently cupped Holly's face with one hand. "This feels like something big, though. Something we should talk about." Her voice was soft and Gail's thumb brushed Holly's cheek.

Leaning into the touch, Holly smiled. "We can talk later, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world."

Her blonde dreamboat looked unconvinced but kissed Holly once more before heading out. Holly sighed and watched the car drive away and the sun break through and the familiar streets of their home. They'd lived at the house for nearly twenty years. That was such a phenomenal concept, really.

It was a big house, bigger than the townhouse by half, and they'd dipped into savings to pay it off. But it was a comfort. It had the room Vivian needed to grow, for Gail and Holly to work, for guests to stay, and for them to not feel crowded. Over nineteen years, and they'd filled the garage and the walls and the garden with their lives. Books, photos, paintings, furniture, and a whole life.

"We should stay here," said Holly firmly.

Even though the idea of the house being too large had been her own, now Holly saw a room for her daughter and a partner. A room for children. Maybe they could turn Vivian's room into a yoga room. Or into a guest room. It had the better bath setup after all. The current guest room had a tiny, nearly useless, shower tub. Gail said it was only good for sitting on while crying.

But this was home. This was their home. This was a place of safety and security and sanctity that Gail and Holly had built for themselves. Maybe Vivian would want it later on, when she had a family, and maybe not. But. This was home, and home it should stay.

And Gail was right. She was Holly Stewart, no middle name thank you, and that was how she should stay.

* * *

The last time Vivian had been up to the cottage with someone really sick or hurt, it had been when she was sixteen and Gail had been shot. Holly post hospital didn't really count, as she was just exhausted and Vivian was too young to really understand it all. Still, Gail. The damage had been trivial, not even a broken rib thanks to the new and improved vests. The bruising though had been spectacular. And the mental damage had been a real fucking winner.

Because, as it happened, Gail had been hit by a bullet that missed another detective. No, the other four bullets had not missed Detective Jo Rosati. Brains had splattered over Gail, giving her terrible dreams and a gaunt face for days. As soon as the doctor assured them Gail could sit up long enough (as that had been an issue), Holly had thrown them all in the car and gone up to the cottage for a long weekend.

The sleep that had eluded Gail for a week was found on the second day in the cottage. Vivian had gone for a dawn run down the looping trail and came back to find Holly awake and making coffee, with Gail still sound asleep. In the gloaming of morning, Holly explained that Jo had helped Gail to study for her detective's badge, and while the woman had a storied history with Fifteen, she was still their family. Apparently Jo had slept with Andy's then fiancé, someone named Callaghan, a name Vivian barely remembered at first, but the deep sadness on Holly's faces reminded her of the man who had died protecting Holly from the crazy guy with Ebola.

Gail, though. She didn't show up until nearly dinner, looking exhausted but finally rested.

Similarly, Jamie did nothing but rest the first full day they were up at the cottage. The first night, arrival night, they'd sat out under the stars for hours, eating the roasted beef and pork ribs and watching the stars come out. It was novel to Jamie, a city girl, who had marveled over the shooting stars, the haze of the galaxy and the reflections in the lake.

When Vivian made a fire, it was even more amazing to the other woman. Jamie laughed at the sparks it threw into the sky and the way the smoke blended with the clouds. They stayed out until the edge of the sky changed color and Jamie finally yawned and drooped and let Vivian show her the bedroom and shower.

Jamie didn't sleep well that first night. Not worse, but certainly no better than she had been back in the city. The magic of the cottage waited until the second day. Vivian made sandwiches and they sat in the shade under Holly's favorite tree, reading in the lazy summer day. That was when Jamie drifted off, her tablet sliding from her hand.

A scant hour later Jamie woke, but it began the restfulness that was well needed. That night she slept like a rock, deep into the morning, and woke up looking actually good for a change. She'd been bright eyed for a change, eager for something to do with her still limited energy. The short walk along the shore was all Jamie was really up for, making it back with a case of common tired and not the bone weary exhaustion.

"Why am I so tired?" Jamie complained as she sat inside on the couch.

"Healing takes a lot of energy. Hungry?"

"God. Yes."

"How about I fire up the grill? We have some chicken."

"Ugh." Making a face, Jamie leaned back and craned her neck to study Vivian. "How are you always so energetic?"

Vivian laughed. "You've seen me dead ass tired, McGann. Fell asleep in the middle of a movie."

Her girlfriend giggled. "And so tired you asked me to move in without a thought in your pretty head."

"At least you think I'm pretty," Vivian said with a fake sigh.

"Come here, and I'll show you." Jamie's tone was lightly suggestive. Enough so that Vivian leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her. It was a warm kiss. Not the sort that led to a shirt grabbing session, but the soft kind that Vivian had grown used to seeing between her mothers.

Then, to her surprise, Jamie's uninjured hand snaked up to hold the back of Vivian's neck, drawing her still and steady. "I thought you were tired."

Jamie smiled, eyes closed lazily. "Not for a little old fashioned teenaged necking."

"Yeah?" She moved around the couch and kissed Jamie again.

Well. That could be done without hurting Jamie, certainly. Vivian would have to be careful about Jamie's back and arm, but ... She craved the safety of touching Jamie a little more. Vivian wanted to remind herself of the curve of Jamie's body, the shape of her lips, the feel of it all.

That had always been her problem with Jamie. Not problem like bad problem. The gravity of the other woman drew her in. That first kiss, the one full of hope and promise, had been so unlike the others she'd had before. Jamie was so vibrant and possessing a fervor of life... Outgoing and bold. The things Vivian was not.

So they sat on the couch for a while, kissing lazily in the warm summer day. The ceiling fan moved the air enough that they could forget about the heat. It was cooler anyway, at the lake. The breeze came from the water, passing through the house and out, swirling the sweet summer smell of flower and trees.

And she forgot the pain of the summer. It didn't matter that Vivian's aunt was dying, or that her grandmother had died. It didn't matter that Jamie had nearly gotten killed. The summer was coming to an end and they had survived. They'd made it through and they still had each other.

But all things, even lazy summer kissing. They eventually broke apart, mutually, as if by some unspoken or psychic understanding. Gently caressing Vivian's face, Jamie looked peaceful. "You were right, you know."

"Hmm?"

"This place is good for resting." Jamie ran her thumb over Vivian's cheekbones. "Thank you."

Vivian felt her face heat up. "I'm glad."

Jamie laughed and kissed her again, a little more warmly and with a sort of possessive intent. "You're adorable, Viv."

That made her feel beet red, though she knew it wasn't visible. "God, stop." She kissed Jamie's cheek and got up. "I'm starting food. You don't have to eat."

Her girlfriend laughed. "You like me."

Pausing in the kitchen, Vivian smiled shyly. "I do. I do like you."

Jamie grinned. "See? You are in touch with your inner feelings."

The air felt a little heavy with pronouncements just then, so Vivian turned on her best Gail. "Hey, right now my inner feelings just want food."

"God!" Jamie giggled and got up. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were Gail's flesh and blood. How the hell does she eat like that?"

"She has an over active metabolism. Not hyper or anything, she just burns her food faster than most people. Gets some killer headaches if she doesn't eat enough before bed." Vivian smiled and took out the spices, setting up her rub for the chicken.

The memory of watching Gail eat for the first time had stuck with her. It was the first meal where no one had nagged her about eating. All the other foster homes had been on her to eat. In retrospect, Vivian knew that a five year old who was in the bottom 10% of her age peers for height and weight was cause for alarm. She'd been perilously close to the medical diagnosis for failure to thrive, and she couldn't explain to anyone why at the time.

Over the recent years, she'd come to sort out that her biological parents hadn't starved her so much as just not had enough. They were all skinny in a way that her trained cop eye called unhealthy. If she'd seen the family today, she'd call CPS or a social worker to get them fed. But the nagging, the fighting, had been her biological father yelling about the quantity and quality.

Of course the foster homes had seen the too small, too skinny, too insular child and tried to make her eat and socialize. Of course the kid who'd seen adults fight about food had taken it poorly. It wasn't their fault. They didn't know, they couldn't know, and there was no autopsy done on their case like there was on _Law & Order_ or _CSI_. They checked to be sure the bullet caliber that killed her biological family was from the same gun. They checked the GSR. They checked blood/alcohol levels. They looked for reasons and, finding nothing specific and everything generic, filed it away as one of those tragic things.

Then there were Gail and Holly, who loved good food and had the means to acquire it. They cooked 'adult' food for her, telling her if she didn't like it they could make something else, but magically without any pressure or weight to the words. It was made clear that they simply didn't know what Vivian liked, and were willing to try.

They'd given her freedom. Freedom to find out who she was, what she liked, and what she didn't. The chance to discover herself, the world, and everything in between. It was a gift Vivian wasn't sure she'd ever be able to repay.

And Gail... Well. That first meal was indelibly etched in her memory. Gail eating a plate of food, not seemingly faster, but enough that she was done before Holly was halfway. As Gail refilled her plate, she looked at Vivian's where the fish had been picked at but the potatoes were gone, and asked if Vivian had tried them together in the same bite.

She smiled at the memory. That simple question, followed by Vivian's confused response, wondering why anyone would, and suddenly the world of good food was opened up before her. Mixing flavors.

"It's pretty wild," said Jamie, startling Vivian out of her head. "I mean, she's not _tiny_ like that Sgt. Price... By the way, who the hell is she and why did she hug me at a scene last month?"

Vivian snorted a laugh. "Chloe. She's ... She's married to Dov, who used to be my sergeant and before that was Gail's roommate. Chloe was a long year behind them at the academy, but they're family."

"Does she hug everyone?"

"Pretty much. Even Gail. I think she puts up with it because she actually likes Chloe."

Jamie looked dubious. "She's incredibly perky and intense."

"That she is. She's been heading up the UC ops pretty much my whole life."

The lightbulb went on for Jamie. "Oh! She's the one who was undercover when your mom saved the king!"

"Prince, and yes."

"That's so cool. Do you guys get to meet the Royals when they come visit?"

Vivian hesitated and took the chicken out. May as well say it. "Yes. The older two, Prince George and Princess Charlotte, are only a couple years younger than I am, y'know."

She waited, watching Jamie through the reflection on the window. Finally her girlfriend gaped.

"You met the whole Royal Family!?"

Nodding, Vivian put the chicken in her marinade. "We were teenagers. It was ... Interesting."

"Holy fuck." Jamie leaned back and stared. "Interesting. Girlfriend, you have lived an incredibly blessed life."

"It's had its ups and downs," admitted Vivian. "But on the whole, yeah. I'm lucky as fuck."

Jamie opened the cabinets and took out two glasses. "I'm making iced tea. Real iced tea. With sugar in it."

"Topic change much?" Vivian smirked and put the chicken in the fridge to marinate.

"Well, you not being telepathic, let me explain." Jamie drawled. "I was _thinking_ that you have had some incredibly shitty luck with your bio-fam and all that crap. And it's not like life was perfect since you got adopted, but ... How the hell can none of you know how to make sweet iced tea!?"

Vivian broke up laughing. "How the hell do _you_ know?"

Jamie stuck out her lower lip. "Dad's great gran was from Alabama."

"Oh man, I'm dating a girl with American blood?" Vivian smirked and went to the back deck. "You're sleeping in Steve's room."

Jamie laughed. "How about I start the grill?"

"Trying to win me back with your fiery ways?"

"I actually _do_ know how to make fires," said Jamie, sassing.

"Fine, fine. Light the fires, hose monkey. I'm going to swim and cool off if you don't mind. Come dangle your feet."

Jamie hesitated. "Is it safe?"

Vivian blinked. "Swimming? Sure. I learned forever ago."

"Leaving the grill to swim."

"Oh. Yeah. We'll be right there." She went into the bedroom and switched to her swim suit. Jamie was still dithering by the grill. "Come on, McGann." Vivian rolled her eyes and put the charcoal in the chimney, stuffing newspaper in the base. "Show me your mad matchstick skills, will ya?"

Trusting Jamie would sort it out, Vivian dropped her shirt and towel on the dock and dove in. Sluicing the dirt of the day and the heat off of her body was luxurious. Maybe she'd take a turn in the hot tub later, if it cooled off enough. For a moment, Vivian stayed under the water, reveling in the delight of weightlessness. Sensory deprivation.

There was no sound besides her own heartbeat. And with her eyes closed, Vivian felt free of all burdens and fears and doubts. She could simply be. At least for a while. The need for oxygen drove her to the surface and she popped up, sucking in the fresh and clear air.

"I was starting to worry!" Jamie waved from the dock, her feet in the water. "Isn't it cold?"

"Freezing!" Vivian laughed. It was mountain run off and far from warm, but given the heat of the day it was delicious. "You should come in."

"With this arm?"

"It'll be good for you." Vivian ducked under and swam father out, using the long strokes Gail and Elaine had shown her on her first trip up. Before that she'd learned to swim ... Actually she didn't know when. She couldn't remember not knowing how to walk or swim. Though her mothers had helped her perfect the swimming. The water at the cottage was a natural playground for her youth.

Jamie shook her head. "I'll just watch."

Not for the first time, Vivian wondered if her girlfriend knew a thing. This time it was swimming. Certainly she didn't know horses or gardening or shooting. It made Vivian wonder how vastly different their lives had been. From the wreckage of her birth family, Vivian had grown up in the cradle of encouragement and growth. She was taught the generic lessons of swimming and running and testing her limits. But she was shown the important ones of patience and love. Trust.

That night, instead of falling asleep right away, Jamie was awake and lying in bed with her eyes open, apparently listening to the sounds of nature. Vivian smiled as she hung up her towel and slipped into the bed. "Can't sleep?"

"Was waiting." Jamie's hand found her own under the covers. "It's really special up here."

"Hmm. Yeah," said Vivian, quietly. Her voice naturally softened up at the cottage. Everyone's did.

"It's like... I could sleep forever." Jamie sighed. "Thank you."

Vivian squeezed the hand in hers. "You're welcome." She gently rubbed Jamie's hand with her thumb, getting a happy noise from her girlfriend. "I'm glad you got some rest."

"Me too. It quiets your mind here." She rolled to her side, her good side, and smiled at Vivian. "Thank you."

"You said that already."

"I did." Jamie leaned in and kissed her softly.

Vivian smiled into the kiss, freeing her hand to prop herself up and allow her other to remind itself of Jamie's shape. Slowly, slowly she explored the peaks and valleys with her fingertips. The form of the well fit firefighter was one Vivian was mostly familiar with but just then, as she had needed to earlier on the couch, she desperately craved the touch. The feel under her hands.

She tipped Jamie back, settling them both against the bed, hastily pushing the too many pillows off the sides. Really, Elaine? Who needed that many damned pillows! But forget Elaine. And Gail and Holly and everything except the moment. Forget the world except for this time and place. Forget all tactile sensations save for the soft caress of skin on skin, the rougher press of cotton bedding that was worn smooth from generations of Pecks and washings and dryings that were both outside in the sun and inside in the machine.

Forget.

There was this moment and this woman and nothing more to the universe.

The stars were born and they died. The universe swirled and created itself again and again. And then, at last, as it always did, time returned. The sounds of the world intruded with the whoosh of wind in trees, the croaks of frogs, the serenade of insects. A low lowing of a moose far away. The deep breath of a firefighter, lying on her back, her beautiful brown eyes closed, her lips smiling in a peaceful, serene manner.

There were words, certain special words, that likely should be said. Those words were not ones the universe gifted Vivian with just then. She didn't really think them. No, in the darkness she gently caressed Jamie's face and smiled.

She too felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...
> 
> There will be a part two to this because I got to page thirty and I'd not even gotten Gail and Holly up to the cottage. At that point, it was clear things had to be stretched out a little. I put more of the case back in to further that a touch.


	32. 03.11 - A Little Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take a much needed vacation. For everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two! Vivian and Jamie are still up at the cabin. Gail and Holly are on their way.
> 
> This is a bonus chapter. When I wrote it out, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be 60 pages. Once I hit that, I split it into two and slowed it down a little to give you more.

"Gail, I claim the bathroom first."

"I told you not to drink that third iced tea," teased Gail as she parked the car.

"Bite me." Holly reached around and grabbed her purse. "Get the groceries. I've got the fresh food and I'll come back and get the suitcases."

Leaning across the console, Gail kissed Holly's cheek. "I wonder what the kids are up to."

"Sleeping and sex, if she's anything like us," said Holly, blithely. "They're here though."

"That truck is a giveaway. And gay as fuck."

Gail got out of the car, taking the groceries with her. The front door was unlocked, not abnormal in the slightest since there was also that truck with Toronto plates parked outside, and Gail went right in.

She probably shouldn't have been surprised to see two women on the back porch. She could just make out, from the odd angle, that there was some serious time being made. Vivian's shirt was already off. The sounds were a dead giveaway too. Smirking, Gail put the groceries down and went to the door just in time to catch Holly, muttering a curse about their car.

"Baby, head right on up the bedroom, please," she told her wife with a smirk, taking the fresh food from her hands. Holly was puzzled but obliged. As Gail followed her up, she called down, "Viv, we're here."

There was a muffled curse from Jamie and then Vivian's voice called back. "Hi, Moms."

Holly was just headed into the bathroom as Gail closed the door. "Do I want to know?"

"They were screwing around on the deck is all," said Gail with a laugh. "I wish I'd taken a photo."

"You are terrible."

By the time they peed and went back downstairs, a beet red Jamie was sitting in a kitchen stool while Vivian put away groceries. With her shirt on. The luggage was at the foot of the stairs, waiting. "Hello, um..." Jamie trailed off.

"Gail and Holly," noted Gail. While Jamie was normally good about calling them by their names, apparently having Gail catch them on the outside couch was bothering the firefighter. "You look a fuck ton better, Jamie."

"She's actually sleeping," said Vivian, pulling a beer out. "Burgers tonight?"

"Something simple." Gail ruffled Vivian's hair and got out two more beers. "We have sandwiches from the good place. You allowed to drink, Hose Monkey?"

"Um, no. Not ... Well I'm on painkillers still."

Holly clucked her tongue and waved a hand, passing over a beer. "One beer, and we'll supervise you. The odds of you having a fatal reaction are non-existent."

"Thank you," said Vivian, gratified. Clearly that had been an argument.

Taking the beer from Holly, Jamie looked incredibly awkward. "I _am_ a doctor," said Holly, in her most matter-of-fact tone.

"A dead people doctor," Gail pointed out. "Though she did stitch up Steve once."

The doctor rolled her eyes. "You _do_ look better, Jamie. How's your shoulder?"

"Still hurts. Hence the painkillers." Jamie looked at her left shoulder and sighed. "I'm really glad this wasn't my right."

Gail was struck by a memory and snickered. "Oh my god, Holly, how whiny was I?"

It took her wife a moment to catch on but Holly giggled. "You were more frustrated." Leaning in, Holly kissed her softly. "Gail burnt her wrist on ... what was it?"

"Drain cleaner. And, high as a kite, I asked Holly to pick me up."

As Jamie nodded, clearly thinking that made sense to anyone who wasn't her, Vivian asked the more appropriate question. "Wait, is this the weed house story?" When Gail nodded, she turned to her girlfriend. "They weren't dating yet. Actually, Gail wasn't out yet and ... That was _after_ their first kiss."

"What?" Jamie paused, beer half way to her mouth. "You kissed when Gail was still straight?"

Holly flushed. "I'd blame the champagne, but I'd been thinking about it for weeks."

So had Gail, to a much more confusing degree. "It was a strange time." She wrapped an arm around Holly's waist and tugged her close. "Worked out in the end."

"It did." Holly smiled softly and brushed Gail's cowlick back. "Jamie, you are doing the exercises, right?"

Surprised, probably by the sudden change of topic, Jamie looked at Vivian. "She is, Mom. Every day. I made her put the sling on so she actually rests it."

"Oh, you're one of _those_ patients." Holly sighed loudly. "She's just like Gail."

"So I've noticed." But Vivian looked a little fondly at Jamie. "And Mom, Gail, was never straight."

Jamie snorted. "She assumed she was. Same thing."

"Thank you," said Holly, quite pleased.

"Stop looking so thrilled, Mom. You just argued you kissed a straight chick."

Gail rolled her eyes and watched Jamie scratch at her neck. "Junior, were you necking with her arm in that thing?" At Vivian's guilty look, she sighed. "Jamie, go get that off for a bit."

Relieved, Jamie ducked back into Vivian's room. As soon as the door closed, Holly asked, "Is she really doing okay? She looks better."

"She's sleeping more."

"And sex?" Gail canted her head.

"A bit, but we're taking it slow." Vivian glanced over at her bedroom door, reaching for the bag of fresh chips. "She still has some massive bruises."

"Sensible," said Holly.

But Gail frowned. As Vivian had extended her arm, her shirt sleeve rode up a little and something peeked out. A blue and white tail. "Vivian, what's on your arm?"

Her daughter froze. "Oh."

"Show me." She pitched her voice like she had when Vivian was fourteen and first tried to clean a pistol for Gail using electrolysis, and Gail had no patience for a story.

"Jesus... I'm not fourteen, Mom." But Vivian pushed her sleeve up and displayed a tattoo. A white and blue seashell thing that Gail abruptly recognized as from _Orphan Black_. It was a larger version of Cosima's seashell/golden ratio.

Holly put her beer down. "Hey! That's better than mine are. Beautifully done."

"You're not helping," muttered Gail. "Seriously, Viv? A tattoo?"

Her daughter shrugged. "I know, you're against 'em."

Gail sighed. "Is that some drunken breakup idiocy?"

"Except for the breakup, yes." Vivian tugged her sleeve down. "I got the outline with Lara and Jenny."

Ignoring Gail's mood, Holly bounced around the kitchen to pull the sleeve back up. "It's at least two trips. Nice colour work. Clean lines... Did you get before and after photos?"

Vivian nodded. "Yeah. The black and grey was okay, but..."

"Hey, Hose Monkey, did you know?" Gail shouted at the girls' room.

"What?" Jamie poked her head out.

"Tattoo. Did you know the spawn of Satan had a tattoo?"

While Vivian muttered that Gail had argued she herself was Satan, Jamie came back out in a different shirt and quickly assessed the situation. "Uh... I feel like I should hide back in there. Yikes."

"Coward," said Vivian. "Mom, she sees me naked."

Looking between Gail and Holly, Jamie added. "I like it."

Knowing she was outnumbered, Gail shook her head. "I'm not disappointed. Just ... Not expected."

Holly tsked and gestured. "Gail. It's beautiful and it's her arm. Now. Stop teasing the kids and let's talk about something serious."

Vivian grinned. "Dinner?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Dinner."

True to her word, Gail let the tattoo go. Holly liked it, Jamie liked it, so she was simply outnumbered. And if anyone twisted her arm, Gail would have to admit she liked it too. She was just a little jealous. Gail's rebellions to her family had been small and minor. Also this wasn't a rebellion. This was just Vivian moving on with her life. Being who she was.

The next morning dawned and Gail was not surprised to find herself alone in bed. Two voices drifted upstairs. Vivian and Holly were finally talking privately. Good. She yawned and snuggled back in her bed. The cool breeze from the ceiling fan made it perfectly comfortable. And far be it from her to interrupt their time together. Holly certainly was more capable of handling relationship advice than Gail ever was.

Different moms, different roles.

As Gail slid back into a doze, the front door opened and closed. Ah. They were going running. Gail sighed and got up. If they were running, then Vivian would drag Holly around the lake, which meant they'd both be starving. A quick shower later, Gail was downstairs making coffee and sorting out breakfast. Sweet for her. Hearty for the kid. Healthy for the wife.

She wondered what the firefighter ate, and was delighted when a sleepy eyed and bushy haired Jamie emerged from the bedroom, carrying her arm sling. "Oh good. What do you eat for breakfast, Jamie?"

Surprised at being directly addressed, Jamie gestured. "Coffee."

"Oh man, you are me." Gail smirked and poured the girl a cup. "Our athletic halves are out running and probably having mommy/daughter time."

Jamie sucked down the coffee, black. "I'd have thought she'd talk to you."

"Not about this. She's probably freaking out a little that you were hurt." When Jamie looked surprised, Gail waggled a finger at her. "Honestly. She likes you. She's not used to thinking about you getting hurt. Holly's the best one of us for that. I'm pretty useless when they get hurt."

"Oh." Jamie frowned. "That's... It's what I do."

"I know. And intellectually so does my monkey child. Holly'll remind her." Gail took out sausages, onions, peppers, and potatoes. "Do you eat eggs?"

"Uh. Yes."

"Two for eggs then." Gail started her prep.

After a moment, Jamie cleared her throat. "Can I help?"

Gail shook her had. "Not necessary. Unless you're brimming with energy and helpfulness. If it's just because you think you have to, please sit your ass down."

Jamie stayed still. "What... Um. What advice are you good for?"

"Me? Oh. Sex and work and sometimes relationship stuff. Dealing with angst and nightmares mostly." Gail paused and glanced at the confused young woman. "I was kidnapped once, on the job. Drugged for 24 hours and shoved in a trunk of a cab. Leaves ya kinda edgy."

The looks that crossed Jamie's face were expressive. Surprise, shock, sadness. "Oh. Wow." Jamie scratched the side of her head with her bad arm and winced a little. As the silence hung heavily, Jamie searched for another topic. "Sex? Seriously? I thought she was kidding..."

Gail laughed. "No. We're pretty open about that. I've talked sex with all her friends. And yes, Olivia and Matty _and_ Christian. Good god, Denise is an idiot."

"Denise? Christian's mom?"

"The very one... His father... Well." Gail frowned. "Chris was more than just a classmate and an ex. He was a very good friend. He died when the kids were seven. But he wasn't Christian's dad, and C's dad is a criminal. Literally." Jamie made a very appreciated confused face. "His biological father's in jail, and I slapped him with a restraining order when Christian was ten, so they don't talk much. Chris left me and Dov and Ollie in charge of C, so we do what we can. It wasn't much, since his mom had custody, but... He's a good kid."

Jamie played with her mug for a moment. "Ollie. Oliver? I like him. He's ... Good. He's nice."

"That is, indeed, Oliver. The only man Viv really likes. Except maybe Brian on a good day."

"Not your brother?"

Gail laughed. "Steven? No, we tolerate him. And I don't think she sees Christian as a man. He's her idiot friend who knocked out a tooth on the tire swing out there."

The conversation stilled as Jamie seemed to take that all in. "My dad thinks she's ... He said she was off."

"Viv? She is." Gail considered her egg options and decided for a quick omelet for Jamie.

"She doesn't like John Hughes movies." Jamie sounded morose.

"She kind of likes _Ferris_. Kind of. And ... Uh. No, that's it." Gail shook her head. "I think we showed her _Breakfast Club_ too soon, but it's not her thing."

This did not seem to surprise Jamie in the slightest. "She has a big heart. Seeing people make stupid mistakes like they do in those movies annoys her."

"The kids or the parents?"

"Both. I think all that crap with her birth family hit her so hard because she got used to you two not being ... Stupid."

Gail snorted a laugh. "She knows we're stupid, Jamie. She's seen enough of it." Gail poured the omelet into the pan carefully. "Thanks for sticking by her while she worked out her stupid, though. I know she likes you." When Jamie didn't reply, Gail glanced over and saw her blushing.

Good. It was mutual.

* * *

Holly peeked over at her daughter sprawled out on the grass in the sun beside her girlfriend. The two were relaxing further down the slope than Holly favored, more in the sun but without the nearby protection. Of course, Vivian wasn't dating a vampire who burned when the sun so much as peeked at her, so she and her similarly melanin blessed girlfriend could soak up the rays with a little more impunity.

But besides just lounging, the physical nearness of Vivian to anyone was interesting to note. She just didn't cuddle or touch people a lot. It had taken months to hug them, and even then a physical closeness of cuddling never happened. No. Rarely happened. Many a time, around seven years old, Vivian would fall asleep with her head on Gail's leg. Never Holly, though.

Even that great photo of the three of them, sacked out in bed, had Vivian a little apart from her mothers, reaching out with her hand to barely touch Holly's.

Here in the sun, Vivian and Jamie's hands were touching. Not really holding hands, but their pinkies and ring fingers were kind of laced together. Holly wanted to take a photo, just for proof that it did happen. But instead she hunkered behind her novel (one in a series of terrible, terrible romances that she and Elaine regularly left up there for each other) and smiled.

"Spy," said her wife, dropping onto the blanket beside her.

"They're cute," Holly said softly. "I can't believe Vivian slept at the hospital that whole time."

Gail sighed and handed over a beer. "Me neither." They watched Vivian point out something on the lake and Jamie laughed. "Shit," muttered Gail. "I'm sitting here thinking they're adorable and wondering when I'm going to get grandkids." She covered her face with one hand.

There was nothing Holly could do but laugh at her wife.

She wiped her face and leaned over to kiss Gail. "You are insane, and I love you."

"Thank god," said Gail, smiling as she kissed Holly back. "Is she okay?"

There was no need to ask which she Gail meant. Was Vivian okay, having witnessed her girlfriend in a quite horrific accident? No. She wasn't. Vivian was not at all okay. She was terrified on many levels, had a good cry on Holly's shoulder at the halfway point in their morning run, and was going to be okay. But. It was complicated. It was messy. It was life.

"No. Not at all. But she will be."

"Good. Good." And Gail seemed to trust the answer. Then she looked out at the water. "Uh… what are the kids doing?"

Holly hmm'd and looked over to see Vivian shimmying out of her shorts and running down the dock in her tank top and underwear. No. Swim shorts. "Swimming I think."

And as Holly thought, Vivian hit the end and launched herself into a rather perfect dive. Coming up for air quite a ways out, Vivian shouted, "Come on, McGann!"

"Usually people use swimsuits," noted Gail.

"Says the nudist." Holly grinned. "It's safe, Jamie, no sharks!"

Flustered, the firefighter took her time getting her arm immobilizer off. "But … you can't see the bottom!"

"It's there, shorty." Vivian ducked under again and, with exceptionally efficient strokes, brought herself back to the dock. "I won't let you drown."

Gail laughed. "I think Jamie's never been swimming outside of a pool," she told Holly softly.

Neither had Traci when she'd come up to the cottage for the first time, as Holly recalled. "Not everyone has a summer home, Gail." Holly put her book down and checked her pockets. Empty.

"True. Where are you going?"

"Swimming. Hold my glasses please." She kissed Gail's nose and followed Vivian's example. Mostly. She'd worn her swimsuit under her clothes, knowing she'd want a dip later. When she hit the end of the pier, Holly jumped, pulled her knees in tight and went for the cannonball. She knew it would make Gail laugh.

Between the three of them, they convinced Jamie to come out in the water and swim. The firefighter was, indeed, a little skeptical of the open water. It was novel to her. But Vivian's constant assurances had Jamie into the deeper water after a while, laughing along with them.

After they came out, they let Gail feed them and went back into the sun. Well. The shade. Even Jamie called it too hot, and camped out by Holly's favorite tree with a cold drink. Gail went inside to shower (and promptly fell asleep on the couch). Vivian, though... She pulled out her rock climbing shoes and went out to where the jetty hung over the water, leaving Jamie and Holly to enjoy the shade alone.

"She is actually insane," said Jamie. "You get how you raised a crazy woman. Right?"

"She's just free soloing over water. She's done that a million times." Holly smiled.

The first time she'd seen Vivian out on the rocks, Holly had nearly screamed. It was only the common sense that terrifying a barefoot nine year old who was dangling from a rock was a stupid idea that kept her quiet. Swallowing the terror, she'd watched until Vivian safely clambered to the other side and was standing by the dive point, before she called out to remind the girl she wasn't allowed to dive without supervision.

A long conversation ensued after, explaining how rock climbing like that was dangerous and not to be done without proper training and an adult. Naturally that lead to climbing lessons for Vivian and Holly. Gail flat out refused.

"She's insane. She is scrabbling on rocks, fifteen feet over water. And she thinks it's fun."

Holly grinned. "I can actually do that climb, it's not hard." Jamie looked skeptical. "Oh what? You think Gail went to rock climbing classes with her?"

"No," said Jamie, and she laughed. "But I don't think you could do that route."

"Well. No." While she blushed, Holly didn't want to admit that by thirteen, Vivian had mastered the easiest routes and started inventing her own. "Its like Gail and cooking, though. It calms her down. Shuts up the voices in her head."

Jamie looked thoughtful. "The ones that tell her she's doomed like her idiot blood family? Hell, if that works, I should try it."

"I prefer running, personally. Or the batting cages. But to each their own avoidance."

"See, I just run into burning buildings."

"How's that working out for ya?"

Jamie shrugged. "Usually pretty good, but I feel like I should have a hobby. Besides books."

Holly tilted her head and smiled at Jamie. "No rush."

"Nope... Good god, her hands are strong." And as soon as she said it, Jamie turned red.

It was hard not to laugh. "Mostly her fingers," said Holly, and Jamie turned more red. Okay, enough teasing. "What do you like? I know you read everything."

"Um. I used to play guitar, but I'm hopeless. I'm not patient enough. I love books and movies and that kind of stuff." She sighed. "I'm kind of digging the out of doors stuff here. I just wish I wasn't so tired."

"Come back in the autumn. It's amazing here. Red and gold leaves, the rain... That weirdo I call a daughter goes camping in it."

Jamie looked wistful. "Is it fun? Camping? I've never been."

"I made Gail go. Once. She hates it." Holly grinned. "She likes looking at the stars though."

"Yeah, but she can do that here." Jamie looked up. "We looked at the stars the first night I was here. It's ... Wow. You know? I've lived in cities my whole life." She scratched her bad shoulder. "It was the first time I saw them, with my own eyes. The sky was filled with light. These little pinpoints, pinpricks, but they were from stars that are millions of light years away. Some of them are already dead. And I just was thinking of all the possible planets and people out there."

It reminded Holly of how Lily used to talk. When she was a child, she'd sit in her mother's lap as Brian pointed out the stars and named them. Lily would whisper the myths and legends behind them. The Greeks and Romans, yes, but the Chinese and Japanese and everything else.

Holly had done the same for Vivian, though not with as young a girl in her lap. While Gail made them smores, Vivian had hugged her knees and absorbed the stories. As Vivian got older and now brought Jamie up, Holly dared to dream of the idea that she could hold her own grandchildren and tell them the same things.

But in Jamie she saw something else as well.

"Have you thought about writing?"

Jamie startled. "Me? I'm the cheap college girl, Holly."

"Hm. I'll have to tell you why this whole family over reacts to the term 'blue collar' one day... But." Holly sighed. "Jamie. Writing is one of those things you can study whenever. If you want to. But you were talking about a hobby, and you can write on that tablet of yours anywhere."

"I guess... What would I write about?"

"The stars. Your first time in the country." Holly looked over her shoulder and spotted Gail still sleeping on the couch inside. "Cooking out. Sleeping where's it's quiet." Then she looked over the water. Vivian was dangling by one hand over the outcropping. It was a stunt she normally did. "Your idiot girlfriend and her insane hobbies."

Following Holly's gaze, Jamie swore. "Are you fucking kidding me? She could hurt herself."

"She won't. As nutty as this sounds, she's really good at that." Holly smiled. "First time she scared the shit out of me. She was nine."

Jamie laughed. "God, I thought she'd always been a miniature adult."

"Oh she's that too. Imagine a mini adult who doesn't quite understand the rules. Most dangerous kid ever." But Holly could only look fondly on as Vivian did something called a heel hook and got herself around.

"She doesn't get being the kid. She thinks... She thinks she's supposed to take care of you guys too."

Oh that. Holly exhaled and thought about that. Ages and ages ago, when she'd been sick and possibly had a hemorrhagic fever, Elaine had explained to Lily the reasons Gail and Holly did what they did. Since the shit bird Gail had eavesdropped, she'd later recited it to Holly.

It was one of those rare things that Holly remembered. "There's a thing. A drive to give yourself to something greater. Its not always about wanting power or control, sometimes it's just knowing you can do a thing and excelling at it because the world needs people like you."

And Jamie looked relieved. "Yeah."

"She gets that from me and Gail, Jamie. I'm afraid that's just how she is. Viv needed something to hold on to, to guide her, and she picked the duty of being greater than herself."

They couldn't be mad at her for that.

* * *

Comfortable in her padded window seat, Vivian flipped the page of the well worn novel. She'd read it a hundred times, almost every time she was up at the cottage, and she couldn't say why but it was soothing. That night, after dinner, Holly and Gail had gone to watch the stars on the dock while Jamie had claimed exhaustion. Vivian left her alone for a while, cleaning up the kitchen and living room.

When she got to their room, Jamie was in the window seat reading on her tablet, using a pillow to prop it up. So they very easily settled like that, comfortable in each other's space without being all up in it. Either Jamie was honest about not minding that Vivian didn't cuddle, or she had accepted that aspect of their relationship. Hard to tell, and Vivian decided honesty was more likely.

There was a familiar noise from outside and Vivian rolled her eyes.

"What was that?" Jamie sat up a little and tried to look out the window.

"Holly. Don't look unless you want to see Gail with her hand up Holly's shirt."

Her girlfriend froze. "That was disturbingly specific."

Vivian didn't put her book down. "Gail's voice is higher when they're like that. Just give it a minute. You'll hear."

Jamie didn't say anything and, after a short while, a very similar noise was heard. "Oh my god. On the lounger?"

"Probably the deck couch." Vivian reached up and behind her to slide the window more open more. "Moms! Get a room!"

Laughter, amused and embarrassed, followed her shout. "Close your window!"

"Shut up, Gail!"

"Shut up, Vivian!"

"Oh my god, Gail, come on." Holly grumbled and, a moment later, the sliding deck door opened. "Night girls."

"Night, Moms." Vivian shook her head and closed the window a little.

Jamie covered her mouth with her hand. "You are all so, so weird," she said, nearly crying with laughter.

"Thank you." Vivian flipped the page and continued reading.

"Are you planning on showering?"

Vivian blinked. "Yes? It's only eight. I can read in the living room if it bugs you..."

Jamie shook her head. "No. I'm not that tired." Looking up over her book, Vivian tried to process that remark. "Can I ... Um. I have a weird thing."

"My god," Vivian said in her best dead pan. "You _are_ a serial killer."

Smothering a laugh, Jamie shook her head. "No. It's about the case."

Oh. Vivian put her book down. "Safary?"

Her girlfriend bobbed her head. "See. You're here. And so is Gail. But I know you're working on the case and we kinda accidentally burst it open. Literally."

"Ah." Vivian closed her book, not bothering to mark her place. "So thanks to the fire, we still have the lab going over everything looking for more evidence. And Gail's minions are following the people, trying to get information out of the junkies and gang members, to see if anyone's seen her. Maybe she has a crew, maybe not. Check traffic cams to see if anything points back to deliveries for equipment. That kind of work. Elaine'd say its the reason they invented uniformed officers."

Jamie looked surprised. "Gail delegates. And you don't have to work because..."

"Because ..." Vivian paused. Did Jamie not know? Well, Vivian hadn't said, but Gail had informed her not to tell anything until a couple days ago. "Oh. Huh. So the robot that led you out?"

"Oh god, who was that? I owe them my life."

"You're welcome," said Vivian simply. It was a plain opening, after all.

And Jamie had not known. "You piloted it?"

Vivian nodded. "Anyway, Jules got reamed out because you're my girlfriend so I'm off the active work right now and waiting for more information from evidence, which I bet will be done when we get back."

Jamie squinted at her. "You look smug. That had to be terrifying."

"What?" Vivian frowned. "Watching my sergeant get yelled at by the lieutenant? That was great fun. Oh and yes, I _totally_ had a crush on Sue when I was twelve."

"Hello, have you seen Sue?" Jamie laughed. "No, I mean watching me fall. Cause it was scary as fuck to fall."

Oh that. Vivian sighed. The truth was that it had all happened so fast she'd not really processed it, and had been useless at her therapy session. Even now, Vivian wasn't really sure how she felt about the whole situation. That was why she'd wanted to talk to Holly. How had her mother dealt with the reality of Gail's injuries?

And Holly had admitted that when Gail had busted her ribs and the car had blown up, an event that preceded Vivian's presence in their life, Holly had sobbed in the shower days later. But the day of? All she could remember was the DAD mug shattering and Steve breaking a door, and the wash of weak kneed relief when she heard Gail swearing at Sue.

That was sort of how Vivian had felt. She remembered watching, on the rear camera, the stairs dropping. The jolt of Rover dropping the last few steps threw the view off. When Vivian refocused, she saw the reflective fabric and then the stairs and then the crash and her world dropped. Because in that instant, Vivian could no longer pretend she was just doing her job.

Vivian exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah. It scared the shit out of me, Jamie." She had to look at the window. The wall. Anything else. "I don't... I don't know how to explain it. I was scared, but that part of my head just put it aside. Because it can't process it. So... Yeah, I was scared, but ... I don't know what to say about it. It just was a terrifying thing."

The room went quiet. Jamie said nothing.

Was that it? Was this the same thing, the not sleeping and the dreams and the not talking about her birth parents? Was this her wall with Jamie?

And then the other woman took her hand. "Yeah, probably not, huh." Jamie sighed. "Okay, I know you're not a cuddle person, but can I maybe, for like a minute..."

The thing was, Vivian did hug people. She hugged her moms, Steve, Oliver, her grandparents. She hugged Jamie. But this moment wasn't about a hug. It was something else. "Yeah, come here." And Vivian tugged her girlfriend over, wrapping her arms around the still bruised and battered firefighter.

With a sigh of relief and that weird sort of sad, nearly crying, feeling, Jamie leaned into Vivian's chest. Her head fit perfectly there against Vivian, tucked under Viv's chin. It was a position Vivian had caught Gail and Holly in more than once. And just then, just in that moment of time, it felt right.

* * *

The bedroom door opened and a sleepy Jamie yawned her way out. "Morning, Gail."

"Still not running, huh?" Gail grinned and poured the young woman a cup of coffee.

"No, not yet. We went for a walk yesterday around the ... Um. Peninsula? The jutty outy bit Vivian went climbing from?"

"Jetty. From jetée, French for thrown."

Jamie made a face. "Are you going to babble about etymology?"

"Not before more coffee." Gail sipped her own. "How'd the walk go?"

Downing half of her coffee, Jamie shrugged. "It went okay. I ran out of steam fast."

Gail nodded. "When I broke my ribs, it was a long time before I was back up to speed. God, no sex for a month and a half. Longest six weeks of my life."

The younger woman looked torn between being horrified and amused. "Thank god —" She cut herself off and turned red.

"Oh please, I know you two are having sex, Jamie. And I know you're having it here. Caught you on the couch, after all. Anyway. No sex means your girlfriend hovers, if she's anything like her mother." Gail smiled and put a fresh biscuit on a plate. "Eat. The exercise twins will be back soon."

Jamie nodded, still embarrassed. "But ... Holly doesn't go every day. Running."

"Hm. No. Somehow I failed as a parent and raised a jock." Gail shrugged. "You run, though. Right?"

"Oh. Yeah. Not marathons though."

"Hah. Holly does. Did. She finally admitted her back isn't what it was. All those years hunched over dead people."

Jamie looked out at the front porch and gnawed her lower lip. "I … So I told Holly something."

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Jamie nodded a little. "I … So I don't think Vivian _gets_ the whole kid thing. I mean, that she's the kid and you're the parents."

That was something Holly had mentioned. Interesting that Jamie had seen it too. "It's a bit of a lost cause at this point, but yes."

"Well… She's kind of like that with me too right now." And Jamie turned a shade of red that was a little impressive, given her skin color.

Gail blinked. What? She frowned and struggled to parse the sentence, the context, and the situation. Vivian was forgetting she was a kid again. Yesterday Jamie had lamented about John Hughes movies. They'd talked about Vivian's issues with men. And how Gail was the go-to for sex advice.

Then it clicked.

"Oh, really? Jesus, that moron." Gail rolled her eyes. "Do you want 'how to deal with my idiot child' advice, or is this a request for me to please go smack my kid in the head?"

Mutely, Jamie waved a hand for a bit. "Uh, first. Please." Then she put her head on the kitchen island. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

"Hey, look. Sex is one of the coolest things humans can do. It's fun. It makes you feel good. It makes you happy. And if you're enjoying it with Vivian, awesome. I'm all for it. As long as it's safe and everyone's on the same page, sex is great." Jamie mumbled a groan and Gail frowned. "It's sex, Jamie. You have it. You ought to be able to talk about it."

The girl peeked up. "With my girlfriend's mother?"

"Why not?"

With her face crimson, Jamie complained. "Because I'm bitching to my girlfriend's mom that she's not letting me ... y'know, do stuff to her because she's all overprotective and it's annoying and I _want_ to."

Gail grinned. "There you go. Was that so hard?"

"Yes!" Jamie looked a little close to tears.

Taking pity, Gail refilled her coffee. "Okay. So this is easier said than done with most people, but don't let her take charge. Be… aggressive."

Jaime looked surprised. "That's your advice? Jump my girlfriend?"

"No." Gail grinned. "Be a top. Or power bottom. Whatever. But you be in control."

As Jamie digested that, the front door opened and a mud splattered Holly came in. "Please tell me you made actual food with protein."

"Carbs, Mom." Vivian, muddy legs and all, was pulling her shoes off. "It's going to rain tonight."

Gail frowned and looked out at the lake. "You sure?"

"Oh yeah. Grey clouds over the mountain." Vivian grinned and bounced in, kissing Jamie's cheek. "Morning."

With a sigh, Gail slide an omelet with hash browns onto a plate and handed it out to Vivian. "I remember when she used to kiss me good morning."

"Not at all the same. Thanks, Mom." Vivian had a forkful into her mouth as she spoke. "So good. She hates eggs."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Holly, chastising. She touched Gail's face and, as Gail turned to look, drew her in for a kiss. "Oatmeal and fruit?"

Gail sighed, not even caring that Holly was stinky and smelly and muddy. For a moment, it was that wonderful reminder that her wife was there. "Oatmeal and fruit," she replied. "Go shower."

"Food first," said Holly, taking her bowl and digging in with the same passion as her daughter. "Oh god." She was practically rhapsodic.

"Still answer to Gail."

All three of the other women in the room rolled their eyes.

* * *

The girls went into town to check out the farmer's market, leaving Holly and Gail alone on the front porch. Less than ten minutes later, Gail took Holly's hand and tugged her inside and up to their bedroom.

Holly grinned. "One of these days you're going to let me try the boat again."

Gail rolled her eyes. "We already flipped the canoe once." She bumped the door open with her hip.

"Can we not talk about that?" Holly let go of Gail's hand to reach back, winding her hair around itself in a bun of sorts.

Laughing, Gail fell back onto the bed, propping herself up with her elbows. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing." Holly braced one knee between Gail's and leaned forward until she had to catch herself with her hands. "Nothing at all." She leaned in and kissed Gail softly. It was returned tenderly.

"Come up on here," said Gail quietly, scooting back and kicking off her nearly destroyed dock shoes.

"Always." Holly let her sandals fall off her feet and crawled up the bed.

There was no conversation. They lay on the bed, Holly nearly covering Gail with her own body, kissing slowly and warmly. After all, they had all the time in the world. All the time to travel paths they knew well, ones Gail had memorized probably, and ones Holly didn't mind traversing time and again.

For a brief time, she felt the weight of her mother's death to lessen. The tension and fears of her daughter's girlfriend's injuries faded away. The danger that Gail, Vivian, and even Jamie ran into, regularly, evaporated. Here and now there was Gail and there was Holly and that was all there needed to be.

As it often did, time with Gail transcended reality. Gail was a force of nature that had crashed into Holly's life, untamable and wild. She was larger than life had a right to be, powerful, filled with grandeur and beauty. Gail was a storm, unbroken, that destroyed preconceived notions and shattered expectations. And Gail was someone who should always be raised above, honored with grandeur and worshiped.

Gail deserved a moment of sublimity.

When Holly heard Gail's heart race, felt the grip of Gail's hands on her back and arms and head, heard the quickened breath, felt the tension build and build, and then fly apart... It was then that Holly felt like a conductor of the finest music since the formation of the earth. She was in awe again and again, timelessly, forever, of the woman who captured her heart and soul. She could stay like this forever, savoring everything that they were.

Yet, as often was the case, Gail rose to the unspoken challenge. The return of favors. The slow touches that knew what she liked and where. The firm grasp and not so gentle movements that drove Holly to the edge of everything.

Holly felt her own sublimity in a less grandiose sense. She felt, as she reached the wonderful peak of pleasure, as if she had changed directly from human to vapor. That the heat Gail brought out in her altered her very matter and state... And then she was, again, human.

In the time that Holly caught her breath, Gail held her close, saying small words under her breath. Nothing deep. Just words like 'I love you' and 'you are so beautiful.' Words that made Holly laugh a little and nestle her head on Gail's shoulder.

"Why are you laughing now, nerd," asked Gail, kissing Holly's forehead.

"Because I'm happy." Holly put her hand on Gail's collarbone and looked at the color difference. "Thank you."

"Any time." Gail covered the hand with her own.

"For everything." Holly rubbed her cheek on Gail's skin.

"Ah." And Gail exhaled gently. "I miss her too."

Holly squeezed Gail tightly for a moment. "When did it stop hurting?"

"Hasn't yet," said Gail softly. "And I hated him."

"At least it was quick."

Gail made a soft noise. "Relatively painless."

Theoretically at least. But yes. It was probably quite painless. Holly sighed. She could hope for that for both of them, but at the same time it felt morbid today. Even for them. "Maybe I can convince Vivian to name her daughter Lily."

Her wife laughed loudly then. "Stop counting your diapers before they hatch, nerd."

Holly grinned and propped herself up to kiss Gail's nose. "Grandma Gail. You'll have to stop dying your hair when that comes around."

"Never!"

"One day everyone's going to find out you're a ginger, Ms. Peck."

"That's Inspector Peck," replied Gail, primly.

"Mrs. Inspector Peck." Holly shook her head and let her hair cascade down over them like a curtain. "My very lovely Mrs."

"I am, you know." Gail smiled and tugged Holly by her hips so that she was on top of the blonde. "Yours."

They were well into what naturally followed a remark like that when Gail paused and snorted a laugh that Holly only felt. A moment later, when Holly could hear something besides the pounding of her own blood, she recognized the cause of Gail's laugh.

"That's your daughter you know," Holly said, giddily laughing.

"Mm. I'd noticed." Gail kissed her neck. "Play time is, alas, over. You sure you want grandbabies? We'd be on the hook for taking them up here on long weekends. Not as many sex only trips."

Holly smiled and stretched, sitting up. "Yes. I'd like to see little diapered or not Pecks running around. Even if they never have your skin and eyes, or mine for that matter." She looked down at Gail. "Birth, adoption, kidnapping. However she does it, I think she will and I will love whomever she brings to us, however she does it. Because she is like you. Her heart is too big."

Quietly, Gail blinked up at her. "And you said I'm the glib tongued."

"Oh I think I proved my tongue's talents just fine, thank you."

Gail laughed and shoved Holly's leg before rolling out of the bed. "Come on, Dr. Stewart, sex goddess. Shower and I'll make lunch with whatever the monkeys brought home."

"Oh fine." Holly grinned and watched Gail walk into the bathroom. The shower was too small for both of them (not that they'd not tried once or twice before) so Holly settled for stripping the bed.

She swapped with Gail, who kicked the bundle of sheets to the door and hunted up some clothes. Though when Holly came back out, Gail was on the bedroom balcony, holding up her phone. "Gail Peck, what are you doing?"

"Collecting evidence."

Oh dear. Holly pulled on shirts and shorts and went out to see what her wife was paying attention to. There, on the end of the dock, were two young adults, their feet dangling in the water. Making out. Vivian's back was to them, turned at what was probably an awkward and uncomfortable angle, but Jamie had an arm around her neck and was clearly just fine with things.

"You, Gail, are a pervert."

"Am not... Now. Do you remember where I put that water balloon launcher?"

Holly blinked. "The slingshot? I thought you locked it up."

"Right!" Gail ran back into the bedroom and popped open the gun safe. She'd locked it up after pre-teen Vivian discovered it in Steve's room and inquired as to its dangerous nature. It could, if used properly, take down a human. If someone put a rock in it. Gail, however, pulled out a box of water balloons.

"Oh my god, you can't possibly be serious."

"Can and am. I used to hit Steve from the roof." Gail chortled and filled some balloons up.

Holly hesitated. She wanted to call out a warning to the kids. At the same time, she wanted to see if Gail could actually hit them with a water balloon. "Every time you miss, I get a point," said Holly at length.

"Challenge accepted. First to five picks dinner."

"Deal." Holly picked up Gail's phone and tapped the video on. "Recording for posterity."

With a shit-eating grin, Gail loaded her first weapon. "Fire in the hole..."

* * *

The thunder woke her up mid storm.

Vivian craned her neck and squinted at the sky from her bed. Thick, black, thunderclouds, obfuscating the night sky and obliterating the moon. Just like she'd predicted the morning before... No. That morning. Maybe. She wasn't quite sure how early it was.

"No running in the morning, huh?"

"Not with lightning, no," she told Jamie and closed her eyes again, listening to the rain unleash itself onto the world.

The bed creaked a little as her girlfriend scooted around and curled around her. "Morning."

That was novel. Jamie wasn't a morning person. Vivian just smiled a little. "What time is it?"

"Just after one something." They'd all gone to bed around eleven after it was deemed too cloudy to star gaze and no one had an interest in playing games. Especially not after Gail's mid-afternoon attack with those fucking water balloons. Jamie had fallen right asleep and Vivian had seen no reason not to as well.

"You are way too awake," she complained, and hunkered down. The cool breeze was a welcome respite from the heatwave, she had to admit, but Vivian had dressed for warm.

"I've never seen rain like this," said Jamie, kissing her cheek and moving away.

Oh. Vivian opened her eyes and thought about that for a moment. Water pouring on the dock and the deck and the lake. The first time she'd seen it, not even ten, it had been magical. "We might make a fire, if it gets cold enough."

"Wow? Really?" Jamie sounded like a giddy child and the bed shifted again.

Finally, Vivian rolled over to look. Her girlfriend was sitting up, hugging a pillow and leaning on the headboard, watching the rain. She was supposed to say something here. She didn't know what. Sometimes she forgot that there wasn't just one kind of phenomenally screwed up childhood to be had. Jamie's family didn't celebrate holidays, for whatever reason. Her parents fought a lot. She'd never seen the woods before.

Those were all things Vivian took a little bit for granted now. Gail and Holly fought, but they did it from a place where everyone knew it was love. Even the time they'd had a row about Holly not being safe enough in the field, it was all about how Gail was terrified of losing her. The quibbles about where to put the couch after the remodel had seemed so minor. A hand was never raised. A glass was never shattered.

And holidays were a time to goof around (which really wasn't different from any other day with her moms to be honest). The cottage was a place to sleep and rest and play and (for Gail and Holly) have sex when they thought Vivian couldn't hear them. Well. Maybe Holly thought. Gail just didn't mind.

She was so incredibly lucky. To have been adopted by her mothers. To have been given the room to grow and the trust to do it at her own pace. To be able to do what she loved. To find someone who was willing to put up with her, call her on her bullshit, and fight her when she needed it.

Silently, Vivian reached up and brushed the back of her hand along Jamie's thigh and knee.

When Jamie made a happy sort of sound, Vivian absently kept stroking the toned leg, listening to the rain. It came and went, getting stronger and then pausing before a shudder and flash and sound and fury ripped the night sky apart.

"I could live up here," said Jamie quietly, her voice barely audible over the weather.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Small town fireman. Put out chimney fires. Save cats from trees. You could be my small town cop girlfriend, all sexy and no one to shoot at you."

Vivian yawned. "Speed traps and illegal hunters?"

"Peaceful."

Processing that for a moment, Vivian shook her head. "No. It would be worse. Forest fires. And serial killers."

Jamie slapped her shoulder. "Wow, way to ruin my romantic fantasy, Peck."

"Ow!" It hadn't hurt at all, but she smiled. "That actually sounds kinda nice. Dull, but nice."

Her girlfriend stretched her arms above her head, wincing a little as she moved her shoulder the wrong way. "Dull is something I don't think I'd ever call my life with you." She fell backwards onto the bed and then rolled over to drape herself over Vivian's stomach. "Thank you."

Vivian smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it here."

"God, who wouldn't." Jamie sighed and shuddered as another boom rocked the house. "Serious question … Are we in danger?"

"From the storm? Nah. Power might go out." Vivian reached down and toyed with Jamie's hair. "Come back to sleep?"

"You can sleep through this?"

Vivian shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Jamie rolled to her side, resting her weight on Vivian's hip. "I'm really awake." Vivian was about to comment on how she could tell when she glanced and caught sight of Jamie's face. That was _not_ a sleepy face.

No no. Vivian knew that face. It had looked up at her more than once, usually from when Jamie (constantly cold) had been wrapped like a burrito in all the blankets while Vivian got up for whatever reason. The face that asked her, wordlessly, to come back to bed. To come back under the covers. To come back to _her_.

"Oh," said Vivian, surprised and at a small loss for words. Jamie had not really made a move on her since the accident. Not with a look like this. Not with a look of intent.

"I mean, I get if you're tired, but I'm not, and that is not a deal breaker." Her voice dropped a little, suggestive and warm.

And right there, her brain stopped her mouth — short circuited. Vivian felt herself blush. Jamie wanted her. To make love to her. Which, yes, she knew in the hypothetical way, but this felt different. This was clearly Jamie saying she was going to be in charge. "Uh…" Vivian could have kicked herself for the lack of eloquence in the moment, but she struggled to find the words to tell Jamie that she didn't have to. "You don't have to—"

"Yeaaaaah hush." Jamie's hand ran across the blanket. "You have been doing a very good and nice job taking care of me. In more ways than one."

There were arguments on her tongue. Like 'you dislocated your shoulder' and 'there is a bruise the size of my hand on your back still' and so on. Every single argument was chased out of Vivian's head by Jamie's smile and the hand that pulled down the blanket and pushed up her shirt. Train of thought derailed. No survivors.

It started rather slowly, tentatively, but Jamie was quite adamant about being in charge just then. And in short order, Vivian was in absolutely no place to argue or complain. She'd self-starved herself of those things for the past two weeks, which wasn't that long at all. And god knew she'd gone longer without sex before, not even counting the weeks where she'd been an idiot. Besides, there _had_ been sex, but as Jamie had pointed out, it was Vivian taking care of Jamie, and not the other way around.

How easily Vivian had forgotten exactly how good Jamie was at that sort of thing. Most people Vivian had dated were more experienced than she was. It didn't take much, of course, but with the exception of Olivia, all of Vivian's girlfriends had slept with more women. Counting Olivia, every one of them had slept with more people. Jamie too. And that experience showed in many ways.

Those things didn't bother Vivian at all. While she had a hell of a time reading people, reading bodies was easy. Following the movements, the reactions of a woman in bed played to Vivian's natural talents. She had no idea where or how Jamie had perfected her technique and style, but she was amazing. Jamie knew how to touch and evoke everything.

The storm raged, lighting splitting the sky as Jamie's hands traversed the slopes and curves of Vivian's body. Warm fingers and lips traced her muscles, teeth nipped at her skin, and Vivian started to lose track of the meaning of time. She rose and fell and rose again, knowing only that Jamie wanted her.

Eventually the storm broke, but Vivian could honestly not have told a soul when it happened.

She lay in the bed, helplessly at peace and relaxed and content in every single possible way. Except maybe her stomach, which was pointing out it needed to be fed. Loudly.

"Wow," said Jaime, laughing, her head pillowed on Vivian's stomach. "That was loud enough to wake your moms."

Vivian covered her face with her arms. "I need a lot of fuel."

"Clearly." Jamie kissed her stomach, which certainly made it hard to think about breakfast. "Even though you're not running?"

She shook her head. "Not after that. No." Vivian peeked down at Jamie, who was tracing lines on her stomach. "That is very distracting."

"You didn't mind it a bit ago."

"Didn't say I minded it."

It was, in fact, the closest they came to actually cuddling. The after sex lingering, where Jamie just wanted to touch her for a while, had been an eventual thing. At first it was brief, but as they turned their dating history from weeks to months and now a year and more, the firefighter just liked to touch Vivian. And much to her own surprise, Vivian didn't mind it. Scratch that. She liked it.

She could lay like that for hours, just feeling Jamie's skin on her own, reveling in the simple pleasure.

Her stomach, on the other hand, was vocal. Jamie broke into giggles after another gurgle. "Okay get up. I'm gonna watch your naked ass."

Vivian rolled her eyes and got out of bed. It wasn't even three AM and she was starving. "Screw you."

"We did that."

"Ugh, when did I start dating my mother?" She flipped Jamie off, who kept laughing, and went to take a shower.

* * *

"You sure you two don't want to stay longer?" Gail tucked her legs up under her and got comfortable on the lounge couch.

"No," said Vivian. She glanced at Jamie in a neighboring chair, who shook her head. "We'll head back down tomorrow. Pack up Jamie's stuff. Trick C into helping. And I go back to work Monday."

Jamie chimed in. "I have next week off still. God, I'm going to be bored."

"You can unpack," suggested Vivian. She looked amused, as if that had been part of an ongoing conversation.

"Weren't you the one who said I should rest my arm?"

"Oh I think you proved your arm is fine enough for light work."

"Light work?" Jamie abruptly stopped and turned pink. "Viv... Your mom is right here."

Vivian looked at Gail and did a fake double take. "Well shit. Mom, did you know I had sex last night?"

Gail gasped in mock horror. "You know, so did I!"

"I hate both of you." Jamie groaned and covered her face with her hands.

Ignoring Jamie's discomfort, Gail went on. "The storm was impressive. I thought we might loose power."

"So did I," admitted Vivian. "Jamie was talking about what it would be like to live here."

"Oh, no," Gail shook her head. "First of all, they already have a lesbian cop." Vivian snorted a laugh and Gail explained for Jamie. "Kate Jones, the deputy. Big ol' lesbian. Used to hit on Vivian, but my girl's as thick as a brick."

Her daughter flipped her off. "Bite me."

"I think your girlfriend did enough of that."

"Gail, stop it," said Holly on her entrance with a tray of food in bowls. "Jamie, I'm afraid you're going to have to learn to tell her to fuck herself if you want to stand a chance here. Gail's a total asshole."

Gail beamed up at her wife. "You love me."

"Yes, well. You're _my_ asshole." Holly kissed Gail's forehead as she put the tray down.

Vivian snorted a laugh and reached over for a bowl. "Is this the fruit from the market?"

"Since you were disinclined to go pick wild ones for me," said Holly. "Fruit and whipped cream. The extent of my cooking skills."

Both Gail and Vivian protested, nearly as one.

"Mom!"

"Holly!"

Holly broke up laughing. "Any time you need an ego boost."

"Youngest chief medical examiner in the history of Toronto, and she needs an ego bump with comments about her cooking," said Vivian. She took a bite of her food and continued. "Internationally celebrated for her work. Published. Successful wife and parent. But you gotta compliment the food."

Jamie made a face. "I'm not sure about parent. Didn't anyone teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

In retaliation, Vivian shoved a spoon of food at Jamie, who cheerfully ate it.

They were adorable.

"She used to cry when we made her shower." Holly sat beside Gail and leaned into her. "I never figured out why you stopped."

Vivian sighed. "I made junior league soccer and ... I smelled."

"Puberty," said Gail firmly. "She hit puberty."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Vivian handed her bowl to Jamie. "I want to take you out on the lake before we go."

The other girl startled. "Out?"

"We can take the little sail boat, go out to the little cove. Fish."

Now Jamie looked appalled. "Fish?"

Holly cracked up. "Try it first, Jamie. If you hate it, you hate it, but you should try."

Clearly there had been a conversation without her. Gail smiled. "Fishing is fun, but the cove is nice. Great place for beers and —" She was cut off when Holly covered her mouth with a hand.

"Thanks, Mom." Vivian started down the trail. "I'll get the boat out. If you hate it, we can do something else."

Jamie grumbled and got up to follow. "That's what you said about the concert."

"You liked the concert!"

They continued to bicker, in the good natured way, as they went down the trail to the little boat house. Jamie shoved Vivian in the arm a few times but they both laughed as the went in.

"Oh my god," said Holly, giggling. "They're adorable."

Gail reached up to pull Holly's hand off her mouth. "They're totally going to screw at the cove."

Holly rolled her eyes. "We did. But maybe they'll just make out for a long time. Anyway. Eat your snack."

She had to admit, it was a good snack. And as they finished the fruit, watched the kids take out the rowboat (piloted by Vivian) with fishing poles and a hamper of food and laughter and summer. It was the summer Gail had always wanted at that age.

Sunshine, love, food, and happiness.

Gail sighed. "Am I trying too hard?"

Holly blinked. "To ... What?"

"Make sure Vivian has the family experience I didn't?"

Her wife looked thoughtful and leaned back. "No. Not this time."

"Good." Gail exhaled. "Good."

Holly reached over to fluff Gail's bangs. "It's been a long time since you did that."

"Feels like yesterday."

"Well." Holly caressed Gail's face. "How about we make out for a while?"

She wanted to laugh. Or maybe she wanted to get mad at Holly for trivializing the moment. But ... She really wanted to laugh. To enjoy the bright moment of sunshine and happy and wonderful and, yes, make out with her wife. Because it really was what Gail needed. Some love. Some reminder of normal.

"You have terrible pick up lines," said Gail, but she leaned towards Holly, finding her lips easily.

It was so, so easy to kiss Holly. Even that first, odd, kiss in the closet. The way Holly leaned in, the way her lips were soft and fit perfectly against Gail's. That first brief touch of Holly's to her own had changed her life. They were well matched and paired, Gail felt. Holly was just so, so right.

"Hello the house!"

The voice was unwelcome and familiar. Gail grimaced. "Deputy Jones," she muttered to Holly, kissing her one last time. "Round back!" Gail shouted as she disentangled herself.

Holly, amused, sat up and adjusted her shirt. "Why do you always have to mess my shirt up?"

"I like your tits, Holly." Gail smirked and saw the familiar form of a town deputy saunter around.

Deputy Kate Jones was the niece of the sheriff, and thus far the only of her generation to show interest in the old family business. Once upon a time, there had been a 'no Pecks allowed' bylaw for the department. The restriction was lifted for one of Gail's cousins, who ended up losing an eye to a moose, but the rule never went back up. No one seemed to mind, and cousin Will owned the fishing store across the lake. He'd been mad Gail had inherited the house until she went and hired him to fix the boat house and boats therein. Apparently all he'd wanted was someone to love it.

But Kate. Well. She was a year older than Vivian, bolder, and for a brief period of time, quite interested in the youngest Peck. When they'd been teens, Gail had entertained herself with the idea that Vivian and Kate might have a summer fling. Instead, Vivian had been completely oblivious to the concept until she was twenty, and firmly ensconced on her path to Toronto Policing. At that point, she said it wouldn't be fair to either of them, and continued to treat Kate like the summer friend she was.

"Afternoon, Inspector. Doctor. I promise this is just a how-do visit. No weird mysteries needing your city expertise." Kate grinned and gestured at them with her hat.

"Oh good," said Holly, quite relieved. "Can I get you a beer or something?"

"You're my last stop. Won't say no to a beer if you've got Longham's."

Gail snorted as Holly went to check. "Depends if the kids left us any."

Kate blinked. "Kids? Viv bring up her school friends?"

Oh. So Vivian hadn't run into Kate while in town. "Girlfriend. They went out sailing a bit ago." Gail squinted out over the water. The boat had disappeared past the jetty not to long ago. Well. Maybe. Gail had lost track of time making out with Holly.

She didn't miss Kate's somewhat shocked face though. "Vivian has a girlfriend? Lord. That poor girl must've hit Vivian upside the head a few times to get her attention on track."

Gail had to laugh. "No kidding. And you want the kicker? She's a firefighter."

Kate whistled long and low. "Your ma must be beside herself. Oh! Does Old Will know?"

"Must you call him Old Will? He's my age," complained Gail. "And no to both."

The impish officer of the law smirked. "Sorry. It's just his youngest named his son Will, so we've got Old Will and Baby Will."

That was right. Will's kids were born when he was in his early twenties... Making them well old enough for children of their own now. "Shit, I forgot..."

"You did not," said Holly, carrying three beers. "You tried to forget so I'd stop making grandmother eyes at Vivian." The doctor smirked. "I've become my own parents. It's horrifying. Are you seeing anyone serious?"

Kate blinked and took a beer. "Nooooo." She popped the cap. "I get enough of that from my own folks, not to mention my uncle."

Holly shrugged. "It's a curse. You start looking at sixty and you want to see babies that you can hand back."

"Stop scaring her, Holly." Gail kissed her wife's cheek. "So what earned us the how-do, Deputy?"

"Phones are down. From the storm. Since you lot round here are kind of isolated, Sheriff has me doing wellness checks. Make sure you have power, water, and no tree in your living room."

Gail winced. "I told them the tree was too close." She knew exactly who that had to be. The ancient couple down the road (really four kilometers away) had sold their house to a computer start up genius, who in turn sold the house to a painter, who had invited everyone over for a house warming with his husband. Gail liked them, but warned them the old tree near their back deck was going to be trouble.

"Everyone did," said Kate sagely. "They're fine, though. Carpenters are over already. Didn't do much more than take out the window on the corner. No art lost. Just a TV."

"Good. I like his art," said Holly. "Maybe we should go over and buy one? Give him some ready cash for rebuild?"

Rolling her eyes, Gail knew that really meant Holly was going to angle for the large painting of the mountains. She'd loved it for years. "Beyond the fact he wants way too much for that, it won't fit on any of our walls."

Holly pouted, sticking out her lower lip. "Killjoy."

"That's my job." Gail grinned. "Any idea when the phones will be back? The kids are headed home tomorrow."

"Monday at the latest. Lightning hit the junction. They're setting up a bypass but ..."

"Yowch. Anyone get hurt?" Holly looked a little worried.

"Does pissing his pants count? Cause Harrington did."

Gail laughed. "Harrington's a moron. Alright, well if you need me to lean on anyone for you..."

"Nah, you don't have any way to speed up building. It'll get done in its own time."

That sentence alone was why Gail could only ever visit the cottage and its small town and its people. In its own time, the world was a dangerous and depressing place. There was no room or way to push the world along, to create a path. Up here, a person lived what they lived and how they lived and where they lived. No more and more less. It would drive Gail insane. And worse, there was little place for a mind like her wife's up here. Holly's genius needed to flourish among like kind, where she was constantly challenged and learning and growing and discovering.

Maybe if they were different people. Maybe if Gail wasn't as broken and forced as she'd been. Maybe if Holly had a passion for people as well as science. Maybe if ... Maybe. Maybe. A million maybes. Maybe if Vivian had been taken from her parents that time CPS had looked in on them when she was a newborn. Maybe if Gail had never threatened to taze herself in the eye. Maybe if Holly had never considered the San Francisco job. Maybe if they'd met before Perik or before policing or before everything...

Maybe.

"Well," said Holly thoughtfully. "While I dread the day we get cell reception up here, thanks for letting us know. Are any phones in town working?"

"Nary a one. Just the sat phones. You may want to consider getting one for the house."

"Now," said Gail with a drawl fit to fit in. "Where would the fun in that be?"

* * *

Lying out on the upper porch, Gail played with Holly's hair. "It was nice."

"Having the girls up? Yeah." Holly yawned and snuggled into Gail's chest. "Shhhh."

Gail laughed softly. They had turned off all the lights and were technically watching the meteor shower. Really, Holly was watching and Gail was thinking. And that was alright. Gail was often bored by nature's displays. She lacked the patience. But she was apparently content to sit with Holly in the quiet.

For Holly though, it was the stars.

The sky was brilliant with color and activity. The fuzzy edge of the universe. The haze of the long sunset in summer. Come winter, there were days they could see the Northern Lights. Many was the night Holly had dragged Gail out with a winter wool blanket, bundled in warm clothes, and snuggled on the same lounger they occupied then, just to watch them.

The Aurora Borealis was stunning. Holly recalled the first time Vivian had seen them. She'd been eight and Holly woke her up in the middle of the night. Still so small and undersized, Vivian had been easily carried outside to see. At first she'd complained and whinged about the hour and the temperature. But then she peeked up at the sky and was flabbergasted.

On a normal night like tonight, though, it was different. This was just a normal, clear, star filled night. A meteor here and there. The slow and steady churn and rotation of constellations. A light flash of summer sheet lightning in the distance. The rumble of the same.

And atop it all was the sensation of Gail's constant, patient, soft attention to her hair. Fingers lightly running through the strands, pausing to trip across her neck and shoulders. Gail was very subtly trying to distract Holly and guide her attention away from the celestial bodies and more to the body beside her.

Or not. Sometimes Gail didn't intend to distract. Sometimes she just wanted to touch Holly and remind herself that she had someone in her life. Sometimes Gail forgot and remembered all in the same moment that she was married and loved and in love and there. They were there. They were still them.

Holly sighed and turned, pressing her face against Gail's solidity.

"Can't see the stars like that, sweetheart," noted Gail.

"I can see the universe like this." She closed her eyes.

"With your eyes closed and your face in my tits? I mean, I know my boobs are amazing and I am the center of the universe..."

She laughed softly. "You're not even the center of _my_ universe, you asshole."

Gail laughed as well. "Ah well. We had a good run."

"Mm. Yeah. A few good years."

"Here and there. Can't be helped."

"No." Holly grinned and looked back up at the sky. "Those stars, Gail... They've been shining down on us for thousands of years. Millions and billions of couples have kissed under their light."

"Romantic."

"That's your bailiwick, Peck."

Gail laughed again. "Okay, smart ass. Tell me about the skies."

So Holly pointed out the various stars and their constellations. She told the stories of the sky. The myths that explained the world before science. The legends of the heavens. But also the women who listened to the stars and identified them. The scientists who calculated the distance to the moon, who wrote the software and helped men first step foot on a far away object.

And Gail listened to it all quietly, without comment.

When Holly finally came to an end of her memory for the night, the sky was fully black and the moon was dipping low. Gail picked up the thread, speaking of the hunters and trappers of Peck lore. The Peck who had built the cottage in the woods, far away from his mad family, far from the pale, pale idiots in the city. And how he'd fallen in love with a woman in the city and given up his refuge, only to find out that she too loved it. But too late. And so it was passed down, Peck to Peck, until it was hers. Theirs. Eventually their daughter's.

"It's not a fairytale," said Holly at length.

"No. No it's not."

"But it's still beautiful."

Gail squeezed her close. "Let's go inside and get some sleep."

"Long drive..." Holly sighed and sat up, swinging her legs off the lounger.

"Tonight and tomorrow night and then home and we can bring Viv and Jamie pizza once they're moved in."

Holly snorted a laugh. "Like you'd help anyone move."

Gasping in mock pain, Gail clutched her chest. "How dare you. I helped a stranger move."

"Once," teased Holly.

"And I helped us move!"

"After a six year old shamed you." Holly swatted Gail's ass as she went by. "How about you make them a pizza?"

"If I'm unlucky, sure." Gail stretched and followed Holly back inside. "I'm hoping to come home to a lab full of results and threads and leads and make a stunning arrest and be famous."

Holly laughed. "You hate being noticed like that."

"Yeah, but I love solving cases and being a hero." Gail grinned ear to ear.

That night, Holly slept the glorious, quiet, rest of the just. She slept to the cool lake breeze, the steady beat of Gail's heart, and the rustle of animals prowling the night. At some point though, she woke up to the low moo of a moose out in the woods. Moose were still a fearsome for to her, giant and terrifying. But then, then she turned and saw Gail asleep. Her own personal knight.

Holly sighed and ran a hand over Gail's side. She'd long since given up wondering why Gail couldn't see herself the same way Holly did. There was no way to cure or erase the years and their damage, but Holly wasn't sure she'd want to. Would it not make Gail less than who she was?

Everything they both had gone through made them who they were. The good and the bad. And quite honestly, Gail had brought a hell of a lot more good. She'd brought friends and family and laughter. Pain, sure. If Holly could never again spend weeks worrying about Gail's safety on the job, that would be great but... The job was what made her Gail Antonia Peck.

And she loved every inch of the woman. Even the parts she hated.

"Go back to sleep," mumbled Gail.

"Sorry. The moose woke me up."

"He can eat my garden." Gail hugged her pillow and snuggled down.

"You don't have a garden."

"We will." Rolling over, Gail traded the pillow for snuggling into Holly. "You will retire and I will step back and we will have free time for a change. We'll have a garden here, and spend so much time here, you'll tell me we should move. Except there's still no fucking cell service or Internet, and we'll just take long weekends and holidays and be lazy and old and grey."

Holly sighed. "And grandchildren?"

"And grandchildren. I'll sic Oliver on her if I have to."

"I like this plan."

"Good. Now go to sleep."

Holly smiled and stroked Gail's hair. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Mmm hmmm." Gail yawned. "Sleep."

And they did.

* * *

"That is the last box?" Vivian carefully pushed it into place in the bed of Jamie's truck.

"I think so. I feel bad." The firefighter held her arms out. "I should do more."

Both Vivian and Ruby said, as one, "No you should not." They then high fived. Vivian had come to quite like Ruby, and in many ways was sad the nurse was leaving. They had a lot in common, and while neither had divulged their personal trauma, they both saw it. It was in the shape of Ruby's eyes, the curve of her frown. The fact that she never spoke about her parents.

"I hate you both."

Ruby laughed and threw her arms around Jamie for a hug. "You're gonna miss me!"

"Am not!" Jamie was petulant but the tears that had been leaking out all day threatened her eyes.

"Am too." Ruby squeezed her tight.

Vivian pulled her phone out and snapped a picture. "She will," said Vivian confidently. "She'll spend the first week being picky about the furniture and everything. Then she'll pass out at night because she's an idiot and still healing. Then... She will tell me I'm a worse roommate than you."

Ruby laughed. "You sleep with her."

"I admit, that's an added benefit." Vivian smiled and texted the photo to Ruby. "Points in my favor."

"Well, I'd sooner sleep with you, Vivian." Ruby planted a wet kiss on Jamie's cheek. "Okay. What's left?"

Jamie shoved Ruby away and grimaced a little. Her shoulder, clearly, was still hurting her. "Box. Vacuum, mop, sign the papers, hand the keys," she recited.

"You sure about the couch? I mean, you and your tall girl defiled it," said Ruby, sidling up beside Vivian.

"Don't even think about hugging me, Ruby." Vivian took a step back and Ruby followed her, taking a step towards her. They repeated the actions until they were chasing each other around Jamie's truck, laughing.

Oh yes, Ruby was the kind of girl Vivian could be friends with.

As they scampered, though, Jamie let out a surprising curse. "Oh, fuck."

Vivian stopped. Ruby plowed into her. "What the fuck..."

They all looked at the crappy Miata pulling into the empty spot. It wasn't even a hybrid. Honestly. The fees a person had to pay for a non-eco-friendly car these days was incredible. Insurance went up by 10% minimum. Even Vivian's motorcycle was a damned hybrid. But there was the fucking Mazda Miata.

"Shit, that's an old car," she announced. But all Ruby and Jamie did was stare at the car. Vivian sighed and walked up. "Hello?"

A man near her height, with gorgeous locks of jet black hair, stepped out of the car. "I... I'm looking for Jamie McGann?" The man was good looking, but stuck up. Which was weird considering the shit car. Maybe it was inverse snobbery? He sure as hell dressed nicely. He was probably a lawyer. First or second year. That meant, at most firms, he was the rookie and sent to do distasteful grunt work.

Vivian gave her best cop smile. "If you're trying to serve her papers, can you come back later?"

The man looked confused while Ruby snorted. "Hello, Dennis," said the nurse.

The name was familiar. Vivian glanced at Jamie and saw the look of shock on her girlfriend's face. Oh! Dennis. Jamie's last serious boyfriend. The one who had blown up in her face, metaphorically. And now Dennis was here. Well now. "Want me to go?" Vivian pointed at herself. "I can do a last check."

Jamie swallowed and nodded. "Would you mind...?"

"Nah. All good." She squeezed Jamie's good shoulder and shoved Ruby towards the apartment. "Come on. Give 'em a minute."

Ruby scowled and hissed. "You know who that is?"

Once they were inside, Vivian nodded. "The dude Jamie did the whole song and dance to apologize to. Literally. And who dumped her because she ran into buildings."

"Wow. She gave you the whole story, huh?"

"Including the part where she embarrassed the fuck out of herself, yeah. I made her sing the song."

Ruby smirked. "She really liked Dennis."

Vivian shrugged. "I'm not worried."

"Pretty bold."

"No... No I took her to my family cabin, Ruby. It's a couple hundred years old, practically isolated. She's never been out of cities her whole life. Did you realize that?"

The nurse looked surprised. "I ... You know, I knew it. But..."

"I'm not afraid to show her I like her, Ruby."

"Just to say it," pointed out Ruby, sternly.

"I'm working on that. Besides, you get one good breakup. That's it. Not two or three or six." They both peeked outside, though, looking at Jamie and Dennis. "He's a lawyer?"

Ruby nodded. "He was in law school when he and Jamie broke up. Probably graduated. I mean, maybe. He's not smart."

"Another point for me," said Vivian coolly. "Why the fuck does he drive that shitty car?"

"Oh it's Solar-Electric. He had it converted. Some weird ass status symbol." Ruby did not sound impressed.

Vivian tried to price it in her head. The cost of the car itself was cheap. The cost of the retrofitting was ... Uncle Eli would flinch at the price, and he had more money than anyone ever needed. "So ... In debt or rich?"

Ruby eyed her. "Suddenly feeling nervous?"

"Creating a profile."

"Does that actually work?"

Vivian shrugged. "Yes, but you'll notice I'm the baby bomb girl, not the D."

"And here I thought that was because you didn't like the d."

They both paused and laughed. "You're a shit, Ruby." Vivian sighed and watched her girlfriend cross her arms and shift her stance. "Jamie's mad."

"You can tell that from her back?"

"Yeah.. Listen, I hate to even suggest this but..."

Ruby waved a hand. "I can mop and clean the last bits. Do you have the keys?"

"On the counter of defilement."

"Jesus the one time!" Ruby laughed. "You didn't even know us yet."

Vivian smiled. "Listen... Any time you're in town and need a couch."

"Oh no, no no. Well. Maybe if that cute roomie of yours—"

"Oh ew." Vivian gagged. "Ew ew ew!" She waved her hands and walked back outside. "Jamie, I'm sorry, but Ruby's talking about hooking up with C and I can't deal with the visual anymore. Ugh. Can we go home and watch that drama about the chef?"

Jamie stared at her for a moment, hovering on the border between anger and relief. "Knife's Edge? I thought you hated it."

"I hate watching ongoing TV. But it's not bad. The line chef is cute, with her baseball hat and her shitty Italian accent."

Relief won out and Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, why do I put up with you?"

"Because I'm awesome." Vivian beamed and physically interrupted the rest of the conversation. It was something she'd seen Gail do a million times, usually at the Penny. She stepped beside Jamie, not arrogantly or overbearing, not even really possessive in that ownership way. No, Vivian kept a little space between herself and Jamie, and she smiled in her absolute, best, Peck way, projecting slight menace.

The smile said 'don't even try it.'

The smile warned Dennis that he was on dangerous grounds.

The smile made it clear Vivian was not to be fucked with.

And damn but it worked. Dennis took a slight step back. "Oh," he said, surprised.

Vivian arched an eyebrow. "Dennis, right?" She extended her hand, still smiling like Gail at her most impish.

"Uh. Oh. So you're... Vivian." But he shook Vivian's hand, nervously.

"Like I said." Jamie sounded annoyed now, no... Angry. At Dennis, though, not Vivian. "You didn't have to come all this way. I'm fine."

Dennis glared at Vivian. "You're okay with her running into burning buildings?"

Well that was a strange thing to be upset about when it came to dating a firefighter. When Jamie had explained about her breakup with Dennis, she'd talked about the hours being a problem. She'd talked about the different backgrounds. But Jamie had never said that the _danger_ was the reason.

"Well. She's a fire fighter," said Vivian slowly. "I knew that before we started dating." She looked down at Jamie, making sure she wore a confused expression. "I thought you said you two went out when you were in your first year."

"We did," replied Jamie. The firefighter looked doubtful, but let Vivian lead the conversation.

Slowly, Vivian looked back at Dennis. "So... What? You met a girl who's selfless and caring and puts others before herself and you like that, except the cost that it comes with? Wow... So you like the idea of Jamie, more than Jamie. Good to know." She shook her head. "You ready, McGann?"

There was a pause and Jamie nodded. "Yeah... Yeah. Just let me..." She half turned and saw Ruby leaning in the door.

"Shoo. I want this place all to myself, Jamie."

But they did hug, Jamie and Ruby, and they promised to do dinner before Ruby left town, and Vivian just stood by the truck and loomed a little. She had height, and more than once Elaine had told her that the trick to being imposing was to just be quiet and exude her physical merits without doubt.

It worked.

Dennis leaned away from her. "So. You're not what I expected."

"Oh?"

"Her other girlfriends. They're girly."

Vivian frowned. Why would he do that? He thought it would bother her maybe? Or... "Psychological shit, huh?" She tilted her head, measuring how she wanted to delve into this.

Dennis frowned as well. "Didn't expect that. You look ... blue collar."

She couldn't help it. Vivian laughed. History came around and around in the oddest of ways. "Oh man, wow." She laughed so hard, Jamie startled and Dennis backed up a step. "Brother," said Vivian, falling into an Oliverism. "Don't even try."

"Hey, you okay?" Jamie touched Vivian's arm.

"Yeah, all good." Vivian grinned. "Let's go."

Clearing his throat, Dennis addressed Jamie. "Jamie..."

But Jamie said nothing to Dennis. She just shook her head and got into the truck.

They got four blocks before Jamie said anything. "I cannot fucking believe him." Vivian arched her eyebrows. "He didn't ... I have no idea how he found out I was hurt, but he's apparently been looking for my truck."

Stalker much? Vivian made a note to run his plates later. "Which has conveniently been parked in the lot at my— our place or at the cabin. Ah."

"Correct." Jamie sneered. "God. I'm so pissed at him."

That was a side of her girlfriend she'd never seen before. Jamie was not the one who got mad like that. "Well." Vivian sighed. This was a new concept to her. "He's stupid."

Jamie barked a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. How can someone not love the selfless part of you? I mean... You get it, Jamie. You get how we have to be a part of something bigger than ourselves." Vivian shook her head. "Being something to make the world better."

Her girlfriend went quiet. That wasn't good. Vivian glanced over at the next stop light and caught the look of abashed delight on Jamie's face.

"You love that about me?"

"Uh, yeah?" Vivian frowned, not entirely sure what brought on the look. She went over what she'd said and paused. Oh.

Love.

Did she? Vivian wanted to frown in thought and realized that was stupid. And it was a hell of a thing. She knew what love looked like. Gail and Holly were one extreme, certainly, but she'd seen Celery and Oliver as well. They were in love, but not as smitten as her own parents. And then there was Dov and Chloe, who fought passionately and loved passionately.

But what did that mean for her? Vivian feared her passions, that they'd drive her into madness, like her biological family.

"I ... I love at about you too," said Jamie slowly. And Jamie turned beet red. "I hate that you don't blush much."

Vivian grinned. "Self defense. I had to learn with Gail around."

"God." Jami laughed, the mood lightening. "She's a brat."

"I know." Vivian laughed as well. "Okay. That was awkward, huh?"

"A bit, yeah." Jamie reached over and squeezed Vivian's shoulder. "Okay. We're okay." She sighed deeply. "I should have jumped off that cliff with you, at the cottage."

Vivian nodded. "You know this is new for me too..."

"I'd really rather run into a building on fire than talk about my feelings," muttered Jamie.

"I'd rather defuse a bomb."

They broke out laughing again. "You're insane, Viv. I like you. Let's talk about something else. Like... Um. Work! You've been back. How is it?"

Vivian pulled into the garage. "Collins tried to hug me."

Jamie made a face. "Seriously? You hate hugs."

"He used to be engaged to my mom. To Gail." Vivian hopped out. "And yes, thats creepy."

"That's beyond creepy. Fifteen is incestuous." Jamie shuddered and picked up a poster tube from the back of the truck. "Do you have a cart or a dolly or something?"

"Yeah. I left it in C's spot."

Jamie quickly fetched the small cart and they started loading things into it. "Does Collins just show up to give you shit?"

Vivian laughed. "No. He's the uni assigned to ETF right now, since there won't be any new rooks until Autumn." It had been surprising, to Vivian at least, that Goff had finally gotten cut loose. Gail didn't like him, and Andy doubted him, but he was turning out to be a decent, if dim, cop. Gagnon of course was different. "He gave me shit though, for having my own case."

The firefighter snorted. "Being assigned to a case isn't teasing matter! How many rookies get that their first few months on the job?"

They loaded up the rest of Jamie's things, which really wasn't much. Over the week, they'd been moving so many things in, it was just odds and ends Ruby had forgotten about. Vivian grunted and pushed the cart into the freight elevator. "It's just that I'm the only person who's seen Safary, so Sue wants me to learn everything about her bombs and setups, to see if I can find a pattern that clicks."

"Better than trying to find motive."

"That's Mom's headache." Vivian sighed. "I'm not expected to solve anything."

Jamie frowned. "They want you to fail?"

"Nah, just ... " Vivian took a moment. It was hard to explain being set up to learn and not be expected to succeed. She knew Sue didn't doubt her abilities, but this was the first time she'd ever worked this sort of case, so the expectations were different. "Finding Safary by understanding her bombs is not really the goal. She tags her stuff, so we already know most of the bombs that are hers. And the Ds try figure out motive, so we can predict where she'll hit next. The lab is looking for evidence from the bombs themselves to find out where she gets supplies. Which means my job is be able to defuse anything she comes up with. Her signature."

"Huh." Jamie opened the apartment door. "Isn't that stuff the lab does too? I thought bomb experts... Oh, well I guess that's you too."

Smiling, Vivian nodded. "Exactly."

"That sounds like a hell of a lot of hurry up and wait."

"Oh it is. And a lot of false alarms. Half the 'suspect packages' we look at are bupkis." Vivian shook her head. "That's why the other half is electronics and robot driving."

"Which you do _very_ well," said Jamie, beaming. She leaned across the cart and kissed Vivian. "I guess I just think of ETF as being the guys who run into buildings and shoot people."

"Tactical does. So does ERU. But I'm in EDU, explosives dispersal. I only walk into buildings wired to blow." Which technically she hadn't yet done, and really only happened in movies anyway. "Though we end up turning off security cameras a lot so Tac can run in without being seen."

Jamie shook her head. "Motive sounds way more fun."

"Oh yeah? Gonna go for arson when you get promoted?"

The firefighter snorted. "Unlikely. I get a bad luck medal for saving Jesus. They don't promote us like they do you."

Vivian, and her entire class, had made constable fourth rank earlier that year. It was practically expected, though. Everyone except Duncan made Fourth within two years. Making Third was another story. She and Lara would probably be the first, since they'd already been tapped for special roles. "How many firefighters stay at second?"

Because Jamie was a Firefighter Second Class. Which really just meant she was out of her probationary period.

"Most top at first. But that's a long time out," Jamie lamented. "We'll make it at the same time, I bet."

"Still. Cousin Shay'll jump to District Chief. She's kinda old to be on your trucks. You could go that way, or the arson..."

Jamie eyed her for a moment. "Wow. You actually just sounded like your grandmother."

Had she? "I like having a plan," said Vivian, petulantly.

"Oh? Come on, Gail said you're just winging it and playing with tech." Jamie smirked and started unloading the light things from the cart.

The word, two letters, jumped out of Vivian's mouth before she could catch them. "IA." Jamie's head snapped up. "You can't tell my Moms. Or Elaine. But... I want to be a Super, do Elaine's old job. One day. Make sure cops protect people, not the— not the thin blue line shit. I want to make sure we don't fuck up. That people can trust us and look up to us."

Her girlfriend stared at her for a long time, holding a box of dish towels. "Viv... You hate people."

"I know. I know it's stupid." She scowled. "I wanted to be Oliver, for the longest time, but I'm not that guy. I can't... I can't be the heart. But I know what malice is, Jamie. I know what people who do evil look like. And I can tell. I could do this. Eventually."

Jamie exhaled. "Yeah? So why is your mad bomber doing this? You just said you hate motive shit."

That was a fair question. "She's not evil. She's doing this because she believes in something, and this is how she fights for it." Vivian put a box of knicknacks on the counter. "This is what 'right' for the wrong reasons looks like. It's like... It's like a protest. She's doing this to make us look and fix things. She wants to make humans do the right thing."

"By killing and putting lives at risk," said Jamie flatly.

Vivian held her hands out to the side. "I'm not saying she shouldn't be punished. She's got to know the risks of this kind of thing. But she's accepting it."

"Accepting it for herself is one thing. Jesús could have died."

The unspoken was, of course, that Jamie could have died.

"Which is why she needs to be arrested. But that doesn't mean she's evil."

"And if it was a cop?"

"I don't see it as different." Vivian sighed. "Look. She's wrong, she's putting people's lives at risk, and she may have all the good intentions, but she killed people. Could have killed the horses."

Jamie narrowed her eyes. "You care more about the animals?"

"I think people who are willing to and capable of hurting animals are more deplorable than those who hurt other people."

Her girlfriend digested that. "I don't see how any of this helps," said Jamie at length. "Safary at least. But ... I can see you doing this... This IA thing. You think about this shit, don't you?"

Vivian nodded. "I do. That's why I hate detective work."

"That is paradoxically sensible." Jamie ran her hands through her hair. "I want pizza. And beer. Can we have pizza and beer now?"

Grinning, Vivian gestured at the cart. "Empty the cart, and I'll even let you pick something to watch."

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wraps up the weird and unexpected double episode. Both a lot and not a lot of case advancement. We'll get back to the case in 3 weeks with Chapter 12!


	33. 03.12 - Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could it be? Everyone working together breaks not one case but two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The force gets closer to understanding Safary and her movies, while Vivian experiences life with a live-in-girlfriend, and Holly and John make a breakthrough that astounds everyone.

As Holly had her own experts in myriad fields hosted in the lab, and had spent decades going to talks and lectures, she knew she was familiar with all types of amazing presentations. She knew what genius, intelligence, and innovation looked like. Still. Holly had not realized until this moment how much of an expert her own daughter was. Vivian was presenting, with charts and graphs and examples, the actual patterns behind a series of bombs.

Beside her, Gail's blonde head was canted slightly to the side in interest. They both had been surprised when ETF had asked to present their findings. Normally Sue's folks sent a half assed report. This, though, this was professional. Vivian had laid out her notes clearly, written the report in a way that non-bomb experts (read: Holly) followed along and picked up new terms, and yet she didn't overwhelm the police officers.

It was also eerily familiar and Holly wasn't sure why,

"She sounds just like you," said Gail under her breath.

Holly choked on her coffee. "What?"

"She sounds like you giving a lesson." Gail scratched her chin. "It's the cadence."

Having never listened to herself like that, Holly frowned and studied her kid.

Vivian was confident, first of all. Unlike Gail. Decades gone by, and Gail could easily give a presentation or a news brief, but she still detested it and delegated when possible. The times Gail did speak in front of people, she was tense and her old self doubt creeped in. Vivian though was comfortable standing up in front of people, detailing out technicalities and ideas. And the cadence... Jesus, it sounded just like Lily, which meant it had to be learned from Holly and no one else.

Well. Unless Vivian had made a point of looking up Lily's old talks from a pre-TED world. Which was possible, but unlikely. No. This was definitely Holly, and weirdly it was the kid who never read Holly's papers.

Oh.

Her kid totally watched her prep for trials and her own TED talks though. Since those tended to be dialed down for human consumption, as Gail put it, young Vivian had watched Holly a hundred times. Specifically she watched Holly practice explaining science to non-scientists. Yet that wasn't quite what Vivian was doing here. She was explaining to both scientists and cops (some of whom were into science), the break down of how matter where Safary set her bombs, they were all clearly built in Toronto, based on the parts and the trace. Plus Vivian was reasonably certain that the different trace was because Safary built each component separately and combined them on site.

"Hold the phone," said Wayne. He lifted his hand. "I'm with you putting together the rest of that, but how do you figure on site? There's no way to tell if the trace is from the placement or the build."

Vivian didn't even hesitate. "The burn tests actually did just that, Doctor."

The room went silent.

A cop was telling a scientist he was wrong about his own lab.

Holly arched her eyebrows and quickly sipped her tea so no one would expect her to speak. Beside her, Gail just grinned.

"They ... What?"

"When I compared the burns... So here." Vivian tapped through to different slide. This one had a chart. "You can see the controlled burn results on the straw. The blue column is control, purple column is with the, ah, shows the use of the accelerate Dr. Stewart found, and the green is a mix. Now the green is what we saw in the field. The chemical break downs had a mix where most of the straw was burnt with the antiperspirant, but not all. And the straw didn't match from bomb to bomb."

A different silence settled in the room. Even Sue looked shocked.

"The straw didn't match?" Holly asked as she put her tea down.

"They didn't ... The _only_ time the straw matched our samples was the barn." Vivian tilted her head to one side, her jaw jutting out just a bit like Gail's did when saying something she expected to meet resistance. That was the look of a Peck expecting a fight.

Holly looked at the screen. "Which made you think that the straw wasn't actually a consistent. Show me the straw comparison." Silent, Vivian flipped to that diagram. There she had clearly recorded how the straw matched samples from the specific locations, but not from their common resources. "Where did you get the samples?"

"Most of them were on record from evidence from the cases."

No one had tried to match them like this. They all just assumed it was expected detritus. "Most. Did you collect the rest?"

"No, ma'am. I looked up cases in the same locations for the rest."

Holly smiled. "It's an interesting thought. Material inside would burn differently, and there's no reason, other than on-site assembly, for location specific evidence to be inside the bomb. Wayne, let's do the follow up."

Gobsmacked, Wayne was staring at the charts. "Holy fuck. Yeah, yeah. Uh. Ananda?"

His cohort in crime solving was grinning. "No problem. Ah ... Officer Peck. Can you identify what parts from what location?"

"Sure. Some, Dr. Ames." Vivian gestured at the tablet in her hand. "The circuit boards we found in the storage unit. The arson was where she made the paintball things. I broke down each component into their logical parts, compared it to the consistent evidence like the rubber and the sand, and came up with a likely... Um. Emailing."

"Thank you," said Ananda. "Finally hired yourself a scientist, huh, Lt. Tran?"

Sue smirked. "She can do electronics too. Best Rover pilot we've got." She clapped Vivian on the shoulder and the rookie smiled, a little abashed. "Nice job, rook."

"Thank you." Vivian's smile was restrained. If Holly hadn't been familiar with playing cards and other bluffing games with the girl, she might have thought it was just a shy smile. Knowing her daughter, however, Holly understood Vivian's delight.

"I'll have the lab get back to you, Sue—"

"Peck," said Sue firmly. "Peck found it, she filed it, she runs with it." And Sue paused, grinning. "Unless Inspector Peck would like to assign a detective to supervise."

Gail held a poker face worthy of a Guinness Record. It was her normal expression of apathy and slight disdain. "EDU is under ETF, Lt. Tran. Unless you're suggesting OC take over."

Sue kept grinning. She was far too used to Gail. "And after I saved your life, this is how you treat me? Veiled threats of takeovers?"

"You broke my ribs and destroyed my car," drawled Gail.

"Saved. Your. Life."

Holly groaned. "Okay, that's it. I'm kicking you both out. Sue, you _and_ Bomb Peck will get the same results as Petulant Peck."

Smirking, Vivian finally dared to sass. "I have a cooler nickname."

"Watch out, or we call you Glitter Peck." Gail matched the smirk. "Come on. I need a word with you and Sue about how _we_ are going to tackle this one."

We. That one word had Vivian puffing up a little.

Holly tried to smother her smirk as her wife and daughter headed out to talk to Sue. She failed, based on the giggles from her lab as soon as the cops were gone. "All of you shut up," snarled Holly with zero venom.

"Sorry," said Wayne, not sounding sorry at all.

"Seriously, she's smart," said Ananda.

"ETF is a good spot," said Ben, the head of field work. He was soon to be Holly's newly minted assistant medical director, a position change they both were excited about. Still, Ben's remark was a bit surprising.

Holly arched her eyebrows. "That's the first anyone's said _that_ , Ben."

The man scoffed. "They're not paying attention. She's got the eye, you know? That look." Ben waved his hands. "She gets the science in a non-theoretical way. The mind behind the science. Not the motive, the builder."

Interesting. Holly had never heard it put that way. "Not a terribly inaccurate assessment," she said thoughtfully. "Alright, well now that a rookie did your jobs, go get the evidence. Ben?"

"On it, boss. If anything, at least we'll get some more samples for the databases."

"We have petabytes, plural, of evidence data in our files," whinged Wayne as he followed Ben out. "Who the hell cares if we know a specific cigarette was made in a certain factory in 1989?"

Ben's voice was lost as the men rounded the corner, but Holly heard him point out they solved a lot of cold cases that way.

"Ugh, Men," muttered Ananda.

"I know, right?"

"If it doesn't affect them personally, it's not a real thing."

"Can't argue that." Holly picked up her tea mug and Gail's (seriously?) before adding a final thought. "I wonder if Vivian twigged to the mentality when she talked to Safary."

Ananda's eyes widened. "That wasn't a rumor? Jesus H. Christ." The woman shuddered. "How the hell can they be so calm all the time?"

"Hell if I know. Call up if you need anything. I've got a lead on pawn shop slash and dash I need to follow up on."

"Sure thing, boss."

Holly nodded and headed back up to her office. As impressed as she was with her daughter, and she was, it was easy for her to slip back into the mindset of the case on the top of her personal deck. A thief who ran into a pawn shop, slashed someone in the arm, and ran off but not before the victim managed to get the knife. Time for some magic to lift prints.

God, how Holly loved her job.

* * *

The light from the city filtered in through the stained glass.

Vivian watched the shadows change as cars drove by.

"You need to sleep," said Jamie, her voice quiet.

"Can't. I'm thinking about thermodynamics."

And it was Holly's fault. At dinner that night, her mother had made an off handed comment about how energy could neither be created nor destroyed, which meant that the energy used in the overpopulation of the planet had to come from somewhere.

While Gail had joked that it explained the continuance of global warming, Vivian had been caught by the notion that, if matter and energy really were constants, where had it all come from. Overpopulation had to come from somewhere. Was this transmutation of the energy from dinosaurs or meteors or what. And where did it come from before all that?

"Oh my god." Jamie laughed and muffled her face in her pillow. "You are such a nerd."

Vivian sighed. "Sorry."

"That is adorable." Jamie picked her head up and grinned, her teeth flashing in the night. "You're trying to solve the problem of the creation of the universe."

"You can sleep on the couch." She wasn't serious and Jamie knew it. The short-haired firefighter giggled and rolled over. "Distract me, please?"

"Oh god, I'm tired," said Jamie, apologetically.

It took Vivian a moment to sort the words out in her head. "Oh... God no. Not sex. I mean, yes, sex, but not right now!" Vivian covered her face with a pillow. "I meant my brain. Distract me with something I don't know."

Jamie made a noise of understanding. "I'm going to grow my hair out."

Okay, that was new. Vivian peeked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I just ... I liked it better longer. Maybe not as long, but longer." Jamie hesitated. "Did ... Do you like it shorter?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it..." Vivian took the pillow off her face and hugged it. "I did like playing with it. But I can, y'know, grip short hair."

They both snickered. "That is a bonus. You need a haircut though. It's all wild and thick." Reaching over, Jaime ran a hand through Vivian's hair. "God, how the hell is it so lustrous? Hair like this is wasted on a girl who hates showers."

"Oh my god, I was _six_ years old!" But Vivian chortled. "I hate how long it takes to dry."

"Present tense?"

"S'why I keep it short." Vivian knew she was being as petulant as Gail, but sometimes that just expressed exactly what she was feeling.

Jamie reached over and ruffled Vivian's hair. "I like it. It suits you, even when it's all messy. Gives you a ... A vibe."

"I'm not sure what that means," admitted Vivian.

"It means I think you're sexy, moron." Jamie kissed her nose. "Go to sleep. A pretty girl thinks you're hot."

Vivian sighed and closed her eyes. If she wasn't thinking about thermodynamics, she was thinking about Safary and the bomb building. It had taken her a while, piecing together the examples of bombs and the conversations she'd had with Safary. Seeing how fast the woman had put together a bomb, knowing it had been safe enough to carry around the bits used, told Vivian that there was a high level of design that went into the bomb.

If a bomb was safe enough to carry around, then either it was incredibly stable or it was built in a way that only a certain action would cause it to explode. To the best of Vivian's knowledge, no bomb was that safe. Even bombs on planes and boats were treated with the utmost care and precision. They had a million fail safes and security procedures and cautions, but we're also built by professionals.

Not that Safary wasn't a professional. It was certainly possible that she was capable of that high quality of work. The trick was they hadn't seen that level of perfection. There was good work, better than Vivian could do consistently (or quickly), and there was artistry, but there was a limit to how much one person could possibly do.

So the best assumption Vivian had was that Safary was building her bombs in components. That would also account for the myriad locations. Build the paint ball things in a shitty crime ridden building where they would do the least damage. Build the circuit boards in a storage room where there was little traffic or distractions. Build the casings someplace there was filler. And then click it all together.

It wasn't until Vivian had access to all the bomb results that her theory started to gel, however. She could see pieces that didn't make logical sense. Why would there be more braces here and there? Why were the design choices what they were? The answer _had_ to be for modularity. The design only made sense if it accounted for rapid compilation and deployment.

Who the hell did that? Actually scratch that. Why didn't everyone do that?! It caused a bit of over design in the work, of course, duplicating effort since some aspects were going to be repeated. And making anything modular and pluggable was harder to quickly add more on to, because the design was limited to what ports it was built with, more than normal.

The Lego building of bombs was still brilliant. Separating control, payload, and casing meant they could be hot swapped out at a moment's notice. It meant only having to carry the portions needed. Leaving some parts out was suddenly safe. Safer. Someone could cause all sorts of drama with those fucking paintballs.

Jamie's snore startled Vivian out of her thoughts.

In the last two months, Vivian had gotten very used to sleeping in the same bed as someone else. That didn't mean she was really accustomed to it, though. She was used to it. She was used to the sounds and movements of Jamie. She was used to the way the other woman would snore a few times when she fell into that deep sleep, and then return to quiet. She was used to the way that Jamie would drift towards her, touch her, and drift back to the other side of the bed.

And she liked it. She really did enjoy the fact that Jamie was there. And that was weird to her. Sleeping in the same room (or bed) as Gail and Holly had been alright as a child. It had always been for comfort. Just like sleeping in the same bed as her sister had been.

This was a totally different thing. This was comfort, yes, but it was also something else, something more. Maybe it was just a different kind of comfort, a different level? Well. That was something her shrink could get into.

A yawn snuck up. Vivian exhaled deeply and felt herself start to slip away into the place where sleep lived. She took a deep breath, another, and then... Then she slept.

* * *

"If we accept the deaths at the train station were an accident, how low of a sentence can we aim for?"

The lawyer looked appalled. "You want to lower the sentence?"

Gail sighed. "In the event that we catch her, I want to make as much use of her as humanly possible. She's smart, she's talented, and she's dangerous." And Gail was, if nothing else, fully opportunistic. She could use Safary as either a CI or a consultant, but only if she could be flipped. "There's no way she'll help us if we don't make it worth her while. She can sit in prison and rot for her whole life just to spite us. I don't want that."

That concept seemed to boggle the minds of the legal team. "Well. We can figure something out, but you don't even have leads yet."

"Actually," said Gail, drawing the word out. "Thanks to the diligent work of ETF, we have isolated two more of her cells. Where she stores and builds components for her bombs."

Components. That simple idea, that solution to the bizarre problem of where the bomb was built had been found by Vivian thinking about building each part separately. She had then expanded her theory to the trace evidence, using it to find not a single location but multiple ones. That was the difference. Multiple build locations. Final assembly on site. And it worked.

"Sorry... She builds in multiple places?"

"She has a ... Think of it like Legos. Safary builds different parts in different places."

The lawyer muttered under his breath. "You can do that?" But he diligently wrote it down. "Okay. I will ... I will work out a potential deal. Have it prepped and ready. Do we need warrants?"

"Just the three," Gail said, a little morose. They needed one for all cell signal on a specific day at a specific location. The barn. Twice now the request had been turned down by the judge for being too broad. The other two were simpler and had more to do with access to potential locations.

"I'll have them for you by tomorrow at the latest." The lawyer made a final note and got up. As he walked out, he muttered. "Legos, Jesus."

No kidding. Gail grimaced and rubbed her face. She regretted taking over the case, in part. Sticky, stubborn, hard to solve cases could be rewarding, but she had a feeling this was going to end poorly.

"Social justice warrior Safary," mused Gail aloud.

That was her current theory at least. Safary was killing people who needed killing. How she found them and why she decided on them was a mystery still. As much as Gail loved solving mysteries, she hated being mired in them.

Thus far, there was no connection to the various different bombings. Random. Connected only in their causes. Maybe.

Okay. So list it all out. A circus abusing animals. A women's shelter that was embezzling. An orphanage that beat children and sold them to the highest bidder. A jeweler who was selling fakes. An antique store that was connected to human smuggling.

All some degree of asshole. Most were pretty horrific. Some were venal. What was the connection? Gail stared at the list of the companies on her smart wall. None related.

"Ugh. This makes no sense."

"Your kid having no dancing ability makes no sense either."

Gail leaned back to look at John, looming in her doorway. "You are aware she was adopted, right?"

"I seem to recall that." He grinned. "I finally got to really meet her girlfriend. Jamie's adorable."

"I would not call a woman who can carry people twice her size out of a burning building 'adorable,' but that's just me."

"Good point." John leaned against the doorframe. "So. Any clues on how Safary gets her marks?"

"Unless the dark web has some database of all the asshole companies out there, no." Gail pushed back from her desk and propped her feet up.

"Probably all up and up on the regular web," said John, thoughtfully. "Try Googling for a list of unethical companies? WikiLeaks style."

Gail smirked. "I want you to think about how long ago WikiLeaks was." When John flinched, she went on. "They're all listed there, but that doesn't explain why them, you know?"

Her sergeant nodded. "I gotcha." His eyes drifted to the board. "Did you get any useful evidence from the barn?"

"Not evidence, no, but we did get some interesting notes. Like she's apparently worked at multiple barns in Toronto. So I sent out the sketch to every barn near where a suspected bombing took place."

Again, John flinched. "That's hella wide, Gail."

"Got a better idea?"

"The web one? Remember the CraigsList case?"

She did. Of course she did. The rental scams. "Oh sure. But they had phone numbers and we had people complaining."

"So look for something about the companies around the time frame in the area?"

Dryly, Gail pointed out the obvious. "You understand that's terabytes of data, right?"

"How did the barns find Safary? Or vice versa?"

Gail stared. "I hate you. You're a genius. Get out."

With a mock salute, John grinned and stepped back out, closing the door. And he was a fucking genius. Safary had been hired from an ad posted on a horse related job site. Gail had the email chain and the IPs used. It was a long shot to assume Safary would be stupid enough to use the same IP, but she asked the computer techs anyways and got an odd answer.

Safary was using a TOR node.

How many people visiting a horse site would do that? Most were just folks looking for jobs, or fanatics, and those two groups rarely were ultra-security conscious. Gail picked up her phone and began the drawn out process of getting a warrant for all internet traffic to HorseWorkCanada dot JOBS that came from TOR nodes.

It was not a fun conversation. Gail had to get the geeks and lawyers on the same call to explain the situation, why it was necessary, and how much data she could expect. The lawyer managed to tighten the parameters quite a bit, but the judge threw out the initial request without much thought.

Knowing it was going to be a long one, Gail left the experts to hash it out and booked a retreat. Safely at home, the house was quiet save the sounds of Holly in their office. After locking up her kit, Gail slumped on the couch and announced her grumpiness. "Holly, I hate my job."

Her wife blinked and looked up from her laptop. "Since when?"

"Since this fucking idiot is smarter than I am."

"Ah." Holly typed a little more and closed her laptop. "She's not, you know. Not more than my serial head bashers are smarter than I am."

Gail frowned and looked up. There was something about Holly's voice. "You have a secret."

Her wife smiled and walked around to sit in Gail's lap. "I'm pregnant."

"Funny."

Holly kissed her softly. "I can't tell you yet. Tomorrow."

Huffing, Gail rested her hands on Holly's hips. "I hate the law. Can't you tell me anyway? I won't blab."

But her wife was firm and shook her head. "Not this, no, honey." She kissed Gail again, still soft and sweet and tender and warm.

"You're trying to distract me." And Holly shook her head, only to kiss Gail again and lean into her. Oh. It was that kind of case. Gail pushed aside her growing annoyance at her own case to pull Holly close and exude strength.

There were cases that, when she came home, all Gail craved in the world was to be held by someone. No, not someone. Holly. She just needed a five minute hug from the one person on the planet who understood her. And similarly, there were days Holly came home and all she needed was the same. Other days they couldn't stand to look at each other. Sometimes it was worse and they could only look and hurt.

Holly saw death more often than Gail did, to be honest. Silently, Gail caressed Holly's hair, wondering what the case was that she couldn't yet be told about. No. Don't wonder about that. Gail knew she could do nothing to tell Holly it was all going to be alright. She didn't know, she couldn't know, and right now that wasn't Holly needed. Right now she needed to be reminded she was loved.

That meant Gail had one job to do in the universe.

Think about nothing but Holly and the wonderful person in her lap. Think about the way life changed with a case, with a smile, with a kiss. With a hand holding moment.

Think about how life changed thanks to a pair of brown eyes.

Think about the first morning waking up in bed with her. Not after sex, just sleeping. And think about lazy afternoons and evenings on the old couch, getting bolder and braver and touching more. Think about that first morning, after sex, when so many things about life and love finally made sense.

Think about the other mornings, sitting outside with coffee and the mist on the lake up at the cottage. Think about wearing clothes they'd never be caught dead in anywhere else, hair unkempt, sleepy and happy. Think about feet in laps, toes wriggling under thighs, and fingers seeking out hands in the dark.

Think about the afternoons in their garden, the nights out with each other and friends and family, the sports games and concerts and dances and dinners. Think about the nights in with a movie and popcorn and snide remarks. Think about walking through a park or a market, holding hands.

Think about the life they'd made.

And carry all those thoughts, all the memories, all the moments, and put them into a hug. Tell her, without saying a word, that she was loved.

* * *

They stared at the data. "Evidence cannot lie," muttered John.

"Well, actually ..." Holly hesitated.

John scowled at her. "You are not mansplaining this, are you?"

She half-smiled. "No, but I was going to clarify that this could be very confusing and misleading."

The detective shook his head. "You found Bethany's missing leg bone. And you know who killed the man who replaced the bone. _And_ you know the pattern of the killer didn't change except for the bone, which means that it's the same asshole—"

"Probably."

"Ugh. Probably the same asshole. Point is... This is the guy."

Holly looked up at the screen where the face of Ronald Siegel, Ottawa native, stared back at him. He looked perfectly normal and harmless. He looked like a random, normal, guy. He looked like a neighbor or a brother or a cousin. He did not look like a man who had murdered seven people, including Heinrich Haan. The successor to the man who killed Bethany Mills.

And yet that was exactly who he was.

A nice man, respected and trusted by his peers. Siegel did not stand out in any way. He was quiet and well mannered. He had no children, no partner, never married, and always paid his taxes. He didn't stand out at all.

But when Holly had his locations tracked to the killings, it was a hands down match until he moved to Ottawa. Then it stopped. No reason why, he just moved and stopped killing. Still, they found him and handed his identity to Marcel and John. Here. Here was the trail. Here was the man who killed the man who destroyed a life.

Holly had dreaded this moment.

She hadn't wanted to tell Gail the night before because there was a slight chance, a possibility, that the results were wrong and she had the wrong guy. But she knew, Holly knew in her heart that she had the right man. The man who was still alive, possibly still killing, and certainly had been the killer of the man who killed John's fiancé. And she absolutely had to tell John first.

Of all the things Holly could think was what if it was them. What if Perik had killed Gail? What if she'd never met the blonde? What if he'd made good his escape, the plans for which they'd only found after his death... What if he'd come back and killed Gail, after they'd married?

All that bullshit about better to love and lose was bullshit. It was a pain Holly would rather not think about. Loosing her mother had been agony, but losing Gail, especially now, would be gutting. Her mother loved her because she had to. Gail chose her, of all the people in the universe, to love.

And here she was, shoving John into the pain she would gladly avoid.

"Yes," said Holly softly. "It's the guy."

"Well." John sighed. "Shit."

"We have the warrant, but..." Marcel Savard cleared his throat. "John, you have my personal invitation."

John looked at the Mountie in surprise. "In Ottawa."

"Oui. I cannot offer you a uniform this time, but if any many has a right to see this through." The man shrugged. "We would like to arrest him tomorrow or the day after. It is my hope that he is either still killing, or he is in contact with his own successor."

"That's a big stretch." John exhaled. "Let me check with Gail."

Holly spoke up. "And Janet." Both men turned to stare at her. "John, remember when you and Gail went to the prison?"

The man hesitated and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. You're right." To Marcel he explained. "My fiancé. God, and I should call my therapist."

"Ah. Yes, both are wise. We would like to do this sooner rather than later, however."

With a nod, John pulled his phone out and walked out. "Hey, its about the case..." His voice trailed off as he turned the corner to the quiet seating area.

Holly sighed. "Thank you, Marcel."

Her friend nodded. "This is ... this result is more than expected." When Holly opened her mouth to object, Marcel held up a hand. Normally that sort of behavior was irritating, but Marcel looked solemn and contrite. "When you told me you had information on this case, and leads, I thought that it would be as with all things. Empty. No answers, only pain." He shook his head. "Now we have answers."

"Maybe," said Holly softly. "Maybe."

"We will find the truth. We always get our man."

Holly snorted a laugh. "Wow. That's horrible, Marcel." She glanced at her watch which pinged a heartbeat. Gail. Of course. She was talking to John and now knew what Holly couldn't say the night before. "Gail's going to approve John going up."

"Good. He needs the closure."

"How soon are they... how soon are you going?"

"If we can, tonight. Arrest him tomorrow. We have the authority to bring Monsieur Siegel here."

So, if he wanted, John could face the man here. If it was Holly, she would wait. If she'd ever been able to meet Maxim L'Engle, the man who killed Luke and Andrea and nearly Holly, she would have wanted to do so here where it was safe and she could hold Gail's hand and maybe Vivian's too, and not be alone.

She was not John.

"Alright. Are we flying tonight?" He held his phone to his ear but looked thoughtful.

"Oui. We have a small commuter plane."

"Yes," said John to the phone. "Alright. I'll see you when I get home. Love you." He paused, smiled, and hung up. "I need to pack. What time and where?"

Marcel lifted his eyebrows and gestured for John to follow him so they could work out the details. As always, the Québécois excused himself politely. While John did not, Holly could easily forgive his distraction. However. She texted Gail asking if they should invite Janet over for the night (or nights) John was gone, and her wife quickly agreed. Good, they were on the same page.

The hours Holly had waited, alone, for Gail to come back after facing Perik, had been terrifying. She'd not known what kind of Gail to expect. She didn't know if Gail would be angry, sad, frustrated, self-destructive, or god knew what else. Gail had, oddly, been alright for the most part. As much alright as could be when the blonde couldn't sleep.

For some reason, Gail didn't think of herself as mentally strong. This was a woman who got shot at and went back out. A woman who would protect a child with her life. A woman who could talk down a suicidal fire bug. A woman who survived years of emotional abuse by her parents, being kidnapped by a serial killer, was traumatized for life (probably), and yet still got up every morning, put on a badge, and went out to try and make the world a little better.

Gail didn't known her own strength. She didn't know she had the power to survive. But Holly saw it, and Vivian saw it. Hell, Vivian latched on to it like a drowning man.

That was the real reason Holly felt Vivian was Gail's daughter more than her own. And 'more than' wasn't really the right way to say it. Vivian saw the broken parts in Gail, shored up by god knew what, and saw the strength to keep going. Of course Vivian adored and worshiped Gail. Gail was Vivian's hero. Gail was proof anyone could be okay in the end. Gail was hope that Vivian could be alright.

It was only recently that Holly came to fully see what she'd given Vivian as well. Vivian had always relied on her for things, like a child and parent did, but now Holly was the shoulder for when Vivian had doubts and fears and didn't know how to express them. Because if there was one was thing Gail was absolute shit at, it was actually dealing with her drama in front of people. Even at the family therapist appointments, Gail was reserved. The times Gail had let Vivian see tears were few.

Holly wore her heart on her sleeve a little more, and somehow Vivian grew to want that ability as well. How did a person feel so much and not let it wreck her? How did Holly handle people she loved being in danger? Holly was, simply, a safe person to break down in front of.

Sighing, Holly wiped her damp eyes and texted Janet to invite her over for meals while John was out.

Holly had her role to play in their extended family. She was the genius and she was the other half of the heart. She cared and loved and supported and let go. And she could more easily see past her own pain to shoulder that of others. Which meant she needed to help Janet understand the life she was getting into, loving John and marrying him.

It was hard, but Holly wouldn't trade her life in for anyone else's.

* * *

It was incredibly hard. The tower climb was the best part, Vivian felt. She'd scaled if many times before in kit and not. This was the first time she'd done it with her new bomb-defusing kit, though, and it was harder than expected.

"Come on, Peck. Your ass is dragging."

"Fuck off," muttered Vivian, shouldering the camera controls. Then she thumbed her radio. "Peck. Rover is in place. Window breach commencing."

The robot whirred and scaled the wall, hitting the window carefully. One handed, Vivian tapped the command in and watched Rover attempt to open the window. Sweat dripped down her spine. She was paying more attention to the tiny video in her HUD, carefully navigating the process of cutting into a window.

Which was why she slipped on the rope a little. It really was only a small slip, not even a foot. And she was sweaty, which had nothing to do with it. But it was her own fault. She'd not locked in her ascender properly. Again. That was the real issue. Vivian had screwed it up before.

"Fuck," muttered Vivian.

"Keep on," said Sabrina, her voice low. "Are you in?"

Was she? Vivian checked the HUD. "Yeah. Yes." She thumbed her radio. "Peck. I'm in. Transmitting now." Her part done, Vivian braced herself on the exterior and waited for the rapid entry team to burst in.

"Get that tighter," hissed Duane, jerking his chin as he joined her and Sabrina. "Seriously."

"Fuck off." Vivian did tighten her ascender though. "Locking in and releasing Rover isn't easy." She'd been practicing, but it wasn't second nature. Yet. Which was why Sabrina was her baby sitter, and hooked into her rope. If Vivian fell, she was expected to recover before fucking up Sabrina's run.

So far that had mostly worked.

"Blue Team, go." Their ear buds all spoke up. "Repeat, Blue Team. The scene is hot."

Hot and Blue Team meant unfriendlies and a possibly bomb. Or a trip wire. Vivian studied Rover's output. "Peck. Eyes on." This part she was great at. Never mind that she was roped up a hundred feet off the ground, Vivian was boss at Rover. Everyone knew it, that was why she was allowed to be on the first team.

Ignoring the nagging doubt of her slight fuckup, Vivian turned Rover to follow the Rapid Entry Team and spotted the problem.

"What the hell is that?" Her earpiece squawked at her. No. At everyone. It was Ivan. "Is it a booby trap?"

"Negative." Vivian heard herself speak and was a little surprised at herself. "Garden variety surveillance cams, but UnSub hooked into them... Monty, what do the bandwaves look like?"

There was a pause and then a laugh. "Nice. He's using wifi to watch us. Peck, can you give him a show?"

"Whaddya think this is? _Oceans 11_?" But she hooked Rover into the hardwired system and set up a loop. In doing so, she ran a diagnostic on the system, out of habit, and blinked. "Uh, we gotta live one." The video had streamed past, Vivian barely paying attention, and she saw the work that went into the actual trap. "He's after something. Check out this."

Everyone on her squad watched the video she played back. Sabrina grunted. "Well fuck. He set up a time delay on the safe. Peck, can Rover disarm that?"

"Maybe." Vivian sucked her lower lip and carefully eased Rover into the spot.

A new voice cut in. Sue. "Peck. Hands on. I don't want you dangling while you disarm a fucking bomb."

No bets on maybes. Vivian nodded. "Copy. Peck ascending."

Someone laughed.

Vivian tucked her controller away, leaving Rover in diagnostic mode to study the safe, and she quickly climbed the story to the window and let herself in. She didn't have on her full bomb kit. That shit was not something she could climb in. But Vivian did take the time to pull her extra collar up and gloves off.

A bomb in a safe.

Studying the charge, she knew that the training exercise would include glitter or noise. Either way, it was enough to amp up her nerves. The rules were to treat every bomb, real or fake, as real. Even a dummy bomb could kill if the tech screwed up. If she screwed up. Closing her eyes, Vivian stopped listening to anything except her breathing.

Once, Gail explained that she liked cooking because it shut up the nagging voice of doubt in her mind. Vivian found that the same happened when disarming bombs or doing any sort of weird tech procedure. Except... only when adrenaline was involved. Lara had not been wrong calling Vivian an adrenaline junkie.

Holly had commented that Vivian probably had some form of ADD or other chemical tweak that caused her to process things differently. Adrenaline was never supposed to calm. But as a child, Vivian learned that she would fell better after doing something that gave her a rush. She would feel a ripple, down her spine and extending out to her fingers, of pure, unadulterated calm.

Like steam, her stress and anxiety would vanish. Her doubts drifted away in the pulse of her blood, and she was calm.

Thank god her moms took her to 'safe' dangerous activities. Rock climbing, extreme distance running, the Ninja Shit (thank you, Gail), sports that let Vivian compete against girls half-again her size. As much as Gail hated exercise, she never failed to cheer and support Vivian and her activities. As much as Holly hated being intentionally at-risk, she went bungee jumping and skiing and rock climbing without a complaint.

When Vivian got older, she realized it was a little bit like sex. The post orgasm rush that turned the world off and ... well. That didn't happen all the time with sex. Not even with Jamie, with whom Vivian felt very compatible. They didn't have sex as often as her mothers did, though Elaine once commented, very caustically, that she'd never met a couple who was quite as overtly sexual as Gail and Holly.

Gail had just laughed. It was probably all that pent up repression of feeling, of love, manifesting itself. Vivian kept that thought to herself. At least her own issues were around trusting herself more than others. And for all she knew, maybe she actually did have sex as much as her parents. She'd have to compare notes with Gail later.

Now, however. Now was bomb time. And as the rush coursed though her, Vivian felt that calm raced behind it. Her heartbeat sped up and then slowed with her breathing. She heard nothing at all and saw only the wires and the design.

Interesting.

The UnSub set charges in a way to cause minimal damage to the safe and its contents. He wanted what was inside. So did she, then. Vivian carefully traced the wires and followed their logic. Bombs always made sense. Schematics did too. It was a puzzle and she was great at them. Slowly, carefully, she found the wire and cut it.

Pause.

A heartbeat. Another. And then sound returned to the world. "Peck. Bomb safe," she said to her radio, removing the explosive and putting it in her bomb bag. "Repeat. Bomb safe. Any chance of getting a bomb box up here?"

"When it's clear," said Duane, and he sounded dumbfounded. Like Vivian was an idiot.

Why would he— Gunfire rang out. Oh. Interesting. Vivian glanced up at Sabrina, her babysitter, who rolled her eyes. "Keep your head down, Peck," ordered Sabrina, her gun raised but safe.

"Copy." Vivian didn't even have a rifle. She had her personal sidearm, but with everyone else armed and ready, she just kept a hand on it for now. As much as she'd insisted she had the safe ETF job, the truth was Vivian did run into buildings with crazed lunatics, usually heavily armed, and did so with the least amount of protection. Depending on how her team mates were counted.

It was only a few moments more before the all clear was given, the bomb box came up, and Vivian carefully put her items inside. Done. They cleared the scene and lined up outside their Tower of Terror (really?) and waited, sweating in the sun.

"Nearly perfect marks," said the man running their evaluation. An Inspector, Bryce, who, Vivian had quickly learned weeks before, was the reason she'd not been first pick. He did not, as it happened, like Pecks. "Except for one." His eyes landed on Vivian.

It didn't matter that she'd sorted the electrical system and disabled the bomb. It didn't matter that Vivian had done it fast and safe and smart. No. The one thing that mattered was that she'd slipped. "Sir," she said, firmly but not loudly.

"Third time." The Inspector was firm and loud. Angry. "Do you understand people's lives are at risk, _Peck_?"

The way he said her name, the name she'd taken, was galling. He spat the name out, bitter and foul, and Vivian wanted to hit him. But she was a student of Elaine Peck. She knew that being a Peck meant she had to be better than everyone else, and that meant she had to swallow it sometimes. This was the time. Vivian couldn't rise to the bait or lash out. She inhaled and replied, still evenly and calmly, "Sir, I do."

That gave the Inspector pause. "The life of my men and women are on the line here, Peck," he said softly. It was the dangerous soft. "Your slipshod work ethic, coasting on candy coattails that aren't even yours, that shit stops. You put as much care into your work here as you do keeping that stolen name, and maybe, just maybe, you'll belong here."

As the words caught the wind, the area went quiet. Everyone heard that. There was a little murmur from the back, probably Duane or Ivan, but no one spoke up. For her own part, Vivian felt her face turn red. Fuck him. Fuck his words. She _earned_ the name Peck. No one gave her anything. She took the name and everything that came with it.

Elaine had warned her it would be like this.

Vivian took another deep breath. "Yes, sir."

It was not what she wanted to say. She wanted to lash out like Gail did. But here... here she had to be Holly's daughter. The woman who saw disaster, pain, and trauma, recognized it, and didn't let it consume her. This wasn't her pain. This was his. Vivian could see that much clearly. He was lashing out because she was the safe target.

So she let it go. She let him shout at her name, her skills, her failures, and kept her face as impassive as Elaine Peck would. She held back her temper like Holly Stewart would. She envisioned his death in myriad, painful ways, and pretended to say everything that Gail Peck would.

But she did not crack.

"Bryce," said Lt. Tran, her voice cracking like a whip and silencing the field. "That's enough."

Bryce snarled. "This is my training routine—"

"Bryce." Now Sue's voice was quieter. "This is my department."

Technically, no one else in the department wore the rank of lieutenant, save the water crews. There they had the nautical rates and ranks, as one might expect. On land, Sue Tran was the only police officer bearing the rank and insignia, and Vivian had never really been clear on why, save that it was tradition.

What Vivian was even less clear on was if Sue outranked Bryce. Was Inspector above or below Lieutenant? Captain came above, but there wasn't an ETF captain. It was all so very odd, and probably had to do with how ETF used to be part of the Fire Department.

Still. Sue and Bryce stared at each other in silence. Finally Bryce broke and stomped off. "This will affect my grading!"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Blowhard. Okay kids, you passed. We'll talk about the details later. Dismissed."

Thank god. Vivian exhaled, feeling the tension start to ease out of her. "Damn it," she muttered as they got into the women's locker room. "What happens if we fail and it's my fault?"

Sabrina and the other women eyed her. "First off, you slipped. You recovered. It's barely worth a warning," Sabrina said firmly.

"Second time." Vivian sat down on the bench, heavily. The third Bryant mentioned happened when someone else slipped first and collided with her. It didn't count.

"Fourth if we count your trials," said Mel, who was on the gun side of things, helpfully. "You messed up twice there."

Scowling, Sabrina pointed at Mel. "Shut up. Not helping. And second, you won't be the first. Jake fucked up and dropped his rifle four years ago."

"Oh and Bobby dropped a fucking live grenade!" That was someone in the showers.

"You didn't tie your boot on enough!"

The women went on to point out the number of people who had fucked up in trainings, and wasn't that the point of practice anyway? It was enough to make Vivian feel like life was going okay.

And Sue was waiting for her as she left the locker room. "Quick word, Peck," said Sue softly, gesturing for Vivian to follow her. "Bryant's an asshole, but he has it out for you. Nothing I can do to stop that. It's your name and that's it." Sue sighed. "But."

It really was too much to hope she wasn't going to get out of this without a serious scolding. "I know," Vivian replied. She tried to keep her voice from betraying her lack of self-confidence in the moment.

"I know you know. And I know Jules dropped a lot of stress on you, with making you point for Rover your first month out. And now Safary." Sue canted her head to the side. "I'm pulling you off Rover."

What!? Vivian gaped and felt panic and bile rise. "What! No! I— I slipped, not even a foot, and I—"

Sue cut her off. "Calm down, it's not for the rope." Before Vivian could ask, the senior officer went on. "It'll buy me time to sort out what to do with Bryce for one, but also your fucking genius with the bomb means we need _you_ working with Arson." Sue tapped her index finger on Vivian's sternum. Hard. "It's not punishment. Well. Except for the part where you have to work with Inspector Peck."

Her heart lightened a little. "But I'm ... I'm off the line." She would be back to second string. And, yes, technically that's where Vivian should be, she knew it.

"Yeah, and any time you're not working on Safary, your ass is on the ropes. I know you know how to climb. Practice that ascender lock until your hands bleed. Understand?"

Vivian nodded fervently. "I understand."

"Good. Go home. Tomorrow you're in your blues and working for Arson, kid."

She watched Sue leave.

On the one hand, she wasn't in trouble. On the other, there was no way being put on the bench was anything but a side-handed punishment. Vivian had screwed up on the ropes, twice, and she was ETF's greenest rookie, and she was a Peck. Sometimes she had to take the hits.

It didn't meant she liked it.

Dragging her feet into the apartment, Vivian dropped her bags by the hall and walked straight to the couch, toppling onto it face first.

"You look beat."

Vivian did not pick her head up from the couch. "Got yelled at."

"Poor baby." Jamie sat down on the backs of Vivian's thighs. "What happened?"

As she inhaled to explain, Vivian caught a whiff of something familiar. Smoke. "Did you pass your physical?"

Her girlfriend snorted. "Not for field work. So we both had a banner day."

"Feeling okay? Physically I mean."

Jamie rapped her knuckles on Vivian's head. "Hey. Dumb ass. What happened?"

Ugh. "I slipped on the rope."

The weight on her legs vanished. "You'll get better at it." Jamie slapped her butt. "Christian home yet?"

"No." Vivian sighed and rolled over. "Is that code for sex?"

"No. Code for adults who need to make dinner."

Adulthood sucked. "I'd rather have sex."

Jamie snorted a laugh. "And you called your mom horndogs."

"They are. You spent five days in the cottage with them, and they got it on a dozen times. Like when we went sailing."

"Uh, we had sex then too, smart ass."

"And when we left. And the storm. And the couch the afternoon before that. And when we went to town. And—"

"Woah! Okay, okay, your parents are fucking randy ..." Jamie made a face. "Seriously? Are they always screwing?"

Vivian smiled and sat up. "More or less." She sighed. "Okay. Dinner. We have chicken, a roast, and ... how hungry are you?" Getting up off the couch, Vivian scratched her head as she went to the kitchen.

Her girlfriend looked in the fridge. "Is that a time or a quantity question?"

"Time. Roast will be a couple hours. Chicken half that. I don't worry about amount." Leftovers had ceased to be an issue since Jamie moved in. Two cops and a firefighter ate a lot.

"Roast." Jamie nodded firmly and gestured. "Roast, and then sex. Because I want to celebrate going back to real work tomorrow."

Real work? "I thought you said you didn't pass the check!"

"I didn't. But Kelly needs a gopher. So I get to fast track some of that, which I've kind of always liked."

She couldn't help it. Vivian started to laugh.

* * *

It was always weird to hear her kid call her by her title.

"Inspector Peck! Hang on!"

"Okay, that's creepy." Nick muttered his agreement to the sentiment.

Gail rolled her eyes and raised a hand. "I should be used to it. Huh? What up, young Peck?"

Vivian grinned. "Does that mean I can call you old Peck?" When Gail glared, Vivian laughed. "Can I catch a ride with you? To the arson?"

"Oh! So Sue tagged you for it?"

"Yeah, she needs to keep me out of Bryce's hair." Vivian rolled her eyes. "He doesn't like Pecks."

The name Bryce was familiar. "Why do I know him..."

Nick snapped his fingers. "He tried to buy you a drink at the Penny when you were a uniform. Remember? And I got pissed off because we were dating. Kind of. Before—" The man she almost married cut himself off.

Oh right. "Before. Yeah. Forgot about that," admitted Gail. While she rarely forgot things, idiot men hitting on her from before Perik was certainly on the list. "Well. He'll get over it, or Sue will blow up his car on accident. Gonna wear a vest?"

Vivian shook her head. "I'm not on patrol. Unless you think the burnt out shell of a shit hole apartment is dangerous."

"Being shot's no fun."

"Hah," snarled Vivian. "Been there."

"Please, don't remind me. Come on, I'll drive." Gail waved at Nick and headed out to the car. "Feels funny to be seconded, doesn't it?"

"Weird as hell. I'm already not used to being in uniform." She tugged at her collar.

Gail laughed. "I feel that way every time they dress me up." They clambered into the car and Gail asked a follow up. "Seriously, though. Sue said you're good."

Her daughter made a face. "You make it look so easy, doing everything at once. And ... I can't."

"Yet," said Gail firmly. "You can do it, you just have to get used to it. Remember, you're a rookie here again. So while those smarts are kicking it, you've got to let your body catch up."

Vivian slumped in the seat. "I wish I'd known you as a rookie."

"Hm." Gail smiled. "I was a bitch. I was a brat. I was a child. And, trust me, kiddo, your Mom would have dumped me hard, if she'd even deign to date me, _and_ if I had a fucking clue I was into girls." She shook her head. "Rookie me was far less successful as a human than you are. You... you're more like Traci. She was always our grownup."

Quiet for a moment, Vivian nodded. "Of all your class to compare me to, I'll take it. Seems like the best choice."

Gail reached over and punched Vivian's upper arm. "Bitch. Who raised you, huh?"

"Wolves," said Vivian, grinning gamely just like Gail.

It was always a trip to see the moments when Vivian looked and acted like them. She stood in a doorway like Gail and Steve. She smiled shyly like Holly and broadly like Gail. She laughed like Holly. She laughed like Gail. She was so much, in so many ways a reflection of who and what they were. And even though Vivian hadn't known Gail or Holly when they were young and foolish and reckless, the adult their daughter had become showed signs of both of them.

"Aroo." Gail mock-howled in the car, making Vivian laugh. "Do you know what song and dance Kelly has in store for us?"

"No. Jamie had no idea either."

"Oh hey, is she back at work then?"

"Mostly. They've got her on paperwork and safe stuff for a while. She didn't pass her fit check yesterday."

"Bummer. That's got to be driving her nuts."

Vivian shrugged. "She was close. They just want her to be healed up right before asking her to haul a guy three times her size out of a building."

Well. That was expected.

What was not expected was the smiling face of the petite Jamie McGann, greeting them at the site.

Working with her daughter was one thing. Working with daughter and daughter's girlfriend was another.

"Shit. I should just call Holly and be done with it."

Kelly eyed Gail. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Gail rolled her eyes and gestured at the younger set. "Those two are dating, Kelly." He startled. "Seriously, you shits? You were gonna play it cool?"

With an impish grin worthy of ... well ... worthy of Gail, Vivian shrugged. "It was more fun this way. Should we call Sgt. Simmons as well?"

"No, he and Holly are busy on another case." Gail almost dismissed it entirely, but then took pity on her kid. "He's in Ottawa making an arrest on the Haan case."

It took a moment but Vivian gaped. "Holy fuck... wait. John's making the arrest?"

Gail nodded. "They're bringing the Sub back tonight. Interviews tomorrow. But. Looks like the first real lead."

Her daughter sighed, sadly. "I don't like it. He's going to be fucked up, and the wedding thing is next month." Vivian turned to Jamie, "I'll explain later."

"Appreciated," said the firefighter. "So... Peck en masse is not normal?"

"Not since the early 2000s, no." Gail tsked and looked at Kelly. "Okay. So why are we here?"

Kelly shook his head. "Fucking circus act... okay. This is the only ruined Safary lair we have. We went back over the storage unit and didn't find anything at all that looked like sabotage or traps there. I came back to study the arson here and it's patterns."

Leaning towards her kid, Gail muttered. "He likes putting on a show."

"Didn't you say Safary tags his shit?" Kelly went on blithely.

"She," corrected Gail and Vivian as one.

Gail smirked. "And yes."

Kelly sighed. "Safary tags _her_ shit. And we found this." He gestured and they all followed the direction to look at some pealing wallpaper. Safary Hunt.

"Well." Gail huffed. "You could've shown us a photo."

"The effect is bigger. Step back... three steps."

Gail and Vivian shared a doubtful look but stepped back. There were stains on the walls. There was graffiti. There was tagging. There was an A and a Y and a ... oh shit. Gail felt her eyes widen. "That was hidden?" She pointed at the hunt.

"Yeah," said Kelly.

"Jesus." Because there, in the shape of a gouge on the bannister and the broken light and a scribble was the word. Safary. Some of it you had to look at from a specific angle. "Viv, what was the thing you were telling me about 3D recognition software and penises on that LEGO game? Your term paper for frosh computer design?"

Her daughter took a moment. "Minecraft. LEGO said they'd given up because... Inspector, this is like twenty years ago!"

"The theory, please." Gail's reply was soft. She remembered the words, but had never ordered them together quite like this.

Vivian, doubtful, obliged. "The problem Minecraft had was people built penises out of everything. At first it was incredibly obvious, easy to spot. But as the detection algorithms got better, people got more inventive. They'd hide them where the software didn't look, make them visible from one angle. Multi-part penis art. LEGO claimed they weren't going to do a Minecraft competition product, but then the same day they explained how expensive penis-mitigation was, they announced LEGO Worlds. Which wasn't as fun as Minecraft, if you ask me."

Multi-part penis art. Gail smirked. "Tell me you see this?" She waved a hand at the room.

Silent, her technology loving child studied the room. "Oh. I do... and this." Digging into her pocket, Vivian pulled out her phone and tapped up pictures of the bomb. "She fucking signs her components the same damn way."

Gail and Kelly leaned over to look at Vivian's phone. Both swore. "How the hell do you build circuit boards like that!?" Kelly was astounded.

"It's not that hard." Vivian shrugged. "Microetching is harder, and you need a clean room, but this is just stacking pieces. Which Safary's good at, y'know."

"And hiding." Gail swore under her breath and looked away to collect her thoughts. Her eyes landed on the thus far silent member of the ground.

This had to be Jamie's first foray into the investigative side of things. Kelley could do a great deal worse than the girl. The woman. Jamie was smart, and while she'd not gone to a pretentious (prestigious) high school or graduated with a degree, she held her own against Holly at Trivial Pursuit. People like Jamie could see things.

Right then, Jamie was staring at the wall, curiously. When she noticed Gail looking at her, Jamie asked, "Does the tagging _always_ look like that?"

"More or less." Looking up at the young firefighter, Gail wondered what Jamie saw. Any time anyone got such a distant, thoughtful look, they saw 'something.'

The younger woman nodded. "I'm hunting Safari... if it was with an I, I'd say it was that anti-hunter meme."

Gail stared at Jamie. "The what now?"

"It's a meme. Hang on." Jamie pulled her phone out and fired up an app. "You .. uh. You know what a meme is?"

Rolling her eyes, Gail replied. "Unlike my Internet hating spawn, I am familiar with the phenomena of mocking the world through pictures."

"Right." Jamie glanced at Vivian and then held her phone out to Gail.

It was a photo of a scrawny, underfed child with bloody hands and raw spots all over his face. The text on the top said "Finkle's Pharmaceuticals Tests on Children." The bottom read "Safari Hunt!"

Blinking, Gail read it a few times. "Does this happen for ... This happens for companies who mistreat employees and lie and cheat and steal." She didn't ask. No no. Gail knew.

Jamie nodded. "Pretty much. There was a whole viral thing about a corrupt camp for at risk kids. Ended up on the news and the Territory took over."

"Oh hey, I remember that," said Kelly. "Camp Wanamaker. They were seriously skimming funds and starving the kids."

But no bomb. "Jamie... Officer McGann." The change in name caused Jamie to startle. "Do you remember any of the memes? Specifics?" Gail pitched her voice as calm and casual as she could. This was just another, normal, day. Right?

When Jamie balked, Vivian spoke up. "Circuses. Zoos. Human trafficking."

A lightbulb went off in Jamie's eyes. "Oh hey, the zoo! There was a whole month where it was, just like, _all_ about the zoo! This was ... god, two years ago?"

Gail and Vivian shared a look. "Familiar, huh, kid?"

"Safary's got a signature style," agreed Vivian. "But how the hell are you gonna track that?"

Grinning ear to ear, Gail pulled out her phone. "Remember the rental scams I told you about?" As Vivian nodded, Gail dialed her office. "We already have a bunch of IP addresses and data patterns. All I have to do is match 'em up and we, my friends, are sitting clover."

In reality it wasn't going to be that easy, but now they had a serious lead.

* * *

"He wants to see me?" Holly frowned.

"He wants to see the genius who figured this out, which ... Well. That's you." John shrugged. "I don't ... If you were Gail, you'd go flaunt your superiority at him."

Holly smiled a little and glanced over at Marcel, who was kindly pretending not to listen. "That's Gail. I'm... I don't do interrogations."

Waving his hand, John clearly nixed that. "It's not that. He wants to see who bested his family."

Both of Holly's eyebrows shot up. "Family? Then it really is a ..."

"Not that kind of family. Like me and Gail and Dov."

Oh. The brotherhood of police. Alright. "Is he giving us anything?"

John nodded. "He told us his successors. Plural. But he killed one. You were right about that guy, Talbot. Apparently they have very high standards and limits. He's hesitating over the full history."

And just like that, Holly understood. "You think I'll convince him to talk by explaining how I reverse engineered his bones?"

Both men nodded.

Fuck.

"I see." Holly frowned and looked down. She knew Gail would do it. But she wasn't Gail. "Will one of you be there?"

"And an armed uniform. And he'll be chained to the table."

Holly shook her head. "No. No armed uniform. Just... just you and me, John." Maybe she'd lived too many years with Gail, but she knew in her heart that too many people would make Siegel not talk. He wanted to know who beat him, not be humiliated.

The detective nodded. "Okay. Are ... are you sure? You don't have to do this, Holly. We can make it work without you."

She sighed. "But you think it'll work better with me."

"Well. Yes."

Nodding, Holly waved a hand. "It's been over a hundred years, John. If catching this ... If catching this band of brothers means I help in interrogation, I'll do it. When?"

Marcel exhaled. It sounded like he'd been holding his breath a long time. "Today. If you could, please." While Marcel was always polite, this was the first time Holly had noticed him ever speaking solely English. He was serious.

"Fine. This afternoon?"

"Three. We have to bring him over from lockup."

Holly nodded again. "Three. Okay. Good. That means..." she looked at her desk. That gave her the time to finish up her work and distribute everything she couldn't work on today. She would need to shuffle a lot of things off her plate. No doubt her emotional state after would be shit.

The door to her office opened. "Excuse me, Doctor. You have an autopsy overview in an hour. And a meeting with the review board."

Holly stared at Ruth for a moment. "Right. I do. Ruth. Can you clear my schedule after the autopsy? There's... There's been an arrest in the Haan case."

Eyes wide, Ruth nodded. "I ... my god. Yes, of course." The secretary looked at John. "Sgt. Simmons, how about you give me the run down." She ushered John and Marcel out, leaving Holly alone in her office.

God. Ruth did understand what she needed, on a professional basis. Holly pushed her hair back and tried to process how she felt about the whole thing. The case was one she was passionate about, but Holly had never sat in an interrogation. The closest she'd come to that was watching her wife, and Gail had learned the techniques at her parents' knees... oh.

Picking up her phone, Holly called her mother in law.

"Hello, dear. Is everything alright?"

"Teach me how to handle interrogation. I have an hour until an autopsy."

Elaine was quiet for a while. "Well. That's a challenge. How long will the autopsy take and when's interrogation?"

"I'm overviewing one of my newer employees. Maybe two hours. And three PM."

"Hmm." Elaine sounded like Gail did when thinking deeply. Or Gail sounded like Elaine. Same thing, really. "That gives us not much time. Whom are you interrogating and why?"

Holly hesitated. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone, especially not a non-officer. But Elaine... Gail still talked to her about things. "An arrest was made in the Haan case," she said simply. Either Elaine would know everything in that moment, or she would know nothing. And regardless, Holly hadn't leaked.

"Oh." The faint humor in Elaine's voice vanished. "Also the Mills case?"

How did she know? Now was not the time to wonder. "Yes," said Holly, simply.

"I see. Call me back when you're out of autopsy, I'll have a plan for you." And that was all efficiency Herr Peck. But this time, for the first time, Holly felt like the weapon that was Elaine Peck was entirely, 100% on her side.

This had been the right call.

Holly still felt that way, five hours later, when she walked into interrogation. Her wife nodded at her, looking serious and supportive, and held the door open, but Gail said nothing at all. That felt right. What could Gail say? Words of support and encouragement? No. Gail was right. She trusted Holly and that made Holly feel better about the whole thing.

With her head held high, Holly walked into the room with John.

Ronald Siegel was short. Even cuffed to the table, he was short. He wore prison orange, his hair was cropped short, his face covered in patchy stubble, but he already had a semi-defeated, sallow expression. He was medium build, not fat but not thin... he looked normal. Wasn't that how they all looked? Normal.

Had Perik looked like that?

Bad analogy/thought train.

Still. This man, this creature, killed many people. Callously and coldly, he murdered people. There was no reason or motive she was aware of, not that it was her job to know. Her job isolated her from beings like this. She never looked into the face of evil, and yet here and now, she looked at the man who was the heir of pain to the one who killed her friend's fiancé.

The criminal looked up at her and stared.

"You're kidding. This is the genius?"

Holly snorted. "This is the killer?" She pointed at Ronald and sat down. That was Elaine's first rule. Act better than them. Especially since Ronald had evaded the law for so long. She had to be superior. So Holly put her best Gail Peck sneer on.

It seemed to work. Ronald's head jerked back. "Jesus. Dog and pony show."

"Says the man caught by it." Holly smiled.

Ronald blinked. "How did you catch me?"

Second rule, tell them the truth. Just not all of it. "The bones."

He stared. "The... bones. But we..."

"You stashed them with other bodies? You swapped them when they broke? You traded up? Yeah. Funny thing." Holly smiled and went to Rule Three. Tell a story. She leaned forward and told him about Bethany Mills. How he'd tried to kill someone else, how Bethany had stumbled upon them and saved the man but died for it. "But there's something you didn't know," she noted. "You didn't know about one of them having a degenerative bone disease."

A hit. Ronald stared at Holly. "Disease?"

"That's why her bone broke when you tried to remove it." Holly leaned back. Rule Four. Give them a bone. As it were. "What impressed me was that you were so fast and, generally, good at removing the bones. That's fine work, even for a butcher who's trained it can take hours." She shook her head. "Well. Some of you are better than others, I supposed. Mr. Haan was better at larger animals than ... Well, than you, for example."

Ronald looked ill. "Herman and his damn horses," he muttered. "How did you find him?"

"A lime green 'Cuda. Threw me off. Wasn't _your_ pattern. No, that was someone else's. A man, taller than you." Holly held Rule Five to her heart (break him back down — emasculate him) and flicked a glance at Ronald's arms. "Stronger than you."

That scored a hit and Ronald bristled. "I was strong."

"You like scooters though." Rule Six, throw a lie out there. Or an intentional wrong.

Silent, Ronald stared at her. "It was a Miata."

Holly grinned. "It was." Now to move on. "You thought you were clever. Different men and women, no real target of people, just the situation. Different weapons. But that was how you were stupid. Your anti-pattern showed itself." She turned and looked at John and enacted Rule Seven. Bored now. "Am I done?"

John shrugged. He seemed to be either used to these Peck rules or he was good at rolling with the punches. "We have enough to know who to go after next. A nice deep dive into Mr. Siegel's life and we have our next steps." John listed a couple names, not ones Holly recognized, but that wasn't weird.

"Alright then." She stood up. Rule Eight was leave early. Or pretend to. Still, she was was startled when Ronald blurted a question.

"How... I know how you figured out the bones, but. But how did you figure out which bones?"

Rule Nine. Demonstrate the unwavering reality of genius. "Do you like baseball? I do. Drives my family nuts, but what can you do?" Holly shrugged in the face of Ronald's confusion. "Baseball players have these rituals, habits, to do the same thing every time in order to recreate their optimal scenario. They tap the bat to the base, they take practice swings, they count with their fingers. Habits. Same as you." Ronald opened his mouth, but Holly went on. "It was the skull impressions. It really wasn't that hard. Once we had some samples of injuries, we were able to generate the shape of the weapon. Because you hit people the same way, nearly every time. And once we had that, I recreated the bones." She smiled and walked to the door, knocking on it. Time to do it, to walk away for real. "Goodbye, Ronald."

A surprised door guard (Goff, the one Gail didn't like) watched her leave and Holly went directly to the viewing room. Her wife was standing there, two mugs of something on the table.

"Hey," said Holly.

"Hey," said Gail quietly.

"Hey." Holly smiled, feeling her bravado falter at last. And that was Rule Ten. It was okay to fall apart later. This was later, right?

Gail seemed to think so, stepping up and wrapping her arms around Holly. God those hugs felt safe. Holly breathed deeply, inhaling the strength of her wife. "You said that already," said Gail, softer and quieter.

"Sounded familiar." They both smothered a laugh. "How do you do that all the time?"

"Practice." Gail rubbed Holly's upper back. "You did real good, Holly."

"I don't want to do that ever again." Holly shuddered, a full body shake, and Gail squeezed her close. "He ... he oozed evil."

"Hmm. They do that." Letting go, Gail held Holly at arms length. "You talked to Elaine, huh?"

That surprised Holly. "You didn't know? I thought..." She stopped. What did she think.

"I didn't know." Gail squeezed her shoulders. "Have some tea, okay?"

Tea sounded great. Holly picked up the mug, a MOM mug that Gail kept in her office, just for Holly's visits, and inhaled. Strong and sweet. Holly sipped it and was relieved to find it not super hot. "What's he doing now?"

"Nothing. He's staring at John."

Holly frowned and looked in. John was silent and still. Ronald was fidgeting. "He looks ... He looks scared."

"He is." Gail sipped her own tea and then eyed Holly. "You hit him hard, y'know."

"I did?" Holly frowned more. "I don't feel like I did."

"Yeah, you never do at the time." Gail shrugged. "Ah, here we go. Watch, he'll start talking in a minute."

And to Holly's surprise, he did.

"If I tell you... if I tell you, what happens to me?"

Slowly, John tilted his head. They could only see the back of the sergeant's head, no bald spots and only a few white hairs. "Depends on what you tell us."

"I'm still going to jail, huh?"

"We have evidence you killed four men, including Heinrich Haan, Ronald. That last one _might_ get you time lessened, but it's murder."

Ronald looked at his own hands. "We all kill."

The way he said it made Holly stiffen. Gail gently patted her shoulder. "It's okay," said Gail quietly.

"And you all die. Except you, Ronald." John leaned back. "You hid your name, layers and layers of false identities. Moved a hundred times. You were trying to ... to what? Get away?"

And Ronald nodded. "When you slip up, you die. That's ... That's why I killed Heinrich. He let that guy go. Took the wrong one. Broke her leg too..."

To his credit, and to Holly's awe, John didn't react to that. To the fact that the woman John had loved was the 'wrong' one. All John did was ask a simple question. "And you?"

Ronald looked at the glass. It gave Holly a start. She knew he couldn't see her, but still. "She watching?"

"Huh? The Doc?" John glanced at the glass, sparing a wink to the room. "Nah. She has other cases to work on. I'll probably get an earful about wasting her time and the lab's money."

"She's important...?"

"Yes." John tilted his head, his shoulders saying 'curious' while his relaxed posture saying 'bored.' "Doc there is the smartest medical examiner we've had in a hundred years. She's written papers of international renown. Even if you give me nothing, she's given me everything. I'll have your cronies in jail, from Newfoundland to the Yukon. Including the one who skipped out to Mexico. He's on a plane already."

Holly blinked. "Mexico?"

Gail nodded. "Yeah, Marcel's minions tracked him down. The one who used the half sized bone?"

Holly oooohed. The weapon she recognized. "Wow. But the DNA was a wash!"

"Hilariously, once they suspected Mexico, they checked the border crossings and found a guy who got bit by a dog in Texas. He hopped the border to avoid paying an ER bill."

"Well." Holly smiled. "Hospital bills in the States were pretty bad in the 2020s."

"No kidding." Gail grinned. "It looks like we're on to the answers of who, if not why."

Exhaling loudly, Holly shook her head. "I wish I could say I don't care about the why, but I really do. I don't know if I'll ever get over not knowing why a group of people did this for so long."

Her wife was quiet for a while. "I think it's why people climb mountains. Or dance. Or do anything risky. There's a rush. A flash of power, of awe that you did something daring and chancy. The first time I tackled a perp. It's overwhelming. And they were paying me to do this stuff." Gail inhaled. "These guys, these assholes, they got away with murder. They killed and killed and hid it well, leaving clues and still getting away with it and... it's a high. So they keep doing it."

"Escalation."

"Reward and repeat. They level up, like in video games, y'know?" With a shrug, Gail finished her tea. "Ah... John's got him now. Look at his face."

Holly had lost the thread of the interrogation. How had Gail kept following it? Well, it was Gail's job. Holly could follow science. She turned to the window and watched John get up. Was he leaving?

"Wait!" Ronald jerked against the cuffs holding him to the table. "Wait. Please!"

"Why?" John paused at the door. "What could you possible tell me that I don't already know?"

Ronald looked at the window. A mirror on his end. But everyone knew that it was a one way mirror. "Heinrich... he wasn't the first. I mean, he was the one who organized us. But he learned in the old country."

Holly's stomach hit the floor. Old country. This was even deeper?

"Austria? We know. His father was hung for killing a man."

"With a bone." Ronald swallowed. "That's where. We knew. We all know, you cover it up. You use the world, what the world does, to hide what you do."

Abruptly, Gail swore. "Fuck, the wars!" Gail pounded a fist on the table. "Damn, that's it. Wars and influenza! Holly, that's where those assholes hid." Before Holly could agree, Gail ranted on. "Son of a bitch. They picked cars not because they like them, but because they're common!"

Holly stared for a moment. "Common?"

"Yeah! Think about it. People dead by cars isn't a shock. Car accidents. Didn't you say there were a handful of people dead by car accidents that didn't make sense?"

"Yes," confirmed Holly. "That was the 1970s runs."

"Before seat belt laws." Gail grimaced. "Fuck. John'll have to pull up stats on the most common deaths... I bet these will all slip in." Running her hands through her hair, Gail sighed explosively. "What a fucking nightmare."

And none of it would involve Holly. "Poor John," she muttered under her breath. "He'll love it."

There was a short pause and Gail coughed a laugh. She had to know Holly was right. John would love digging into history and stories and mysteries of the oldest, coldest case ever to land in OC.

* * *

As Jamie unlocked the door to the apartment, she was still gushing. "That was incredible! You should totally compete and do the show!"

"Not gonna happen," said Vivian for the tenth or million and tenth time.

For part of rehab therapy, Jamie was at the gym. Since the owner of Ninjymnastics was a certified physical therapist, getting Jamie in was easy. It just meant Jamie saw Vivian run the entire first stage course at the gym. From the stepping stones to the log roll to the curtain swing, even the jumping spider, Vivian ran through the (smaller) version of the real course with mostly ease. She had a little trouble on the new uneven rolling balls and face planted on the mat, but she did make it across.

Then, since she'd had time, she practiced her upper arm strength on bungee road and the obscene cliffhanger. Which was when Jamie showed up to watch. The few times Jamie had come to the gym before, Vivian stayed with her on the beginner moves, showing her how to do the balance and parkour-esque obstacles, versus the strength ones.

Not that Jamie wasn't incredibly strong. The focused, flexible power needed for the Ninja Warrior stuff was wildly different than the kind needed for firefighting. Stability and brute force was the name of the firefighting game. They'd done a little rock climbing to work on grip strength, but not the sort of thing Vivian did regularly.

"Spoilsport. You could be Canada's first American Ninja Warrior."

"First off," said Vivian, patiently, "I'd be the fourth. And the second Canadian woman. Second. No. I'm not going on TV."

"At least I know why your fingers are so damn tough," teased Jamie and she walked inside. "Oh. Viv... there is a strange and yet familiar child on our couch."

Looking over Jamie's head, Vivian smiled. "Chris!"

Chris Epstein, just eighteen, was perched on the edge of the couch. As soon as Vivian and Jamie walked in, Chris popped to their feet. "Christian let me in. He said... um. It was okay?"

"Always okay, Chris," said Vivian. "We are super smelly though."

"Not like you hug," said Chris with a faint, thin smile. Then Chris looked at Jamie. "Hi, you must be Jamie?"

Rolling her eyes, Jamie stepped in and gave Chris a hug, much to their surprise. "Viv told me you came out to your folks, you get hugs. Nice to meet you."

Chris flushed and returned the hug. They were not very tall, though that made sense. While Dov was a bit taller than Gail, Chloe was a tiny thing. As a baby, Chris had been tiny which had astounded Vivian. Were babies always that tiny? Holly had assured her that they were, and a few months later when Jerry was born, Vivian determined her mother was correct. Everyone started out that small.

After Vivian went to university, she'd not spent as much time with Chris. Well. Babysitting and driving around wasn't really spending time. They were seven years apart, more or less, and Chris was always a little kid in Vivian's mind.

But. They were, all of them, the family of Fifteen. That was just how it worked. Maybe, in some alternate universe, Andy and Gail would have grown up as casual friends. Okay not friends, but Vivian got the impression Gail hadn't even known about Andy until they were teens, and even then avoided her. Which really made sense. Tommy McNally was a bit of a class A fuckup.

She and Chris, though, Vivian and Chris had less of an age gap than Vivian did with Sophie. They had much the same relationship. Friendly enough, but not hang out friends. The fact that Vivian and Olivia had been as close as they were had much more to do with the fact that they went to the same schools from first grade on through high school than anything else. That was proven by how Vivian was still close to Matty, even after some years apart, but her relationship with Olivia was still awkward.

That and the sex. That really fucked up friendships, Vivian had to admit. Except in the case of Gail, who often enough ran into her exes and treated them exactly the same. Gail was unique.

"I like her hugs," Chris said as Jamie let go. "She has good hugs."

"She does," Vivian said, agreeing. "How long were you waiting for me, numbskull?" She reached over and ruffled Chris's hair.

"About an hour. Is that okay?" Chris was so earnest.

And something was up. For the kid to show up, seek her out, was weird. "I told you, yeah." When Chris didn't rise for the bait, though, Vivian had to push a direction. "I need some protein and carbs, Chris," Vivian announced. "You want to get fed?"

Chris nodded quickly. "I kinda told Mom I was eating with you already?" They looked sheepish.

"So long as I'm not covering for you going on a date with someone your folks hate." Vivian grinned. "Grab a stool."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh so I'm your assistant?"

"Chris is a guest, you live here now." Vivian shoved Jamie's shoulder. "See what I put up with?"

Chris smiled shyly. "She deserves it, Jamie. Don't let her fool you. She took out a car with a homemade rocket."

Vivian pointed at Chris. "You weren't even there, you ass!"

"I saw the video!" Chris laughed broadly, looking and sounding like their mom.

"You're a shit." Vivian handed vegetables to Jamie. "And don't tell me you're a vegetarian, because I'm making pork stir fry."

"No." Smiling, Chris shook their head. "Do you guys have soda and can I have some?"

With the tone of one raised by Holly, Vivian corrected. "We do and you may. Fridge. Help yourself."

As Chris studied the drink options, Jamie leaned in and spoke softly. "What's going on?"

Vivian shrugged. "Dunno. Little Chris, what's the deal? Not that I mind you hanging out, but the last time you needed ol' Viv's advice, it was to flip on your friends for illegal drugs."

Jamie blinked. "What?"

"Chris got caught holding weed, which is barely illegal, but since the kids were all underage..." Vivian waved a hand. "I promised Dov it wasn't anything to worry about."

"Dov ... the ..." Jamie jiggled her head. "You can't just ask people that stuff, Vivian!"

But Chris laughed. "She does. She's really bad at people and hates trying to guess. That's why she's cool."

Vivian blinked. "I'm cool?" No one said that about her. Gail was cool. Vivian was weird and off beat.

"Yeah, for a grown up."

She rolled her eyes. "You're graduating high school soon. Time to grow up, yourself."

"Uh..." Chris stoped joking and looked down. "That's what I wanted to ask about," they mumbled.

"Change your mind about being a copper?" Vivian had heard, from Gail as well as Chloe, about the idea. And the non-binary. Which she'd already known from Chris years prior, and promised then to not tell anyone until Chris did.

But Chris not talking to Vivian about being a cop made sense. Those things were harder. It was so much easier to be who you were, and not the thing that was mutable. It was more common for people to have a hundred jobs in a lifetime. Hell, Leo had worked for seventeen companies already, sticking with none more than a year. On the other hand, Vivian and Chris came from a stock of people who found a calling and stuck with it for as long as possible. Even Jerry Shaw had fallen into that hole.

"No," said Chris. Their voice was firm and nervous at the same time. "Just... what's it like?"

Huh? Vivian looked across the counter at the young person. Being a cop was something Chris' parents could explain. But... What the hell did Vivian know that Dov and Chloe didn't? That any other officer didn't? She glanced at Jamie and the puzzle piece dropped into place.

Vivian was out. And more to the point, she had been out since she was a teenager, younger than Chris. By comparison, Chloe wasn't really out. Some people knew she was bi, but not everyone. And Gail was a law unto herself and didn't count no matter anyone looked at it. Holly wasn't a cop, and after that, her family, her cop family had a surprising dearth of queer police.

That wasn't actually true. Not fully. Most coppers of her grandparents' generation kept it to themselves. In Gail's, really only Gail and Frankie and Jen were here and queer. It was still something a little quieter. And then, for Vivian's generation, it was a non-event, for the most part. The problem was never going to be Chris' peers, it would always be the teachers and mentors and the old guard.

Vivian sighed. "It's not easy," she said to start with. "My classmate, Jenny? She's bi, and I think people give her less shit, but ... I'm a Peck. And that comes with a whole boat of headaches."

Chris nodded. "But... I meant it's not _nothing_ , is it?"

"No, it's not." She paused, looking for the words. "Hey, McGann, what's it like being a gay firefighter?"

"As a woman? Stereotypical. For men... they still get a lot of shit." Jamie frowned. "I don't actually know any non-binary, but we do have a couple transgender out there."

"You also have one shower room," noted Vivian.

"And one sleeping room. For the grunts." Jamie shrugged. "The paramedics have a room, the caps have private rooms. You get used to sharing, though."

Chris' eyes were wide. "What about ... uh ... y'know. Guys?" Chris paused. "I mean, you hear about them, um, being uh..."

"Abusive," offered Jamie.

"You mean assault?" Vivian canted her head.

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Beating people up and ... that."

Vivian and Jamie shared a look. "It happens," said Vivian, simply. "Still. I'm not gonna lie, Chris. Some people are assholes, even cops. Especially cops." She eyed her girlfriend and popped an eyebrow.

"Same. Probably worse because we all sleep in one big room." The firefighter frowned. "It used to be a lot worse. But more women made it up the ranks. My captain's a woman, and a lesbian, but there are two more female fire chiefs in the city now, and they don't stand for shit. I've only been on three years, but so far the worst was a guy who offered to mentor me when I was new, and sent me dick pics and tried to get me to go out with him."

The story was new to Vivian. She smirked. "I'm afraid to ask what you did..."

"Printed the photos and the texts and put them up in the bathrooms." With a shrug, Jamie winked. "Cappy yelled at me about it and he got fired."

"See, that's stupid," said Vivian. "He could have retaliated. Crazy white guys are unpredictable when you turn 'em down."

"How did you know he was white," wondered Chris.

Vivian was dismissive. "They're always white. The most dangerous person out there is a cisgender heterosexual white male who thinks he's losing his privileges. Bonus points for being a Christian."

Jamie nodded, sagely. "Oh, you're right. I wouldn't do it now. But I was the only girl in my rookie class. I didn't really know what else to do. Some of the other women tell you things like, get used to it. Or it happens to everyone."

"Which it does." Vivian grumbled and tossed the food into a pan. "Some assholes in high school nearly killed Matty, beating him up. It's just... it's no different if you're in high school or college or on the force. Happens in offices."

Chris looked dejected. "So everywhere sucks?"

Both Vivian and Jamie nodded. "More or less, yeah," said Vivian. "But it gets better. Or easier. Or we get better... stronger. And we're not alone."

The kid sighed deeply and sucked down some more soda. "Will you... will you tell me what it's really like?" Chris looked hopefully at Vivian and then Jamie. "Both of you? Because ... All Dad says is it'll be hard, but he'll support me. And Mom... she got all weird."

"Is Chloe ever not weird?" Jamie smiled, trying to make a joke.

It worked. Chris grinned, shakily, but they grinned. "Oh good, you met her."

"She hugged me," said Jamie, and she scowled. "She hugs. She's very ..."

" _Sound of Music_ ," offered Vivian and Chris as one.

Vivian smiled. "I think Chloe's upset you don't confide in her, and she thinks it's her fault for being gone with work so much."

Chris looked stunned. "What? God! No, why are parents so dumb!?"

Vivian held back a laugh. "They're generally not prepared for the day we start acting like people. Especially when we don't act exactly how they do."

But they did talk to Chris, through dinner and into the night, about what it was really like. To be open about being queer, to have a job people didn't understand, and how to deal with how it felt to be different like that. In the end, Chris slept on the couch, with Vivian promising Chloe she'd drop them off in the morning.

All of that felt like it took longer than letting Chris work through all the drama.

"You're good at that, you know," said Jamie as Vivian finally hung up. "Chris and his mom."

"Really?" She eyed her girlfriend, already showered and in her pajamas.

"Yeah. I think you'd be a good parent."

Vivian snorted. "That better not be a prelude to a baby conversation. Because I have it on pretty good authority two women can't knock each other up."

Jamie laughed. She'd heard the story from Holly, about how young Vivian had gotten confused. "You handled this way better than Holly did sex, I think."

"Low bar." No doubt Gail would say Holly did sex just fine. Vivian threw her gear into the hamper. "Were you scared? Being a tiny tiny thing and a firefighter?"

"You mean because of the stories of how women get assaulted? Sure. Of course I was. I'm not stupid." The firefighter sighed. "But. I wanted this. I ... I don't know how to explain it. I needed to do this, to be ..." She paused. "Gail said it was to be a part of something bigger than yourself."

"Hah, she got that from Elaine, but yeah. I hear you." Vivian sighed and went to shower. When she came back, Jamie was still sitting up in bed, hugging her knees. "Okay, what cue did I miss?"

Jamie smiled softly. " _Do_ you want kids?"

Oh. It _was_ a prelude to the baby conversation. "I don't know." She sat down on the bed. "Hadn't really thought about it."

"Me neither." Jamie tilted her head. "Chris is making me think about how hard it has to be, to know your kid is gonna suffer."

"You sound like Holly."

"Yeah? I bet Gail wasn't surprised at all."

"Of course not. You've met her." They settled under the covers and turned off the lights. As she adjusted her pillow and kicked a leg out, Vivian ventured a thought. "If... _if_ I have kids, I'd want to adopt."

Jamie didn't reply for a minute. "I'm okay with that." Then she snickered a laugh. "Wow that was low key."

In the dark, Vivian smiled. "Kinda was. I've never even had that conversation before."

"I have," said Jamie, darkly. "My high school boyfriend wanted three kids."

That was still weird. Technically Vivian knew Jamie identified as bisexual, but she'd rarely ever heard her talk about boyfriends. Even though she'd met one of the ex-boyfriends, Vivian didn't know much about them as a whole. "So." She slowly processed that sentence and its implications. Vivian could be super serious or she could play it Gail. It was late. She had to be Gail. "Two kids?"

Jamie giggled. "Oh we're negotiating?"

"Just not around Holly. She gets this weird Grandmother Vibe rocking." Vivian waved her hands. "I swear, she'll get all crazy eyes."

Stifling a laugh, Jamie rolled to her side and kissed Vivian's cheek. "I like your family. They're really close."

"Well they've been married forever."

"I mean all of them. Oliver, Dov, everyone. There's this huge family of cops and their families." The woman yawned and snuggled down into the bed. "Your moms surrounded you with all these awesome people who care, and you just pay it forward. You're good people, Peck."

"Not something I hear too often."

With another, bigger, more meaningful yawn, Jamie's weight shifted into one of sleep. "I'll remind you more often." And her breathing evened out, her body relaxed, and Jamie fell asleep.

Oh, how Vivian envied that ability to sleep right away. More so, she envied the simplicity with which Jamie often saw the world. And maybe, maybe she envied the directness Jamie had. That she, that Vivian, was a good person.

Maybe she was after all.

Vivian smiled at the world for a moment and then settled into bed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Young Chris is fine, they just needed to talk to someone closer to their age and situation. A non parent.


	34. 03.13 - Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have Safary in their sights, at last, but can they trap her before she turns her back on her apparent vow of non-fatal bombs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you know. Season finale. Bombs. It's time.

Vivian stared at the bomb.

She'd seen hundreds of them. But this was the first time she'd really been scared by a bomb.

"Is it good to go, Peck?"

"Yes, ma'am, Lt. Tran." Vivian looked up at her commanding officer. That still felt weird, not reporting to Andy all the time, or even Inspector Seabourne. No. Her chain of command ended with Sue Tran.

A comforting, massive, hand landed on her shoulder. Sgt. Smith. "You got this, Peck." And he jerked his chin.

She nodded and stood up. "Bomb is hot. Repeat, bomb is hot." Vivian swallowed a cotton dry mouth and stepped back, slowly, with her sergeant. Jules. Not Andy.

ETF was the one place where there was no other Peck. There had not been a Peck in ETF since the 1990s. It was much like Major Crimes, where Gail had staked her claim and made her name. Vivian knew she was in a safer place for herself due to her taken matronymic. Heh. Holly always laughed when Vivian called it that, but the term patronymic was inappropriate and inaccurate.

But that meant everything Vivian did not only weighed on her possible future, and yes her goals, but on those of everyone who shared her four letter name. Sometimes it made her wonder what delusion she'd been under when she sought the name Peck. Wouldn't Stewart have been better? In the end, however, no. The sword and spear that was her own name was what she needed.

And this, this work in EDU, with electronics and bombs and running up buildings with a remote control in her hand... it was fun. Vivian really enjoyed it. It was also incredibly physical and draining, and even the best ETF heroes lasted only five or ten years in the hard core physical work.

Take Sue, for example. She'd worked in the field for eight years. Then she'd stepped back and taken a round in management and now she was in charge of them all. There were days Sue still kitted up and went out with them, to defuse a complex bomb or a situation. For the most part, she didn't. Like Gail, Sue sat back and directed others.

Others like Vivian.

"Range is hot," called out Wayne, sitting safely behind the plexiglass. Once she too was behind the bomb wall, Vivian pulled off her helmet. "Peck, honors are yours."

She swallowed and nodded again. "Right." Vivian picked up the detonator. "Clear the range," she said, loudly and firmly.

"Range clear," replied the range master. "You are go."

"Range clear. Safety off." Vivian paused, hearing that repeated and recognized down the range. Ear protection went on.

She counted down from five.

She pressed the trigger.

She waited. Held a breath. Prayed to a god she'd never actually believed in. Prayed to a name she carried like a shield. Waited an eternity, a lifetime, an ice age. Waited less than a second. Waited and held her breath and her voice and her hopes.

The explosion was sound, fury, rage, and light.

It wasn't overly loud. It wasn't supposed to be. It was destructive without destroying everything. It was mostly noise and sight, sending sparks and reflective pops into the air. Balls rolled out and exploded, secondary bursts of special effects that hurt very little.

Oh it was a bomb, to be sure. It could kill. But it was also controlled and limited in scope. It was exactly how it was supposed to be.

It was perfect.

The silence settled and Vivian eased her ear protection off. She glanced at Jules and then Sue. They were impassive. "Cue up the video," said Sue, quietly.

The range master nodded at Wayne. "Can you side by side them?"

"What do you think?" A moment later there were two videos. The grainy surveillance video of the original bomb was beside one of he bomb Vivian had built and they'd blown up. After fiddling with things, Wayne changed the view so her bomb matched the original.

They watched as, frame by frame, Wayne stepped through the video.

Obviously it wasn't going to be a 100% perfect match. That was impossible. But, as they went through it, it was damn close.

Wayne huffed. "We have the train ..." He looked up at Sue. "I'll have Archie run that at the AV lab. But."

Sue nodded. "That, officers and scientists, is a plausible hit." She nodded once, still cool and poker faced. "We have a confirmed design for a Safary bomb." And Sue's face split into a shit eating grin. "Good job, Peck."

It was the sweetest compliment ever.

* * *

Skimming the report, Holly smiled. Gail watched her wife's lips turn up slowly into a beautiful, quirky smile. Holly had a million different smiles. While Gail was fond of the ones she saw in private, the half smile where Holly looked like she was grinning or laughing, and just happy. A smile Gail had, at first, assumed was her normal smile, until months later it occurred to her that only she, the cop friend, got that particular look.

No. Holly had a lot of special smiles. The one when she watched Vivian sleep was precious. The one when she lay in bed after an orgasm was soul healing. The one when Gail hit a curveball, finally, in a cops ball game Oliver wrangled her into, that one was delightful. The sweet, tender, soft smile she gave Gail sometimes, when she played with their rings... yeah Gail loved that one.

This particular smile was proud. It was gleeful and boastful and the smile of someone who wanted to sing from the rooftops.

"So. You didn't know?" Gail asked as she closed her laptop.

"No. Wayne doesn't have to clear everything with me." Holly's face stuck on her smile and she looked up at Gail, glasses slipping down her nose. "She recreated one of Safary's bomb models."

"Yeah. The post explosion evidence too. Check out the results."

Holly beamed and scrolled through the document. "Damn, that was clever."

"Sue is thrilled."

"Shit, I'm thrilled." Holly took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. She sniffed and sighed.

Gail smiled. "I keep telling you she's _our_ kid, you nerd."

Her wife nodded and took a Kleenex, blowing her nose. "I know. I know. I just... I feel sometimes like ..." Holly shook her head. "I don't see me reflected in her all the time."

"I know," said Gail, and she walked around her desk to hug Holly close for a moment. "I do. And so does she."

Holly sighed a deep sigh from her heart and leaned in. Gail loved those moments, when Holly seemed to draw strength from Gail just being there. Someone to lean on and carry her for a little bit. And Gail, Gail could do that. "I should probably forgive her for blowing out the wifi at home, huh?"

"Probably, yeah." Gail agreed and pressed her cheek to Holly's forehead. "Tell her you're proud of how smart she is."

"Did you?"

"I did." Actually Gail had sworn and laughed and punched Vivian in the arm since the ETF idiots had stomped into Fifteen, singing her praises. Then they'd all gone off to do something athletic and dangerous. Like rappel off buildings. "They're coming to dinner Thursday."

"Hmm. I'll bring treats from Bita."

"Oh, speaking of... Do they do wedding cakes?"

Holly stiffened a little and leaned back. "Did I miss a chapter? Do I need to freak out that my baby's getting married?"

Gail laughed. "God no! John. The cake guy fucked up."

Here it was October and the wedding was in December. The engagement party (mangni, and that was a fun word) had gone off without a hitch. The bride's family had been delighted that Gail spoke the language, letting her do the translations for people. Holly had sat with the bride's family, looking stunning, as always, and been in charge of carrying the dress back and forth.

Then there was the singing and dancing and laughing. It had been a wonderful night, ending with Gail and Holly sitting out with the stars and candles, watching kids run around. That was when some older ladies, older than Elaine certainly, came up and tied their hands together, calling them silly old married people, and made them dance some more.

If all parties were like that, Gail would have enjoyed them more.

"I can ask." Holly sighed, like a kitten or a baby, leaning in more.

The door opened without warning and Chloe popped in. "You're gonna love this, Gail— Oh. Uh... sorry."

"It's fine," said Holly, and she let go of Gail, sniffling again and fixing her glasses. "Where are they?"

"One Central. Doing assault practice." Gail smiled as Holly kissed her, just the corner of her mouth.

As Holly left, Chloe eyed Gail. "What was that all about?"

"Family stuff." Gail closed the door. "Whatcha got?"

"Fine, don't let me in on your secrets. I have a suspect." Chloe held out a file.

All these years, and Gail couldn't get most of her own peers to switch to all electronic. Well. Old habits died hard, as they said. "Which case of your drug addled idiots has given you a suspect?"

"Maisie."

Gail blinked and stared at Chloe. "Maisie Falls? As in _Sadie's_ Maisie?"

"The very one." Chloe looked positively impish. "Making amends is one of the steps you know."

"Steps... so NA is going okay?"

"As much as one might expect." Chloe tapped her paper. "Remember how she was the druggie at the antique store?"

"The one Safary blew up, sure."

"Maisie said she saw someone suspicious."

Gail read the paper quickly and flipped a page. "Sketch artist?"

"Last page."

It looked very much like Vivian's description. Wow. Gail exhaled. "Okay, unpack that one for me?"

"So Maisie was working at the antiquities store, illegally, and using it to push drugs. Cora was the assistant manager and an addict. They both skulked around a lot, hiding the drugs, which is how they met Safary. And Cora told Safary about the weird stuff that turned out to be human smuggling. When I asked about the Safari Hunt meme, Cora not only knew what I meant, she showed me her account on this weird site."

Gail flipped a page and sighed. "I have _got_ to get you to use your damn tablet, Chloe. And that's an image site, where people post weird shit they take photos of. Or make up."

Actually Gail liked that site, and had spent time on the couch reading it and sharing cute animal pictures, or crazy stupid human ones, with Holly.

"Either way, we found where Cora posted about the fact that the shipping guys were bribing her, which is where she got her drug money by the way. Which was how Safary sussed out that there was human smuggling going on."

"Cora knew about the smuggling?"

"She knew about the dummy."

Gail whistled. "Alrighty then. We got a lead. Got a name?"

"Cindy. Cindy Smith."

With a snort, Gail handed the files back. "That's an alias."

"Probably, but I'm running it down. I need you to authorize me getting the lab to run prints on everything we got from the antiques place, try to find Safary."

"Didn't we do that already?"

"Only the crates. Cora said Safary came to scope the place out."

"That... that is good." She nodded. "You send me the forms?"

Chloe nodded. "I did. Thought you'd want to hear it in person though."

Gail grinned widely. "Oh yes, yes. I do." Reaching over, she spun her laptop around and pulled up the form, quickly signing off on it. "Now. Wanna see my kid do something awesome?"

"Is _that_ why Holly was crying? You shouldn't make her cry."

Rolling her eyes, Gail played the video on her wall. "Chloe. My kid made a Safary bomb. She built it. So once you have your suspect locked in, we can use that information to find where she builds it."

The tiny cop's eyes went wide. "Oh I have got to see this! Do you have popcorn?"

* * *

"Please state your name for the record."

"Dr. Holly Stewart."

"Dr. Stewart, what is your current position?"

"I am currently the chief medical examiner for Toronto, and the chief forensic pathologist for Ontario."

The lawyer looked at her for a moment. "Those aren't the same things?"

"No." Holly smiled. "My position as chief medical examiner means I'm the head of forensics and pathology for the city, based out of Police Headquarters. The role of chief forensic pathologist falls under my work for Ontario Forensic Pathology Service."

"The OFPS is responsible for ensuring registered forensic pathologists perform autopsies?"

"As ordered by coroners. Yes."

"But people refer to you as the chief ME of Ontario."

Holly shrugged. "While inaccurate, the implied sentiment is often understood. They're not synonymous." It didn't really bother her any more than it bothered Gail to call her department Major Crimes or Major Cases. The point was roughly the same, and it was nothing to get hung up about.

"So you're in charge of ... all the pathologists in Ontario?"

"Responsible for, yes."

"Which is how you had access to the autopsy records for the Territory?"

Holly paused. "Yes. They fall under my purview."

"And you can examine them at any time?"

Hmm. Holly did not like the road this was headed down. However she nodded. "That is correct."

"Do you make a habit of secretly procuring documents your employees have filed?"

Oh. How nice. He was going to attack her. As Holly opened her mouth to respond, the Crowne's office spoke up. "Y'know, this isn't a trial, so could you stop interrogating the Doc?"

There was muffled laughter in the room.

"It's a hearing," said the lawyer, indignantly.

The judge sighed. "This is a preliminary hearing. Mr. Siegel already confessed. And pled guilty."

"And yet he is still my client. Are you prejudiced, your Worship?"

The judge narrowed his eyes. "Only against lawyers who harass one of the most brilliant scientists to grace my offices. Stop treating Dr. Stewart like a hostile witness. Your real question is, I believe, did Dr. Stewart abuse her position to acquire the documents leading to your client's arrest?"

The lawyer startled and shrunk a little. "Well. Yes."

Everyone turned to look at Holly. "And that would be a no. I called Dr. Grant before I pulled his files. We talked about the case and my suspicions. And I should point out, the job of head of Ontario forensic pathology is not being a boss about the other doctors. It's more like herding cats."

The Crowne's lawyer laughed. "How do you even get to do an autopsy a month?"

"I have a very understanding family and a lab that loves me."

Also, unbeknownst to them, Holly was planning to step down as the chief forensic pathologist for Ontario in the next year. She'd held the position for five years, longer than she'd wanted, and it did mean that when people called her the chief medical examiner in Ontario, they really were right but...

Holly was going to be sixty in eight short months.

Sixty.

And with the death of Lily, it felt even more important to her that she step back a little and spend more time with the people she loved, doing the job she loved. So at sixty, her present to herself was half retirement. She'd keep being the Toronto ME for at least a few more years, maybe five or ten, and then she'd step down entirely and concentrate on writing and gardening.

Even Gail had agreed. After the kids left the cottage, they'd talked about it and evaluated their choices. Retirement. Sleeping in. Doing what she wanted a little more. Gail had even talked about maybe not doing anything in SIU and just taking a break. While Holly suspected that wouldn't happen, she was encouraging of whatever future her wife sculpted for them.

Quite honestly, anything was better than this god damned constant arguing with lawyers.

But their mad killer had a bit of a plea bargain, and as much as Holly hated the very idea of giving him an inch, she did have to admit that there was going to have to be some give and take. After all, he did plead guilty to the murders.

Hours later, when she was free of legal hoopla, Holly dragged herself back to her office, asked Ruth to please keep her free for an hour, and threw herself onto the couch.

It really gave her a headache.

And it was so, so painful to have to work on giving someone a lighter sentence. He was incredibly guilty. He had killed people and been an accessory for more. Ronald Siegel's name was all over death and destruction for Ontario.

Grimacing, she picked up her phone to call the Ontario Chief Coroner, her peer, whom she had not really been keeping abreast of the situation. Not that she had to. Forensics were Holly's work. The coroner handled death in a mundane way, called in her groups for mysterious works, and they generally did a good job handling their worlds.

As professionals, they got along alright. They were very different people, though. Donaldson was a professor, a scholar, and a doctor. He cared about peace and comfort. Holly was a practical scientist. She wanted to get her hands into the dirt, her mind into the puzzle. Teaching by example and demonstration was fine, but the game of crime inspired her.

Once he was caught up, Donaldson asked the expected question. "So. Rumor or truth?"

Holly sighed. "I'm old."

"Sixty is the new forty," he offered. "But I get it, I do. You've had the job forever."

She smiled at that. "A long time."

"When do you want to go public?"

"When we release the plan for the year? And I was thinking... Rodney."

There was a pause on the line. "Frang? Your Assistant ME? Seriously?"

"He's stepping down here soon. I think, laterally, it's a good move. He's a decade younger than I am." Holly wasn't happy Rodney was quitting, but she had to agree it was time. He liked being assistant, but with her double load, he'd basically been the go-to pathologist for the lab for years.

Years. For years Holly had felt she was crazy for doing the job twice. She remembered the day she'd sat with Gail, talking about it. About doing both. Gail had listened, seriously, intently. It had been a good year, while Vivian had still been in high school and before she'd started dating Olivia. The quiet time.

And the offer had come, would she, would Holly like to take over as the head of forensics for Ontario. It was unexpected. Usually people who taught, or worked at hospitals were selected. People who had political aspirations. If Elaine had been a medical examiner, that would have been her direction.

Holly though, she had no such dreams. She didn't need her name to be known to the world, and yet it was. There were tv shows made about her. Papers read around the world. Presentations... well maybe not. But still. Holly's mark was made in other ways than an election.

"What'd Frang think?'

"He was interested. He could do it and teach a masters class at UoT."

The man on the phone sighed. "You know. Yeah. Yeah let's make this happen. You'd keep your credentials and be on call, right?"

Holly laughed. "I'm not quitting my day job. Not for a while yet."

Donaldson laughed. "Let's get the paperwork started today, huh? No matter what."

While it added hours to her day, while it got Holly home well after Gail, it was what she wanted. Holly knew the moment she filled in the papers that it was what she wanted. She walked in her door, beaming.

"Uh oh," muttered Gail. "John said the lawyers were hell. It can't be that."

"Donaldson and I started the paperwork. By summer, I'm done."

Gail looked up, surprised. A flurry of emotions raced across her face. Doubt first. Then concern. But in the end, she stopped on hope. "With... Ontario?"

Holly smiled. "Yes. Just Ontario." Taking off her jacket, Holly tossed it onto the couch and then walked into the kitchen. "It's for real."

Her wife looked back at the stove top, her face flushed. "Oh. Wow... I didn't think you'd do it so fast."

"Me neither, but I was catching Donaldson up and ... He asked about the rumor."

"There was a rumor?" Gail sounded shocked.

"I'm a woman of a certain age, honey. There are _always_ rumors." She caught Gail's displeased scowl in the reflection of the oven door. "You mean you don't know the ones about you?"

"What?" Gail swiveled, splashing her hand with oil. She cursed and sucked the side of her hand. "What rumors!?"

Oh dear. Holly came over to the stove and gently took Gail's hand. "That you're going to move to IA. Or put on a white shirt. Or take over something else. Sweetheart, I've been hearing those since you became Inspector Peck." Soothingly, Holly brushed her fingertips over the burn. It was barely red, but still she kissed it softly.

Exhaling loudly, Gail nodded. "Yeah, but those aren't retiring."

"They'll start soon enough," mused Holly. She held Gail's hand to her cheek. "Is it scary?"

Her wife didn't reply at first. She cupped Holly's cheek and smiled a tired, worn, smile. "Yes." Gail exhaled a deep, heartfelt, breath. "It's terrifying. It's worse than accepting the promotions. To .. to move on. I don't... what will you do with your free time?"

Holly shrugged and pressed her cheek more into the hand, an action which had Gail caressing her cheekbone with a thumb. The real question was what would _Gail_ do with _her_ free time when she retired. "Sleep in a little. Delegate more. Garden. Write. Write a book."

"Yeah?" Gail's perfect lips curved into a smile. "What in? An analysis of an autopsy?"

"Not my best title," admitted Holly. "Maybe diatoms?"

The blonde sighed, this time a happy sound. "Well. That'll beat anything I can do for your sixty." She kissed Holly softly. "Get drinks for dinner? Sounds like a vino night."

"Only if we can eat on the couch."

"Slacker." Gail grinned and patted Holly's face before going back to cooking. "Is it okay that I don't feel ready yet?"

Holly frowned as she got down glasses. "For the couch?"

"For ... doing less work.

"Oh. God, no. And I'm not retiring yet. I think I'd go insane. Kid needs to get me a grandbaby first."

Gail laughed. "Stop pushing her."

"I have never once pushed her," said Holly firmly. "What case excited you today?"

"We have a Safary print, and narrowed down her base of operations, _and_ Chloe's got eyes on those locations so I'm hoping to have her by the end of the month. Sooner if I'm lucky."

That was very good news. "Life is 90% luck, I hear." Holly grinned and looked at the pan. "Is that pork?"

"Mmmhmmm. It looked good. There's rice and green stuff too, don't worry."

"Never." When Gail laughed, Holly amended herself. "Rarely." She poured two glasses of wine. "I don't want to run out of time to do what I want to do with my life, Gail."

Her wife glanced over. "So we're going skydiving after all? Damn it, McNally..."

Holly laughed. Yes. They were going skydiving. And to do stupid things like dance in the rain and get drunk on tequila and find a drive in movie. But they had the time to do all of that now.

And they would. Together.

* * *

"Being comfortable in silence is a good thing," said her therapist.

Vivian snorted. "You're a laugh riot."

"You're paying me to sit here. I was thinking about what to make for dinner. You?"

"I... I was thinking the whole living with your girlfriend thing is weird."

Her therapist frowned. "Is it not going well?"

"I think it is? I mean, that's what's weird." Vivian sighed and sunk into the chair. "After this year, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

The woman laughed softly. "The world doesn't always work like that."

That was part of why Vivian liked her. She was not Vivian's first adult therapist, not by a long shot, and it had taken a year to find the right one. Gail and Holly still saw the man who was their family therapist, but Vivian had found herself unable to talk to him about some things. Finally, after an honest explanation to the nurse/secretary, three weeks of meeting doctors, Vivian had found Marjorie Cooper.

Dr. Cooper was warm and quiet. She was incredibly patient when Vivian got caught up in her head, and had more than once extended a session to let Vivian work out absolutely boring issues. And when Vivian had been shot? Marjorie offered to come over and talk if needed. When Jamie was unconscious, there had been a phone conversation where Marjorie gently calmed her down.

She was good. At least for Vivian. Holly liked the other doctor because she could talk doctor with him. Gail liked him because he gave her shit. Vivian hadn't minded that, but she knew she needed someone she could open up to a little more.

"My moms have these friends, they're cops, and they have a kid who's six years younger than I am. Chris."

In the pause, Marjorie remarked, "You babysat him and ... Jerry?"

"Yeah. Only Chris isn't him. They're non-binary. Which, I mean, I kinda guessed when they were a kid. They're in their last year of school. Senior. And they came over to ask me for advice. Because I'm the queerest cop they know."

"A little daunting?"

"A lot. I... I've wanted to be a cop so long, I'm comfortable with having my teammates out their lives in my hand... but Chris is a kid!"

Marjorie nodded. "And they're not your child, or your family. But you feel responsible."

"I don't think they should be a cop. I don't think they'd like it."

"Could they do it?'

"Oh yeah. Chris is hella smart. But ... they wear their heart on their sleeve. They'll get hurt."

"And you don't?"

Damn it. Vivian scowled. "I do," she admitted.

"Life is not meant to kick you down, Vivian."

"God, I know." She groaned and slouched more. "I have a great family. My moms are amazing, their friends are loving and caring, and my girlfriend is awesome and..." Vivian trailed off. "I'm still really fucked up."

"But you trust her."

"I do." Vivian sighed. "I do. She likes me. And ... I like her." Vivian looked at her hands. "What if she wants kids?"

"Are you against the idea?"

"No. I .. I would want to adopt. Maybe an older kid like me, or a teen. Someone stuck in the system. But... I don't know how my moms did it."

"A lot of hard work."

"I don't know if I can do it."

"You can do a lot of things, if you put your mind to it."

"That's helpful," she mumbled. "I don't know if I _want_ to."

"Well. That's okay too."

"Mom... Gail said to be open to the idea."

"That can mean saying no."

That... that was a good point. Vivian sighed. "I really like Jamie. How... How do I stop being weird about her parents?"

Dr. Cooper sighed and took off her glasses. "That is a good question, Vivian." The doctor studied her for a moment. "It's not all talking about your past to everyone. Sometimes it's accepting you are who you are."

"Awesome. I'm going to be fucked up for life." Vivian dropped her head to the back of the couch. "I don't want to be," she complained. "I want to be normal. Y'know? I don't want to feel all weird around men. I don't wanna be into them, or ... I don't know. Maybe I do. I don't really care. I just want to stop feeling all tense and foreboding. Like they're going to ..." She stopped.

"To what?" Dr. Cooper asked after a long pause.

"I don't know. I wish I remembered what he did."

"That would make it easier, yes. But do you need to?"

"What do you mean?" Vivian squinted at the doctor, curiously.

"Let's say you never remember why men bother you, or what your biological father did. Beyond what you know today. If you never do, does that change anything?"

Vivian looked at the woman and then let her eyes drift up to the wall. "You mean would it fix anything?" The doctor said nothing. "No. Not really. No." Vivian tossed the idea around in her head. "I mean, identifying is helpful, but it hasn't changed anything yet. I still feel like you shouldn't trust men with guns."

"Well." Her doctor smirked a little. "Few things are as terrifying as white men with guns and anger issues."

"Right." Vivian huffed. "Are we back to trying to find coping mechanisms?"

"Is it not working?"

"Mostly. I got yelled at for slipping on the rope last month." Vivian looked at her hands, which had some interesting calluses now. "I'm supposed to be solving a crime. Or the bombs. And I kinda did. But now it's done and I'm back to being a rope monkey."

"Reconsidering being a detective?"

She laughed. "God, no. I'm used to handing crime away. It's just ... it was my first big case. I expected... I expected something."

Vivian was still dwelling on that they next day. When she'd gotten home, Jamie was circumspect and gave her space. They'd talked about it before, how Vivian was often introspective and more silent than normal after a therapy appointment. She just had a lot to process. Having Jamie around did make it a little harder, but Vivian had seen Gail and Holly work with it for years. So she took a leaf from her mothers' book and just told Jamie flat out what was going on. Sometimes she just needed to think.

And Jamie was okay with that. She made dinner, usually something simple, and read. She didn't try to talk to Vivian much at all, except to ask if she wanted a drink, or to suggest they go to bed.

So Vivian didn't tell Jamie about the slightly (totally) vain thought that she should have had some accolades and praise in public for the success of her bomb making skills. And she didn't mention that she felt she should have had some recognition. No, instead she kept her peace and tried to think about why she felt like she should be special. Because that was novel to Vivian.

Growing up, Vivian never felt special. She didn't want to. She wanted to be normal and not stand out. Normal was common and boring and no one asked questions about normal. Normal meant people didn't think about her. Yet here she was, 25, wanting to be, and a little hurt not to be, recognized. That was just plain weird, wasn't it?

With that sort of thought fomenting in the back of her mind, Vivian practiced the ascender and locking into into place. She ran through a dry run with the rest of the second stringers, forgetting her nerves and actually getting everything right for a change. That reminded her the trick of it all. Relax. Zen out. Don't overthink. Never think about winning, think about each move and moment and movement as its own. She knew what to do. She had always known what to do.

As soon as she hit the ground from her last run, Vivian found herself face to face with her boss. "Peck! Not that I'm upset to see your clever face, but didn't I assign you to find Safary's lairs?" Sue looked amused at least.

"They're having meetings till lunch, ma'am. Thought I'd get some practice in."

"Well you would know," admitted Sue. "How's that going?"

Vivian pulled off her helmet. "Uh, I thought Jules— Sgt. Smith would keep you updated."

Sue waved a hand. "That's a report. How's it really going? I always found it frustrating." The grimace that crossed Vivian's face must have been telling. "Oh yeah, you're in the weeds?"

"I'm no Sherlock. Asking me to find the one place where a weird brand of cigarettes were sold..."

"Nah, that's your mother's game. The doc's. It's creepy she can do that shit, you know?"

"They're a dynamic duo when you get 'em on the same case too."

Sue laughed. "Seen that more than once. What's your next step with the locations?"

Vivian sighed. "Well. Chloe— Sgt. Price is chasing down druggie's dreams to try and find locations based on cellphone triangulation. Inspector Peck is following the trail of graffiti and sales. And I ... am going to match those up with samples from the lab. Get a closer lock on where."

Nodding, Sue folded her arms. "Which is work any lab monkey could do, so why am I making you do it?"

Now that she mentioned it... Vivian scratched the side of her jaw. "I'm trying not to ask that one, ma'am. I'm a rook. We don't ask those questions."

The lieutenant smiled. "You, Peck. You're going to be different. Those adrenaline junkies I have, they're great. They're smart, they're talented, and they know how to do what needs doing. But for the most part, they lack vision. Do you know why you were first alternate?"

Vivian shook her head.

"If you look at the numbers, you're the best of the lot. On paper. You're brilliant with engineering. I bet Holly cries that you're not some retro Elon Musk."

"Sometimes," admitted Vivian, under her breath.

"But you don't have experience. You don't have field history. You're not ready to lead." Sue tapped Vivian's chest. "You are, like you said, a rook. But you are also a Peck. And my job is to make sure those two things balance each other out."

Vivian arched an eyebrow. "You are aware I'm adopted, right?"

"I'm aware Elaine Peck took a firm hand in your post high school education."

That was true. After Elaine and Gail stopped shouting at each other, they'd colluded to fast track Vivian in how to be a cop. They'd run her through handling weapons, driving, and above all, the logic games. On top of that, Vivian had crammed her engineering work in, hoping desperately not to disappoint Holly, who had put up with so, so much.

"So ... this is grad school?"

"You're going in with the tactical team when we find Safary."

Vivian felt like she'd been slapped. "I'm not tac..."

"No. You're not. But you are a bomb genius, and you're going to know Safary inside and out, so when tac takes on her secret lair, and she inevitably has a bomb, you will be with them to take the bomb out and keep them safe." Sue tapped her chest again. "So you need to trust you and do this. You need to use that brain and get it all in there so you can earn their trust and your place for real. Now. Can you do this?"

The weight of Sue's words settled on her shoulders and Vivian shuddered a little.

This was what Elaine had tried to warn her about. As a Peck, her legacy was always going to be at the cost of what paths people had walked before her. Vivian was the latest in an unbroken line of Toronto Blue. The name she had taken as shield and savior was now the one she had to bear for others. She had to protect not just the innocent and civilians, but her fellow officers.

People's lives depended on her.

There was only one answer.

"Yes. I can," she told Sue, firmly, feeling a greasy, queasiness in her gut. Fear. She felt fear.

But not doubt.

This was, after all, what she wanted.

* * *

Her desk, wall, and much of the floor were covered in notes. The wall was the map, with carefully documented points of interest, all given mathematical probability (as determined by her own daughter) to tell Gail not only where the likely lairs were, but where possible targets lay.

Because Safary was still in the city limits.

Because Chloe had a skel with eyes on the woman from two days ago.

Because right now Gail had a covert ops team watching her.

And damned if the woman wasn't playing it straight.

Oh they could have swooped in and picked her off the street for matching the profile and description of a known suspect. The problem was that without concrete evidence, they'd have to roll her free in 48 hours, and she'd be in the wind. And there was no guarantee they'd have enough to keep her on.

Shit they barely had enough to pick her up with. All they had was rookie cop's description and a possible match from two drug addled idiots in rehab. One idiot. Maisie had skipped town. As expected.

Gail massaged her temples. Right now, she would give a lot to be a simple grunt in a blue uniform, instead of a suit. Well. Jeans and boots and a blazer. She'd only broken down and worn a suit a few times after making head of the Major Case Squad, before telling her bosses it wasn't for her. They hadn't cared. Let her wear what she wanted with a close record like she had.

If only she could make serious headway on the Safary case. This was not the biggest case in her career (that remained the royals), however it certainly was on the top ten, if not five. This was a case spanning a decade with implications in multiple territories.

The Peck in her recognized that solving the case would be a feather in her cap and pave her way for whatever future she wanted. The wife in her dreamed about leveraging it into early retirement and years of relaxing sin with Holly. The mother thought about making the world safer for her child and potential grandchildren. The police officer though...

Detective Inspector Gail Antonia Peck. Mother. Wife. Friend. Cop.

She was, now and forever more, all those things. And she had a responsibility to her family and her city, if not the world, to make things safer for everyone. Long before she'd been a wife and a mother, before she'd been a girlfriend or even Gail Peck, fucked up sociopath, she'd known the value of a life and the purpose of her own.

After all, she was a Peck. Pecks knew sacrifice of self for the world. They also knew fame and fortune, something many of her name desired but most could do without. No, at the heart of things, Pecks really, truly, deeply, honestly wanted to make the world better. Even her more peculiar ancestors, the Howlands and the Fairchilds, had wanted the same.

Gail stopped and stared at the wall. Her lineage bespoke similarities to the Haan head bashers. But her actions and journey took towards Safary.

"She wants to make the world better," muttered Gail.

She knew that. Safary wanted to save people too. The people who couldn't, wouldn't save themselves. And without the shield and barrier of the law, Safary could do anything.

"Boy are you in the weeds," said John, closing the door as he walked in.

"Fuck you too." Gail smiled up at her partner and most reliable right hand man. "How was Mexico and what did you bring me?"

"Enlightening. Mounties in shorts are pretty impressive."

Gail screwed her face up. "Ew. At least my pale is attractive."

John made a show of studying Gail. "I suppose." He shrugged and started to sit on the couch, only to pause and regard the papers. "Seriously? The woman who agitated for use to go paperless has a fuck tonne of dead trees all over the place?"

"History predates computers, hoser." Gail waved a hand. "Just stack those up. They're in my out-box."

"How goes your Safary hunt?"

With a laugh, Gail pushed away from her desk and propped her feet up. "Funny. Apparently she's been using memes with the catch-phrase of 'safari hunt' to find her targets."

John paused his stacking of her papers. "No shit? That's some wild ass crap. My head bashers just have an arrangement."

"How many are left?"

"Out there? Maybe five. We think. The Mounties are collecting their men. A few outliers, retired old ones. They don't need me."

"So you came home for me?" Gail faux simpered. "I knew you loved me."

"Fuck yourself, Gail. My damn wedding is coming up."

There was no animosity in his words any more than hers. They had been partners and friends for an incredibly long time. She had worked with him more closely than anyone else in the world, even Holly. If Gail was lucky, she got one or two good cases with Holly a year. The rest of the time, they worked in related, adjacent, but not touching circles.

But Gail and John? Well. They'd worked together every day for decades. They saw each other day in, day out, and sometimes weekends. They'd slept in the same bed (twice), and they would never speak of it again. They'd spent hours together working an undercover case. They'd solved a hundred crimes.

So Gail knew John quite well. "How's Janet handling all this?"

"Okay. She's not happy. Which is the other reason I'm home." John frowned and leafed through the papers. "It's time to let go a little."

"Please tell me that's not a prelude to retiring. It's weird enough without Steve, and now Holly..." She shuddered.

John sat bolt upright. "She's _what_!?"

Gail rewound her words and winced. "God, no. Just the Territory stuff. No more chief ME of Ontario as of summer."

"Thank fuck." John exhaled a loud sigh of relief. "Jesus, that's gonna rock the world."

"Probably not." Gail shrugged. "She nominated Rodney for the gig. I think she'll be happier without the paperwork and politics side of things."

"Yeah but... well. She only had the job for like five years anyway. I guess..."

"Closer to eight. But yeah." Gail sighed and leaned back as far as her chair would go. "I can't figure out where the hell Safary is."

John, accepting the topic change for what it was (an avoidance of discussions of getting old), craned his neck and looked at her wall. "Are those ... Are those percentages of probability per location? Who did that?"

"My kid. She also made a working replica, full scale, of Safary's bombs, and Sue has her boning up so when we find the lair, that kid can walk in with tactical assault, defuse a bomb on site, and save the world."

"Hmmm." John frowned. "But no pressure."

"None at all."

"Think she can do it?"

Gail sighed. "Yes. Inspector Peck says yes. Because the kid is fucking smart and talented and knows her shit."

Her sergeant nodded and then stood up. "Components. She builds them in separate locations and assembles them on site. So. What order?"

Without even thinking, Gail gestured. "No matter what, you pick up the least volatile material first. The explosive parts last. Though we blew up one of those."

"You'd have a backup," opined John.

"Sure. Not in the same type of place. Hell, I'd probably have a place to experiment and a secondary location and rotate 'em." Gail swung her feet off her desk and walked over, snatching a wall pen on her way. "Here's what we know." She circled the storage unit and the collapsed shitty apartments.

"We haven't checked the others?"

Gail eyed John. "We're working it. We're following her."

If John had been holding anything, he would have dropped it. "You have eyes on her?"

"Yeah. Prime suspect." Gail pointed at the photo on her wall. "Cindy Smith."

" _That's_ an alias."

"Right. She hasn't done anything suspicious. Yet. So we have UC and some rookies monitoring. Fuller and Aronson."

"They're all you got left," joked John. "Except Hanford... man. What are we going to do with Abercrombie?"

"Honestly? He has his moments." Gail stared at her board. "Hey. Watch the wall, will you?" John made a noise of agreement and Gail snatched up her tablet. The full cell phone records were still not included in her warrants. The judge said it was too broad without any concrete evidence. But she could, and did, get the list of numbers who came to the antique shop. And she matched those with the ones in other areas, like where the bomb components were housed.

And right now, Gail tapped a key to mark the trails of the most visited locations.

John saw the dots and drew lines, linking them up. "What've you got?"

"Some components are more rare than others," said Gail softly. "She has to hit them up all the time. Finish building her bomb parts and then putting them in safe storage. Like that unit the kids found. Make that line thicker."

Nodding again, John thickened the lines with more traffic. "Well. I see where you'll be sending the eyes on units to. I'll go get Chloe."

"Thanks." Gail barely acknowledged his departure, staring at the wall. They had traffic patterns for the cell phone that matched locations for the bomb parts.

They had her. Now ...Now to catch her.

* * *

The headline was upsetting.

"Toronto Police Make Headway with LEGO Bomber."

Gail had received the phone call at three in the morning and neither of them had slept since. At five, Holly gave up and made breakfast. Her wife's metabolic system would burn through its reserves quickly, sending the pissed off Inspector well into her most dangerous moods.

By the time breakfast was ready, Gail stomped back down the stairs, half dressed. "I'm going to kill him," she snarled, heading right for the coffee.

Wisely, Holly held out a mug. "You know who leaked?"

"I do. Sam fucking Swarek."

Holly jerked her head back. "Sam!? How did that happen?"

"Apparently he didn't know Marlo's cousin was a blogger for that stupid news site that bought out HuffPo."

Holly felt like she'd sucked on a lemon. "A blogger?"

"Yeah, the cousin was over, talking about stuff, and fucking Sam mentioned his case and how he'd been pulled off it, but blah blah innovative bombs. Damn it. Now she knows! She's gonna fucking rabbit, and I have to fire Sam god-damned Swarek, instead of fucking easing him out, because he screwed over OC!"

Okay, that was way worse. "Doesn't SIU have to investigate?"

"They are, but Sam already admitted fault." Gail sucked down her coffee and eyed the food. "I can't eat."

"Yes you can, Gail." Holly pushed the eggless breakfast sandwich over. "Eat."

Gail scowled and picked up the food to take a bite. With a smile, Holly patted Gail's head. "I'm not a pet," complained Gail around her mouthful of food.

"You are a dear, though. Are you headed right over?"

Despondent, Gail nodded. "SIU is rushing their case. They already talked to Marlo and the blogging firm. Jesus. I miss newspapers."

"I'll remember you said that later."

Gail flipped Holly off. "Point being, by the time I get to Twenty-Seven, it'll be over except the handover." Then she sighed. "Jesus can you imagine the shitstorm if he was still married to Andy? She'd hate me!"

Sometimes the right reply to Gail in a self-deprecating moment was to tease her. Sometimes the answer was a joke or a mocking comment of agreement. Light belittling. Never meant seriously, but as a counterpoint to things. Gail's natural ego would rise and defend herself nine times out of ten.

That tenth time, though, Gail wasn't mocking herself. That time was Gail feeling too much, the cut of bone and blood that came with her name and history. That was Gail shouldering the inescapable fate of a Peck. That was Gail, a scared child, facing death and defamation and destruction. All because no one else would.

The first time Holly had seen it, she'd not recognized it for what it was. How could she know the real reasons behind Gail's freak out in her bathroom? She'd only known Gail a frenetic few months at that point. She knew the woman alright, but not deeply. Not like she knew Gail now.

"Honey," said Holly softly.

She tried to put everything into that one word.

Tell her, with a look, with a voice, with a soft smile. Tell her with a cup of tea and a reminder to eat. Tell her every day. Use the words she cannot say, the ones that threaten to swallow her whole. Use the touch and remind her that it can be said, in an action if needed, or a text.

Remember everything that brought the two here. Remember the disparaging comments, the snide humor, the bitter darkness. The way she rolled through your soul like that first taste of coffee in the morning. The way she became the brightest spot in your life without trying. The way even when one of you tried to leave, it was too too late. Both your hearts were goners.

Tell her.

Just let those beautiful, stunning blue eyes look up with fear and doubt, and then let it all wash away as she basked in the look.

Let her see her eyes reflected.

Let her see what Holly saw every day.

And Gail did.

Gail exhaled and put her coffee cup down. Gail turned, walked only a few steps away, and she stood in the center of their great room, her back to Holly. "Holly... I have to go ask for the badge of the man who cut my tie." Gail's voice was incredibly soft. Scared. She had spoken no louder when she mentioned the inch of her hair that represented Jerry.

Holly put her coffee mug down and walked up behind Gail, wrapping her arms around the blonde. "No one will respect him more in doing this than you, honey," said Holly gently. "No one will be more fair."

Two pale hands reached up to cover her own. "Will he see it that way? Or will he just see a Peck?" Now her voice shook the smallest, teensiest, bit.

"I will see Gail Peck." Holly rested her cheek on Gail's shoulder. "I will see the bravest, toughest woman I know. I will see the most caring person I know. And so will everyone else. Because they know you're the only one who can be the bad guy and the hero in the same breath."

She felt more than heard Gail's shuddering exhale.

"Okay." Gail shifted her weight and Holly let go. The cop turned around and kissed the corner of Holly's mouth. "Thank you."

With a smile she didn't quite feel, Holly smoothed Gail's hair back. "Go put on your darkest jeans, your boots, and the green blazer. Keep the black shirt on. Okay?" Gail nodded but didn't go anywhere. She just leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "You can do this."

Again, Gail nodded. She leaned back, took a deep breath, and went upstairs to change.

It felt like Holly was always adjusting her schedule in a rush, and today was no different. But Gail would need her later, after the work had been done. So Holly rearranged and reassigned things. She quickly handed off her Territory work to Rodney, who handed his Medical Examiner work off to his assistant (and maybe soon to be replacement). They both dumped things onto the desk of the newest in their chain of command.

Then Holly took the time to speak with those who needed to know about her plan, her slow stepping back and Rodney's move. It was not unexpected by the lab, but as Ananda said, it was still unexpected.

"After all, you're a living legend."

That gave her pause.

A living legend. Was that what she wanted to be? It really made a woman think.

Holly was still thinking about it when flashed her ID and swiped her card to walk into Twenty-Seven from the lot. She didn't come by all that often. With Gail stationed at Fifteen, that was the Division Holly considered home. After that was Thirty-Four, where the irascible Sgt. Frankie Anderson was located. But here... Holly's eyes drifted to the wall where the fallen heroes stood in timeless effigy.

Those were legends.

The second row held a face she still saw in her dreams from time to time. Detective Lucas James Callaghan. She'd not known his middle name until months after his death, when she'd finally had energy and wherewithal, and forced Gail to take her to his grave. Luke was why Sam was here. This, Twenty-Seven, was where the disgraced from Fifteen went.

Near the bottom was another face. Detective Josephine Rosati. That face haunted Gail less than expected. For all Gail had seen, felt Jo's brains blown out by a man with a gun, she'd moved past the death fairly well. Jo's son, Joseph, a child she herself had babysat and napped with, was now twenty-two and playing football for a college in Florida.

Time moved ever onward.

How many of the fallen were from Fifteen, wondered Holly. Gail would know. Holly wouldn't ask any time soon. Maybe come summer, when it was bright and warm and they lay on the grass lawn by the lake, watching the birds and fish. Or maybe she just wouldn't ask at all. Did it really matter?

"Dr. Stewart!"

Holly turned and spotted the white shirt of Sgt. Rogers. "Bryce. Nice to see you." She smiled.

"Is there a case I should know about?" The man frowned.

"Oh no, no. I'm here to pick up a, no doubt, very irate Inspector."

Bryce winced. "She's in my office with Douglas and Swarek..." He trailed off. "It's really fucked up."

"Yes," said Holly softly. "It is." She gave one last look to Luke and Jo. One last thought of how they'd impacted her life. And Holly walked away from the wall. "No general inquiry?"

"No, not for Sam. He fessed up right away. I've had his gun and badge since six this morning." Bryce shoved his hands into his pockets. "Place is gonna be weird. Who the hell ... I mean. Don't get me wrong, Doc. There's a lot wrong with Sam Swarek. But he loves this job."

"I know he does."

Bryce swallowed and nodded. They both lapsed into silence until the office door opened and Gail walked out. "Bryce." She jerked her chin at him and came to stand by Holly. "Hey."

The confused look on Gail's face sent Holly back decades. She smiled and brushed Gail's jacket lapels. "Hey."

Gail narrowed her eyes. "You didn't have to come."

"I know. But I also know you need to eat. Go get your bag."

Now she rolled her eyes, but the blonde acquiesced quickly. "Fine. I need to talk to one more person. Five minutes?"

Holly nodded and watched her wife head to the detective bullpen where someone was standing by a box. That must have been Sam's desk. What a stark realization. Holly had helped Noelle box up her desk, but that had been a planned moment.

"Doc," said a new voice, starling her.

She looked up at the burly, hound-dog faced Sam Swarek. Holly nearly called him by his title, her normal reply, only to have the stark reality echo in her heart. "Sam," she replied quietly. "I guess ... Good luck?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah. I'm okay. She made sure of that." He looked at where Gail stood, her back to them, and a quaking young woman. Probably Sam's replacement. "You know... Gail had no reason to do it, but she made sure... She made sure I get a package. That I'm not gonna get dragged in the mud. She said I got a kid goin' to college soon, and I'm still family." Sam glanced at Holly. "But. But you. You expect that from her, don't'cha?"

Holly couldn't not smile. "I do, Sam. I do."

The man huffed. "Wish more people did. She pretends she don't care. That folks not trusting her doesn't cut her. They don't see how much she gives to this job. This city."

None of that was news to Holly. It was part of why she fell so hard for Gail, a woman who was so selfless. Gail would give everything for the blue she'd wear, probably until she died. And she knew Sam knew she knew. "What are you getting at, Sam?"

"Nothing... everything. Maybe... Maybe thank you." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Thank you for makin' sure she doesn't burn out. Giving her what she needs. Deserves. All the shit her family did, she still fought for 'em and bled for 'em." Sam sighed. "And I know you worry about your kid. That she sees all this crap Gail does, and she's gonna get hurt too."

Holly sucked on her teeth. "Sam..." He was right. Holly did, always, worry Vivian would get hurt trying to prove she was as much a Peck as Gail. That Vivian deserved to be a Peck.

"Nah nah, lemme say this and get out before Gail comes back, okay?" He cleared his throat. "Your kid, Vivian, she's smart and good and the most ready copper I've seen in years. And I see her, I know she took Peck and put on blue for the same reasons I did. Trying to run away from what she was." Sam paused. "My old man, he beat me and my mom and my sister. He died in prison. Whatever happened to your kid before you got her, it left the same thing on her it did me. I see it. I know it. But the difference, Doc... She's got you guys. And she's gonna be amazing. Ten years, she's gonna clean this place up."

And there he stopped. He nodded, as if the words were everything he'd needed to say, and he walked away.

Holly frowned a little. So. That 'thing' Vivian saw in Sam, that part of him the girl had never liked, was their similar history. Vivian saw some of herself in Sam, and it scared her. Probably. Not that it was something Holly could ask. That wasn't her place to share Sam's story, not even to Gail.

"Hey, why the frown? I get to be the grumpy cat." Gail had her shoulder bag in hand. "What'd Hound Dog say?"

"Just goodbye." Holly shook her head and took Gail's hand. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

"The market? They have that Indian place. Chicken and mango samosa's."

Holly smiled. Leave it to Gail to default to food in time of need. "Yeah. Let's do that." Food. That was a direction. "Pick up some for the kids?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "How did we end up with three?" But she was smiling as they walked out. A weary, worn smile, but a smile.

* * *

The apartment was empty. Clean but empty. And a note from her moms.

"I need to ask them for the keys," muttered Vivian, opening the take out box. "Oh! Samosas!"

Quickly counting them, Vivian determined she could eat three without anyone getting pissed off. Count on Gail to purchase in Gail Portions.

Vivian split the food into three, labeling them, and microwaving her own. Between the three of them, they'd sorted out a way to keep track of chores and food. Jamie had drawn up a chart, listing everyone's work days and hours, and who was responsible for what.

Normally Vivian had charge of cooking. Jamie and Christian took the brunt of the cleaning, and everyone did their own laundry. Well. Christian did his. Vivian and Jamie had slowly started to do theirs together, which was odd. Of course she'd done her laundry with her parents, but once Vivian was old enough to do her own, she'd tended to wash her clothes separately.

With Christian, they had totally done their laundry separately. She didn't want his stinky boy sheets in with hers after all. Not to mention underwear. Ick. And to a degree, she thought she'd feel that way about Jamie's as well. Underwear was private stuff.

The third or fourth time she'd hung up Jamie's stuff to dry, Vivian realized she didn't care after all. It was just clothes. Clean clothes. And it wasn't like she didn't wash her hands after messing with the dirty.

With three people, though, they had to sort out who used the machines and when. Today being the only day of the month Vivian had it all to herself, she did as much of her and Jamie's laundry as possible. But that, and cleaning, only ate up a few hours of a day, and it had been a long time since Vivian found herself with 30 uninterrupted hours of no housemates and no chores. Unless her moms were gone for a long weekend without her (a rarity), and even then Steve or Elaine or Oliver or a hundred other people would swing by to check on her, she'd rarely had alone time.

Now she was an adult. Now Vivian was expected to want to be alone sometimes, to want to reach out if she needed friendship or more. And she did. She knew how to. If she picked up her phone and called Matty, he would ask her to come over while he sewed. And they would laugh about stupid things. He would ask her to explain sports, which Enrico loved, and she would ask him what easy intro to dance and music she could take Jamie to, because her girlfriend still didn't quite understand the reasons.

Or she could go to the gym and run up and down obstacles and stop thinking about everything. The worry about her family, biological and the one she'd made, the worry about how Gail was handling the whole Swarek situation...

God that was fucked up. She'd woken up to Jamie texting her about the news. Everyone, even the firemen, had heard about that one. Had Vivian known? And who was the leak? Vivian hadn't, but ten seconds of thinking told her who it had to be. No one who worked directly under Gail would dare. That meant it had to be someone along the mental capacity of Gerald making a fuckup. And Gerald? No one gave him intel like that.

But Sam Swarek knew. It had been his case, however briefly, and Vivian had been partly at fault for him being kicked off. She told Jamie she suspected someone, and would have to check. Jamie asked if Vivian was okay, and it felt nice. Or something. Andy would probably say it warmed her heart, or some bullshit. But... it just felt nice.

Texting Gail resulted in a similar feeling. Vivian asked her mother if _she_ was okay, only to have Gail reply that it was not Vivian's fault. Or Lara's. For Gail to say that meant that she herself was going to handle the situation. Vivian had winced and considered texting Holly, but instead decided to trust Gail. She told her mother she could come over for dinner, and Gail said maybe. A good sign.

A better sign, when Vivian got back from her errands and her run, was the food. The samosas (mango and chicken? amazing!) meant that Holly was making sure Gail ate and took care of her mental health, so Vivian felt better that Gail didn't ask her to come by. They'd be okay.

Still. That meant she had _nothing_ to do. Ugh.

Laundry was done. Cleaning was done. Errands were done.

"The problem," Vivian said aloud. "The problem is I'm too fucking efficient."

She could watch Netflix or Amazon or regular TV. Movies, sports, or a hundred other things. She could read a book, Jamie had recommended a million after all. Or... Vivian sighed and looked at her tablet.

"I come from a long line of workaholics." She tapped the tablet open and pulled up the schematics on another of Safary's bombs. There were so many models and so many variants, it could take her years and she probably only had days. At best.

If Swarek really had done that, Safary was spooked. Safary had to be. And spooked people ran. So Gail's forces would be scrambling to find her. No... No, Chloe's minions would be. Huh. Vivian looked at the whiteboard where they marked their schedules. Christian was working some secret op. He was working for Chloe. He was watching Safary.

That put a slightly more pressing imperative to her work. Vivian sighed and sat on the couch with her food, her tablet, and the news on the radio. Something to tune out. A night in doing research was what the world needed from her right now.

She woke up sometime around 3am to her phone ringing. "Peck," she mumbled, climbing out of the blankets and a confusing dream about defusing a bomb in order to have sex (seriously, subconscious, what was wrong with you?).

"Sorry for the early call," said the familiar voice of dispatch. Emily. Right. She'd been the night dispatch for years. A wonderful woman, mom of four, she had been a calming voice to hear on Vivian's first foray into the night shift.

"Long time no hear." Vivian yawned and sat up. "How hot is this?"

"Scorching. ETF, tac and EDU, and most of, er, Peck's squad from OC." The amusement in Emily's voice was hard to miss.

"Alright. Rolling out. One Central or Fifteen?"

"Fifteen. Peck and Tran are making a . team. Congratulations."

"Yeah, you've met my mom, Emily." Vivian grinned and hung up. Since Emily hadn't said to be there yesterday, Vivian took time to wash up and make coffee before heading over to Fifteen.

It proved to be the right call. Chloe was just rolling in herself. "Hey, Little Peck. It's go time."

Vivian locked her bike and nodded. While Chloe was, per usual, smiling, the nerves had started to inch up. Did she know enough? Was she ready? Vivian knew this day was going to include her going first (maybe second) into a building to defuse a bomb. "Yeah, yeah it is," she replied.

Chloe, a mom, and a lifelong friend (no matter how much it made Gail bluster), looked like she wanted to sling her arm around around Vivian's shoulders. There was too much of a height gap between them. So Chloe settled for looping her arm through Vivian's instead. "Hey. You know we know you're not ready, right?"

Technically she knew but ... "Wow, way to be sensitive," said Vivian, aware her tone was very Gail in its snideness.

"I am. You're scared because people's lives are going to be on your shoulders. And you should be. But we know you're scared and green." Chloe pinched her cheek. "We're counting on it."

Weirdly, that kind of helped. "Oh..."

"There you go."

"Hey Price, stop manhandling my bomb expert."

They both looked at Sue. "Just grounding her first." Chloe beamed at Vivian. "Feel better?"

"I'd feel better if you let me go," grumbled Vivian.

The familiar scoff of Gail Peck came from behind them. "Chloe. Come on. I've got video."

Chloe ooooohed like a child and dropped Vivian's arm to scamper off. "I love the future, don't you?" The two vanished into the parade room.

When Vivian rubbed her arm and frowned a little, Sue made a noise. "That frown of yours is your default worry face."

Vivian jumped. "Well... Dispatch called me in the middle of the night. Can't say I'm relaxed."

Sue gave Vivian a long look. "I know what you can do, kid. Suit up. Peck's gonna debrief us before we go."

Taking a deep breath, Vivian nodded and went to get in her gear. She could do this.

* * *

Sipping her coffee, Gail tried to squelch the slight fear in her gut. "Okay," she said to Sue, managing to keep her voice calm. "What's the video show?"

"One probable. It's a booby trap ten feet in. Here's the penetrating scan." Sue held up her tablet.

Years of practice were the only reason why Gail could understand the picture. The deep penetrating video camera was one of the favorite tricks Sue's team had. It could scan through walls. Sometimes. It was finicky as hell, and it needed time to set up.

That was the only good thing of the current situation. Safary was holed up in her safe house, the one Christian and Jenny had been staking out for a week. They'd seen her go in and, using a telephoto lens, caught sight of her setting up ... something. Like proper cops, they'd called it in. About half an hour later, there was a power surge and Gail was called. Safary was doing something.

Right away, Gail amped up the stakeout, making sure every possible escape route was covered. And she repeated herself a hundred times that use of lethal force was not authorized. They were not going to kill Safary. They were not going to allow her suicide by cop. They were going to carefully, calmly, and logically deescalate.

Which was why Safary had boobytrapped her place.

At least there was no sign of a gun.

That was when Gail formulated the plan and got Sue on board. A middle of the night raid was one thing but an early AM planned takedown was another. This was going to be public, though not as much as the Three Rivers debacle. It certainly wouldn't be as quiet as the arsonist.

"Okay. Can we defuse it without her knowing?" Gail sucked on her lower lip after she asked.

Sue looked over at the tall, slightly pale (though not as much as Gail) Peck. "Without her knowing?"

Vivian leaned over to study the pictures. Her nervousness seemed to fade as she did so. "Can we cut off her cameras?" The girl— the _cop_ tapped the screen, highlighting a line.

"Yeah, that goes to the main junction. She's gonna have eyes on you though."

"Yeah," agreed Vivian. "Can we, I dunno, distract her?"

Both Gail and Sue looked at Vivian, surprised. "Misdirection? While you watch the beautiful assistant, the magician picks your pocket?" Gail grinned ear to ear. "Yeah. We can... Chloe, I'm gonna need you to play negotiator."

Chloe startled but nodded. "Eyes have her over by the north side. Want me to be obvious as hell?"

"Yeah. But watch yourself. Anyone lights you up, I want your ass safe."

Sue coughed a laugh. "Let's send her out with a bomb shield and an ETF jacket. She can play one of us. God knows she's a good enough negotiator."

This seemed to be news to Chloe, but she and Sue went over to kit up in her disguise. Vivian, oblivious to Gail's nerves, trailed them, still studying the picture. Her child was obsessed. Gail sighed and wondered if they had any TUMS.

Instead of asking, she finished her coffee and walked over to the AV van. "Picking up anything?" The AV guys shook their heads. Gail sighed. Okay no spying. She wanted to spy. "Directional mic?"

"Yeah, we got that, but it'll have to be on a different channel than Price."

Damn. That made sense. Gail looked around for inspiration and found it. "Diaz—" She flinched. He wasn't Chris' son, he didn't even look like him, but Christian filled in that void. "Fuller, Aronson, c'mere." Gail gestured for them.

"Ma'am?" Christian looked nervous.

"Do you know what the reward is for a job well done?"

The two looked at each other. "Another job?" Aronson sounded uncertain.

"Bingo. Get headphones. You two are going to listen carefully to our bomber. You hear anything suspicious, I want to know."

"Um. How do we know what's suspicious?" Christian had his hand half raised.

Ah, to be young and naive. Gail wanted to tell them to man up, or whatever, but they were still babies. And unlike Gerald, they didn't need a firm hand to push them in the right direction. No, she bit down on her sarcasm and anger. "You guys have been cops almost three years, right? You know when people sound off. Well... trust your instincts."

"But—" Christian started to protest.

"Hey." Gail snapped. "Shut up, put on the headphones, and use your heads. Training wheels are gone, bucko." And she spun on her heel to walk off. At the other van, where ETF was kitting up, Sue gave Gail a look. "What?" Gail snarled.

"Little harsh there." Sue shrugged and tightened her vest.

"They're not babies anymore, Sue. God knows. You're sending mine in to defuse a bomb, and for all we know Safary has a remote detonator."

"Don't think so," said Sue. "What channel do you use?"

"Usually 7 or 9, but we'll use what you guys are on. This is your show."

And Sue laughed. "Fuck no it's not." She wriggled her earbud in. "You're the boss, Gail. You feeling old or something?"

Gail looked over at the familiar figure of her daughter, wearing a bomb vest, helmet, goggles, and being suited up by someone (Sabrina?) who was checking the fit of it all. "Pretty old, yeah," admitted Gail. She sighed. "Safary knows we're here. She knows we cut off her video and internet."

"Just about to," corrected Sue. "WiFi is down, but we like to hold off on killing cell phones until the last second. There _is_ a land line, if you want to try that..."

"Did you snipe her cell number?"

Sue nodded. "Oh yeah, AV picked that up right away."

Gail exhaled. "Okay. Get Price set up. Have Tactical ready to go in the side. Silent as possible. Make sure there's no silent alarm or tripwires. Get the kid to defuse the bomb. Go in, gentle takedown. No one gets hurt."

"You make it sound so easy," said Sue. She was smiling grimly.

"It's always easy on paper. You run this side. I'm going to be Chloe's backup. If anything changes—"

"I'll make sure you know first."

They looked at each other. They were both women in their mid fifties. They were experienced. They were professionals. They were at the top of their games. This was the work Sue and Gail had been born to do. In Gail's case, raised. There was no need for a hug or a handshake. They just knew.

As Gail turned to go stand with Chloe, she spotted the uniform and nervous face of Lara Volk. Excellent. "Volk, what're you assigned to?"

The girl— the woman (Gail had to stop thinking of them as kids) startled. "Um. Nothing, ma'am. Homicide's backing out."

Hm. Gail looked over and spotted Zettle. "Z, I'm borrowing Volk for my errands."

"Have fun," replied Zettle, not concerned in the slightest, and he went back to coordinating his team's retreat.

They had been flagged 'in case' but also because mustering homicide was a lot faster than Major Crimes. They were used to it, so when Gail needed bodies who could handle a potentially escalating situation, she tapped Zettle and his crew. It bought her time to rapid plan and stage her operation.

Gail turned back to Volk. "Get wired in. You are gonna listen to the Tactical channel and stay here by me. You hear anything I need to know, you tell me."

Unlike Christian, Lara nodded. "Yes, ma'am. High priority only, don't clutter the radio."

Good. Gail smiled, and she knew it was her dangerous smile. It spooked Lara a little. "Gravy. Get a helmet on, too." Confident, Gail walked over to Chloe, Lara scrambling behind her. "You set?"

Chloe held the plexiglass shield up. "This stuff is really light. You sure it's safe?"

"Transparent aluminum," said Gail, at her best deadpan.

Her friend stared at her. Chloe was agape and then giggled. "Oh my god, I am so telling Dov you said that."

"Do and die, Disney Princess." She slapped Chloe's arm. "Go get her."

And she watched.

This was the hard part. Letting the wheels of her plan roll on their own. But Chloe was up to speed on everything. She knew how to talk to people and would be the right choice. Was the right choice. Just like Vivian was the right choice.

Gail turned on her radio to listen to Chloe while watching Sue and her team. Sue was going in with them. That was probably to keel Gail calmer, and she did appreciate it. Chloe asked a quick, quiet, question: was she clear. Thumbs up from Gail was the signal. It was go time.

"Hello in there," said Chloe at her most chipper.

Gail nearly snorted a laugh.

A window opened and a head popped out. "Seriously? This is your idea of a secret raid? Announce it on the Internet?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. It's been kinda messed up." Gail could actually hear Chloe's smile. "So listen. We got a bunch of aliases on you. I could call you Safary, which is a cool name. I think at least. My boss doesn't. She rolls her eyes, but you kinda have to know her. Beneath her grumpy cat exterior, she's the most loyal person out there. She's the boss you'd move mountains for, and I hated her when I met her."

Safary groaned. "Oh my god, do you ever shut up? What the hell is your point?"

"What's your name?"

There was a long pause. Gail saw all the ETF folks freeze. Incredible discipline. They just stopped.

Maybe, mused Gail, maybe if Chloe nattered on enough, their killer would give up just to make the tiny woman shut the hell up. Of course, maybe they'd just try to take Chloe out. It was hard to tell. But that was why Chloe was behind the bullet proof bomb shield just then. Dov would never forgive Gail if she let Chloe get shot, after all.

Thankfully, Safary answered. "What's yours?"

"Chloe. Chloe Price." There was another pause. Where Gail would have waited, Chloe filled the void. "I'm married. I didn't take his name, which was really more practical than anything else. We didn't get married until our s— our child was seven." Chloe sighed dramatically. "Drove our parents crazy."

"I'm shocked," said Safary, drolly. And then. "S-y-n-d-y. Syndy Smith."

Chloe was probably smiled. Gail dared a look. She was. "Oh can I guess? S-M-Y-T-H-E?"

"Okay. That's impressive."

"Well you spell Safari with a Y so it makes sense," bubbled Chloe. "Nice to meet you Syndy. Do people call you Syn? Like a play on sin? My friends would ..."

Safary— Syndy sounded amused now. "Sometimes. Sometimes I do. Not a lot of friends though."

"Well no. No, you blow things up, Syn." Chloe sounded like an exasperated Mom just then. "And you know why we need to bring you in, right?"

"I don't really care for life in jail," huffed the bomber.

ETF moved again. Men and women with rifles checked themselves at the door, while Vivian herself inspected it. Then the newest member gave a thumbs up and they took off the door. They didn't open it, they just unscrewed and dismantled it incredibly quickly. From the outside. Nearly silently.

Huh. That was terrifying.

"Me neither." Chloe sighed loudly. "But you did kill folks. And even if you hadn't, the millions in property damage to civilians and the city? It's a lot."

"Fuck 'em. They deserved it."

They had spent weeks going over the stupid Safari Hunt, figuring out what was wrong with the victims of Safary's bombs. Many of them had been arrested (discretely) or fined or asked for the retribution money back. And Chloe knew all that. "Because they were corrupt? Hullo, you know I work for the city. Some of the people you hurt weren't all bad. The zoo would have hurt a lot of people. Kids."

"Spoken like a soccer mom."

"Theater. My kid's not an athlete."

"Whatever." Syn grunted. "If I give up, you guys lock me away. But if I die here, fuck, I'm a damn martyr. The one the cops couldn't catch."

"Oh. That's not true at all," remarked Chloe, blithely. "We've had this place staked out for a week. And we know your lairs and, if you read the article, we know how to make your bombs. We know everything, Syn. So you die and we explain how we tried to save you, but you cared more about yourself than your movement."

Gail grinned. Well played, Chloe. Safary clearly wanted her mark to last. And the destruction of it, the history written by those who celebrated the victory, would destroy all of that.

Meanwhile, the rifle-armed swept the room from the doorway, but even Gail could see the bomb.

And that was more terrifying, because her daughter took position in front of the bomb and, with bare hands, started to dismantle it. Someone beside Gail hissed how large the bomb was. They were right. It was huge. This was a bomb to self-destruct not just itself but herself. A suicide bomb.

"Ma'am," said the shaky voice of Lara Volk. "ETF says it's all clear, but the bomb is super complex. They need more time."

Gail nodded and gave Lara a thumbs up. And then she looked away, watching Chloe instead. "Chloe, draw this out," she ordered. Then Gail spoke to Lara. "Volk, go to AV and make damn sure they're clear. No remote detonators. No sidekicks."

Verbally confirming her mission, Lara ran off and Gail concentrated on Chloe.

"Damn, you're cold," said Syn. Safary. What a stupid name.

"Parent. I have to be practical, or the kid takes advantage of me."

That won a laugh. "Besides getting the chance to write my history, what's giving up going to do for me?"

Chloe froze.

Gail did not. This was why Chloe had her full attention.

Quickly, Gail tapped her radio. She'd waited for this moment. "Chloe. Offer her a job. Go straight, and don't you fucking laugh at that."

To her credit, Chloe didn't. "Minimal sentence, if you work with us," said the tiny Portuguese woman. "You want to take down corruption? So do we. You want people who are evil to go to jail? So do we!" Chloe waved her hands, gesturing at herself and then Safary. "We're on the same side, Syn."

It was, Gail felt, a good idea to call her Syn. "Good. Good, Chloe," she said softly. "Keep going."

And Chloe did. "I can't get you out of a sentence, but ... have you ever seen _Catch Me If You Can_? DiCaprio and Hanks movie?"

"What?"

"DiCaprio played this guy, a con artist, who got caught and went to prison, but ... see here's the part I like. The FBI hired him as an expert. To help them catch more cons."

Safary stayed in her building, her face visible through the open window, but Gail could see her looking thoughtful. "You want me to help you with bombs?"

"Nah, we've got an expert. A Peckspert."

There was a collective groan across the radio.

Safary looked confused. "Well. You want my black market ties?"

"We want to learn how you find these assholes. You'd be a consultant. Ankle tracker, no access to bomb tech of course, limited internet, but ... it wouldn't be a life behind bars."

The bomber sighed. "You have someone at my door, don't you? Picking my bomb apart?"

Chloe froze.

"Tell her the truth," said Gail calmly.

And Chloe nodded. "Yeah. Yeah we do."

"Alright. If he can defuse that, we'll deal." There was a grim set to Safary's face. "But you stay right there."

Gail blinked. Oh shit.

"Whys that?" Asked Chloe, her voice remarkably calm.

"That bomb goes off, your friends in the vans are fine. But you, you're in my blast radius. Chunks of building should cream you. I don't want to kill people, just expose them, but ... this was my swan song. Owner here short shrifted builders. Cheap materials. This building? This is my bomb. Have fun."

"Chloe, try to keep her yapping." Nervously, Gail flipped her radio to ETF's channel. "Volk, switch to listening to Price." When Lara nodded, Gail turned to watch her daughter defuse a bomb.

She knew it was painstaking work. Gail had seen the hours people put in to do that sort of thing. Jesus, she'd sat on a bomb before and nearly blown out her hearing as well as her ribs. But there was her kid, suited up still and apparently calm as ... Calm as a Peck.

"Negative. She's got the mainline running through the house," said Vivian, following a conversation Gail had missed. "We cut power, the reserve kicks in and we go kablooey."

"Well that sucks. How about shunting the power to Rover?" Sue. That was Sue.

"I think that's just as hard as popping it here." Vivian leaned back and lifted her arms up. Stretching. The kid was stretching. "Okay. If I can disconnect the reserve, then we can kill the power."

"Ground your arc," said a man. Oh, wait, Gail knew him. That was Jules.

"To what? The building would complete the circuit. So would the bomb container." While the worlds scared Gail, Vivian sounded relaxed about it. Thoughtful even. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Oh. So you're gonna..." Jules trailed off. "That works at scale?"

"Theoretically." The slight drawl on the word was pure Holly. It came out of nowhere and Gail felt herself calm down. Of course. Vivian knew her science. She had made her own fireworks and rockets. She'd taken little Jerry to see the space launch. She'd spent hours rewriting the house so Gail could play music anywhere from her phone. Vivian just _got_ this stuff.

"Okay," said Sue. "Peck, you do it. We've got your back. Folks, there's going to be a flash and probably a bit of a bang. EMTs on standby."

Gail heard the copy down the line and flipped her radio back to Chloe. "Price. There's going to be some noise. Some light. Don't squeal."

Harassing Chloe calmed her a little, and Gail hoped it did for the other cop. Because the next big thing to happen was a bright flash, a very loud bang, and a spluttered curse from ETF.

* * *

Taking her daughter's hand, Holly eyed the bandages. "Well you're off the motorcycle for a while."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Mom."

"Yeah? She fine, Jamie?"

The firefighter grinned. "She's grumpy and ornery and on pain killers. She'll be fine."

Holly frowned and studied Vivian's hand. A streak of red peeked out from the edge by her wrist. "I wish you would wear gloves."

"Would if I could, Mom." Vivian shrugged and let Holly inspect her hand without fussing.

"I wish you wouldn't go in with the tactical team," said Gail, grimly. "But Sue was right."

"Chloe was awesome," Vivian offered. "Can I have a beer and something to eat now?"

"Food first." Gail waved at the waiter. "Pizzas. Just cheese."

Jamie looked amused. "She didn't say how many," said the firefighter to the doctor.

"She never does," admitted Holly. "But they'll know how many to bring. Now. Tell me what happened?"

Reluctantly, Vivian explained that the bomb had been hooked into the electrical system of the house. Which meant if she tried to ground it, she had a pretty high chance of blowing everyone up. Completing the circuit or breaking it was supposed to trigger the explosion, implying that Safary had it set up in a light switch. Which even Gail admitted was smart as hell.

Sadly in order to defuse it, Vivian had to safely discharge a battery in a way that would kill the electrical sensor without setting off the main charge. That was only bad because Vivian had to do something with the electrical charge, and in this case it meant taking the shock of her life up her hand. Vivian swore it hadn't been on purpose.

Intentional or not, Vivian had spent a few hours in the ER, having her hand checked out. "Aunt Lisa says there won't be any scarring," insisted Vivian. "It was low voltage, no serious damage to the subcutaneous layer."

"You just had your hand twitching for an hour, that's all." Jamie rolled her eyes and turned to Holly. "It was just moving on its own, like a lizard tail."

"Picturesque." Holly smiled as Gail took her hand.

Predictably, the cop asked, "Did you get a video?"

Of course Jamie did. She cheerfully showed Gail the video of Vivian's fingers twitching of their own volition. Vivian sighed and picked up her drink, clearly not amused.

Holly grinned. "How are you really feeling?"

"Sore and cranky." Vivian eyed her own hand. "That was not something I'd like to repeat though."

"Saved the day, though."

"No, that was Chloe." Vivian smiled. "I did okay though."

Reaching over, Holly cupped Vivian's chin and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for doing your job, sweetheart."

The blush was visible up Vivian's face. "Mom."

"Say 'you're welcome,' Peck." Jamie beamed and Vivian mumbled a 'you're welcome.' "She takes so much looking after, Holly. Does she get that from Gail?"

Holly laughed. "Oh, did you hear about how Gail's car blew up?"

"Okay!" Gail cut in. "No stories about how we all terrify each other by ending up in danger. We've got a detective, an idiot bomb girl, a medical examiner, and a firefighter. Shit happens to us disproportionately."

Vivian snorted a laugh. "God knows. Hey... where is the hero of the night?"

"She went out to dinner with Dov and Chris," said Gail. "And before you ask, I'm going to grease her wheels. This time next year? Inspector Price."

Everyone always thought Gail wasn't caring or sweet or thoughtful. But there, she had probably set Chloe up just to make sure the woman could get that a promotion to take Chloe off the streets. "Whomever will you lean on for UC work?" Holly smiled and caught Gail's hand again, bringing it up to kiss.

"Oh. She has to train her replacement," said Gail firmly. And she smiled at Holly. The soft smile Holly adored. "Probably Fox, come to think of it." Fox wasn't bad, what little Holly knew of the man, and she made a hum of recognition. "Or Zander."

That was a new name. "Why do I feel like I should know him."

"Alexander Duquaine. Ollie wanted me to TO him if I'd stayed uniformed. He's our fabulously gay undercover hero." Gail took a long swing of her beer. "Ah! Pizza!"

Three pizzas were put on the table and, as one, Vivian and Gail dove for them. "Gail, I thought you were allergic to tomatoes," said a confused Jamie.

"Raw ones. Well cooked and processed are fine." And Gail inhaled half a slice. "So. Good. Holly never lets me have this anymore."

Holly poked Gail and took a slice. "I know, I'm a bitch."

"You're my bitch." Gail grinned.

Doubtful, Jamie picked up her own slice. "Three is a lot. I mean... I've seen Gail eat, but..."

No sooner did Jamie express her concerns, then did the horde of cops descend on the table. Christian and Lara gave Vivian shit and stole slices. Sue harassed Gail for being nervous. Most of ETF had some pizza before they ran out and two more arrived. All in all, they burned through eight pizzas in the two hours they entertained.

It was interesting to see how everyone treated Vivian after this kind of case. Holly had seen them tease Gail for two decades. The core group, Gail's classmates, freely poked fun at her and called her names like Casper and Ice Queen. But they did it with so much love and affection, it was impossible to mistake. And of course Oliver smothered Gail with adoration.

The jokes were different now than they were fifteen, ten, or even five years ago. Some faces had changed, some were gone forever, some were rare. The humor had changed too. It wasn't tempered as much as some might thing, it was still a little raunchy and far from politically correct at all times, but it was family.

Wasn't that the ultimate difference between Holly's friends and Gail's? Holly considered Lisa and Rachel to be like family. But Gail, who really had no proper family, saw them _as_ family. No one could blame her. Gail found something she'd needed, but also these were people who put their lives on the line for each other.

Looking around, Holly saw familiar faces from the lab as well. That was her own fault. She'd dragged Rodney out one night after he'd broken a case and saved Dov's career. After that, whenever cases involving Fifteen and her lab were solved, she made the lab rats come out to play. Now it was common everywhere.

Still, people like Jamie, firefighters and EMTs, were rare. Vivian had been known to go to their bars, but always as an adjunct to Jamie and never as a part of a case that covered both groups. Some things were just never done, and were unlikely to change.

Her phone buzzing startled her. Holly eyed the number. Why was John calling her? Something had to be important. Holly sighed and excused herself, Vivian nodding understandingly, and went outside.

"This is Dr. Stewart," she said into the cool evening air, with no small amount of trepidation.

"So formal," said John, laughing.

"Oh thank god." Holly felt a weight lift off her. "I was sure you were calling to tell me there was another fucking link in this case!"

Her coworker, her wife's work husband, and her friend laughed more. "I just left interrogation with Marcel. We got 'em."

"What!?"

"The last guy we arrested rolled over. We're going to do a four Territory arrest in conjunction with the FBI up in Alaska."

Holly could have flown. "How the hell ... who did you arrest?"

"You'll laugh. It's the accountant."

Holly did laugh. Gail always said that the people who did the paperwork were the week link. With few exceptions (Red from Three Rivers came to mind) were they never hardened criminals. "Oh my god. He gave it all up?"

"Sure looks like. I figured you'd want to hear it from me right away."

That was true as well. "I do. Did. I appreciate this, John."

"Hey, we're a team. I need to go argue with a lawyer now, but it looks like we got it. Everything is looks alright."

Agreeing, Holly hung up and smiled. Everything was really looking alright for a change. She told Gail that when she got back inside and her wife just grinned.

"Of course it is," said Gail, matter-of-factly. "You're awesome and brilliant. No one can stand up to the power of your science."

Yeah. Things were alright.

* * *

She lay back on the couch, wincing as her hand brushed the arm of the sofa. "This sucks," announced Vivian.

Jamie snorted and carried over a beer and a bowl of popcorn. "You're not going to loose the nail. Stop being a baby."

Vivian flipped off Jamie and reached out with her other hand for the drink. "It stings!"

"You electrocuted your hand! Of course it stings."

"I just don't want to lose my nail."

The jolt had nearly made her fuck up defusing the bomb too, not that she would tell her mothers that. She'd told Jamie while they sat in the ER waiting for her hand to be treated. Her girlfriend, used to dangerous injuries, had sighed, nodded, and held her other hand the entire time.

Right now, her girlfriend sat on the coffee table, smiling. "You wont." She took Vivian's bandaged hand, carefully, and kissed the outside of it. "You sure you're not exhausted?"

Vivian shook her head. "Adrenaline rush does weird shit to me. I'll be up for hours."

"You should have taken the pain killers."

"Narcotics?" Unlike her mother, Vivian had no problems on painkillers or sleeping pills. "Okay, truth? Opiates give me constipation. Right away. Hate it."

Jamie laughed and shook her head. "How about the sleeping pills?"

"Oh believe me, I'm in there. I've got some non-opioids and a knock out. That's after the shower. But I kinda want my brain to calm down first."

Her girlfriend smiled. "Oh yeah, I get that. Well, games are out. Netflix and chill?"

Vivian leered a little and Jamie smacked her good arm. "Ow! You suck, McGann."

"What the hell am I going to do with you, Peck?" But Jamie was grinning ear to ear. "You're just a pain."

Tasting the popcorn, Vivian thought about it. "You could feed me popcorn?"

"You can eat it with one hand." Jamie dropped onto the couch. "I could take advantage of you though."

"I like this plan."

"We can watch that political drama."

Vivian's face fell. "You are not seriously suggesting we watch that stupid show about the US president who killed the senator, are you?" It was the kind of show Holly liked, filled with intrigue and sex and stupidity. Gail and Vivian found the show idiotic.

"Your phone is in the bedroom." Jamie grinned and held her own up. "I can pick whatever show I want!"

Vivian scowled. Her watch was on her hurt wrist, though. She tapped it with her good hand and turned the lights down. "You wanna play it that way, baby? Cause I'm a tech goddess."

Her girlfriend rolled her eyes. "You're a tech brat. Okay, fine. How about something light and fun?"

" _Hunt For Red October_?"

"You are so weird, Vivian," said Jamie, bursting out laughing. "How is that light and fun?"

Jutting out her lower lip, Vivian pointed out the practicality. "Suspense, mystery, drama, no love interests, and it has an awesome cast."

"It's a sausage fest! _Oceans 8_. Suspense, caper flick, and all women."

"Eh, what about the one about the Mars landing?"

"Oh god, no. No way. Matt Damon!?"

"Ew!" Shook her head. "The other one! The colony one."

" _Last Daughter of Mars_? Eh, it has a love interest."

"Yeah, but it's a queer one."

Jamie laughed again. "So a love interest is only okay if it's gay?"

"Duh," said Vivian in her best Gail voice, and Jamie laughed more.

"So deep, so thoughtful, so simple. Okay, fine. Something queer and easy to watch." Jamie tapped on her phone and scrolled through the videos, getting comfortable on her end of the couch.

It felt wrong.

Hesitating, Vivian turned. "Would you… come here?"

Jamie blinked and sat up straight. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I just… Um. I want to sit with you?"

The firefighter looked at her for a moment that felt like an eternity. Like Jamie was weighing every single past conversation they'd ever had. Like maybe Jamie was wondering if the request came from the painkillers or something else. Then she got up from the couch and walked to the other end. "Yeah," she said softly, a smile Vivian wasn't sure how to read on her face.

Vivian swallowed and held up her good hand. It took a little shuffling, but Jamie sat beside her on the couch, Vivian's injured hand elevated by her arm around Jamie's shoulders. Close. "This… Um. Is this okay?"

Jamie nodded and tucked her legs up, leaning into Vivian and settling the popcorn between them. "Yeah. You good?"

"Yeah. I think I am," she said, with no small surprise.

Her girlfriend picked her phone back up and tapped it, bringing the TV to life. "Tell me if you change your mind. Okay?"

"I will." And Vivian smiled as the TV pulled up the new Batwoman series, which Holly promised had a happy lesbian ending. At least for the season that had aired.

Vivian knew, in her heart, that she wasn't going to change her mind. As they sat still and quiet, Jamie's warmth along side her, the pain from her hand throbbing only lightly, Vivian felt comfortable. At peace.

Much like the times she'd fallen asleep on Gail's lap, this was a moment of calming physical contact. This was safe and warm and protective. Even if she was the pillow, she felt like Jamie was a shield between everything and them. They were just two, but they were safe.

Vivian felt like, for the first time without her mothers, she really was alright.

"Okay," said Jamie. "But I'm not feeding you popcorn."

Yeah. Things were alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has progress in their own ways.
> 
> Thus ends Safary. Not everyone wants to shoot it out. She'll be a nice CI for the police. After she serves her time.
> 
> BIG NOTE: There will be no new chapter in December. Instead I'm doing a one-off reward for that other thing. After, I'm taking a winter break and posting the five-chapter SEQUEL to Ashes to Ashes. Then we'll be back here on MAY 8 2017. Follow my Tumblr for random posts and details. I'm auntchappy.tumblr.com and there's a link to details about my other stories.


	35. 04.01 - Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Season Four begins with a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, John is finally getting married.

The cough from the bathroom startled Vivian awake. "Hey," she said as she yawned, rolling over to look at her girlfriend. Jamie was toweling her hair dry, coughing a little, in the en suite bathroom.

"Hey, didn't mean to wake you," Jamie said, her voice rough.

Well now Vivian was awake. Also why was Jamie home already? Her shift had her back home the day after tomorrow. That meant if Jamie was home early and coughing, something had happened. Vivian sat up and turned on a light. "You okay?"

Jamie nodded. "Yeah, annoyingly so, said the doctor. Caught a lung full of a chemical fire."

"Uh huh," Vivian stretched across the bed, reached for Jamie's phone, and pulled up her health care app. "You know, I don't mean to be all this way, but who's your emergency contact?"

"Uh... My Dad." Jamie sounded sheepish. "Are you reading my test results?"

"I am. My mom's a doctor, you know."

"Oh and that gives you the right to snoop?"

"Peck," said Vivian by way of explanation. The test results were, thankfully, not horrible. Jamie had inhaled no worse than Vivian had when ETF threw in smoke. "Did you use the nebulizer?"

"No, I wanted a shower." When Vivian glared, Jamie sighed and went back into the bathroom. "You are such a helicopter girlfriend when I'm hurt."

Vivian paused and put the phone back down to charge. "I'm ... Yes. Yes I am." There was no point or purpose in denying it. But she knew why... Vivian took a deep breath. "I worry about you. And if I'm shit at saying what's on my mind, you're crap at telling people you're hurting."

Her girlfriend shook the nebulizer. "Fair." Taking a deep breath of the puffy stuff, Jamie made a face. It probably tasted like shit, if it was the same kind Vivian had used a couple years back. Finally she exhaled loudly. "Ugh, nasty."

Hugging her knees, Vivian waited a bit. "So... what happened?"

"Angry kids broke into school. Accidental lab fire. Blah blah blah. Me and Mike were up front. Stuff burnt through our masks." Jamie hung up her towel. "And I think I just lost all the argument points from when you were shot, huh?"

"More or less," said Vivian, but she felt a little lighter.

With a sigh, Jamie sat on the end of the bed. "Okay, so it burned like the time I laughed hot sauce out my nose. And I was a little freaked, but I wasn't scared... and I don't like talking about being hurt."

That had the feel of a late night confession. Vivian scooted closer and hesitated. "You don't have to ... You don't have to talk about it right now."

Jamie shook her head. "Oh no, no, I sat there a couple years ago." She pointed at Vivian, mirthlessly. "When I was five, Dad got arrested. Traffic violation. Totally stupid, but they came to the apartment. And I had six stitches at the time, and I guess the cop decided Dad did it and they arrested him." Jamie sighed. "We had social services come by a lot after that. And ... I was a tomboy. I _always_ had scrapes and bruises, and after a while, I just didn't tell anyone because some idiot always thought Dad was hurting me. And he never, ever, has. Not once."

Vivian scooted to the end of the bed and took Jamie's hand. "I'm sorry."

The firefighter leaned into her a little. "For what it's worth, my folks kinda freaked out when I said I was dating a cop."

Smiling, Vivian rested her cheek on Jamie's head. "Yeah? What about when you told 'em my name?"

Jamie snorted a laugh. "Oh my god. I thought Mom's head would pop. I got an earful after."

"You never said."

"Well, Dad took my side." Jamie squeezed Vivian's hand. "You've been really good about me getting in your head."

"My therapist gave me shit," admitted Vivian. "I'm trying."

"I should try too."

Ah. Vivian closed her eyes and inhaled. She could smell their shampoo and soap. But under that was the oddly appealing scent of Jamie. There was something earthy, but not dirty, about her. The smell of autumn. The smell of the end of summer, when the green grass was fading, but there was still warmth and comfort. It reminded her of lazy days at the lake.

"So," Vivian said slowly. "My birthday's coming up."

"I have to make it through another Christmas with your family first," joked Jamie.

"I promise no sleepover. We'll take your truck."

Jamie made a content noise and then coughed. "Good." She struggled and then coughed again, louder, until she had to sit up straight. Then Jamie coughed again, and gagged. She bolted to the bathroom and coughed up what sounded like a bucket of phlegm. "Oh that is disgusting."

"I'll take your word on it," said Vivian, stifling a laugh. She fell back onto the bed, landing on her elbows. "I can make you a soothing hot drink?"

There was the sound of gargling and then Jamie spat. "No. No booze until tomorrow."

"Fair." Vivian watched the other woman wipe her face. "Can I do anything?"

Jamie shook her head. "No. I just wanna sleep."

"I can provide, fair maiden, a warm bed."

Her girlfriend paused and then chuckled. "Nerd."

"Oh really? Who filled up her ereader?"

Smiling, Jamie got under the covers and nestled down. "Who built an electrolysis tank?"

Vivian huffed and turned off the light. "Gail loved it. I am the greatest daughter ever."

"You're okay." Jamie yawned. "What do you want for your birthday?"

"A long weekend at the cottage."

There was silence.

Was that too much? They were living together. They'd not said the dreaded three words, but ... no. No, it couldn't be too much. They'd already done the cottage once. This had to be something else.

"You are the cheapest date ever, Peck," muttered Jamie.

"I'm inexpensive, but I'm not cheap," countered Vivian, and Jamie laughed again. "Go to sleep, hose monkey."

"Yeah, yeah, bossy." Jamie wriggled over, kissed Vivian's cheek, and then rolled over to her favorite sleeping position.

With a yawn, so did Vivian, and she was asleep before the familiar snores of her girlfriend rumbled through the night.

* * *

There was a feeling of abruptness, that moment when the confusing story in a dream suddenly converted itself into the determined solidity of awareness.

First Holly was running through a field, laughing as the zombie clown chased her. The clown was laughing too, and Holly knew intellectually that she should be scared. Instead, she found it incredibly amusing. But then the sunny field turned purple and black, and the grass became jagged rocks and a cliff. No, this was not a good dream.

Waking herself up from a dream was not always a sure thing. Over the years, though, Holly had learned tricks to kick herself. She repeated her mantra. This was a dream. This was a dream. And then, finally, there was the snap and she was no longer asleep.

Holly opened her eyes and exhaled loudly. Ugh. "That was a shitty dream," she muttered.

Silence.

Odd. Gail usually at least grumbled, even in her sleep.

Stretching, Holly rolled over and frowned. The other side of the bed was blurry, since she wasn't wearing glasses, but it was also empty of a certain blonde.

"Gail?" Holly reached over to touch her wife's half of the bed and found it cold. Rolling further, she reached for the nightstand. Gail's phone was gone, but her tablet was there.

As she pulled on her glasses, Holly reminded herself it was Friday. They had a day off to help prep for John's wedding. Gail had left Pedro Nuñez and Lucinda Trujillo in charge, her rookies, in order to train them. Secretly, though, she had all her own old guard keeping tabs, including Mayhew, but Gail's idea was to see how well they did.

Holly had, instead, dumped most of her work on Rodney. It was a parting gift, she felt, since in six months he'd be the chief medical examiner for the territory, and she would just be for Toronto. Privately (and to Gail) Holly suspected she was the last person who would ever try to tackle both roles at once. It was just too much work.

A day off and, at four in the morning, no Gail in bed. That was not a good sign. Holly got out of bed and pulled on her robe. Whatever had driven her out of bed, Gail had still hung Holly's robe up over the heating vent, like Gail did every winter morning she was up first. That was life with Gail, though. For a woman who had trouble saying the words 'I love you,' Gail showed it every chance she could. Telling Holly to lock a door. Carrying a sleepy child to bed. Driving her mother to her doctor's appointment.

And Holly knew what those moments meant.

She opened the bedroom door and glanced down the hall. The office door was half open and the lights were off. But Vivian's room... the door was open and there was some light. Probably from the outside. Vivian had liked that when they'd toured the house before signing papers. The six year old had been shown the room, told it would be hers, and she immediately decided that extra light was good.

They had, at that point, already discovered her fear of the dark. When had that gone away? It had to be when she was ten or twelve. One day, Holly remembered checking on her daughter and found the room nearly pitch black, lit only by the street.

That was how it was lit that morning. Only now it was a blonde adult sitting in the window seat.

"Hey," said Holly, leaning on the door frame.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Gail turned and straightened up a little.

"Hmm. No, evil clowns. You?"

"Ghosts of Christmas Past." The blonde got up and walked over, hesitating in front of Holly.

Twenty years and it was still endearing, the shyness. Holly smiled and held out one hand. In an instant, Gail was in her arms. As it should be. "Wedding anxiety?"

Gail mumbled a yes against Holly's shoulder. "And I can't let it show tomorrow," she added, introspectively. "John's gotta be calm, and he'll probably have Bethany hanging off his neck all day."

Holly ran her fingers through the back of Gail's hair. It calmed both of them. Pasts always came back to haunt. She didn't have anyone as serious as Gail before, though, realized Holly with a start. Oh she had lovers, and even attempts at cohabitation, but.. Jesus, Vivian had more success than Holly had at that front. Holly just sucked with relationships. "Would you have married Nick?" She asked the question without really thinking.

"Hmm. Yes," said Gail, thoughtfully. "If Mom hadn't stopped us, I would have because that's what you do. You marry the nice boy."

"I thought he was a bad boy."

"Swear to god, the minute we got engaged, he was the nice boy."

Holly made a face. "Am I the nice girl?"

"Yes." This reply was immediate. "The nice girl who picks up broken, mean girls and pets them and tames them."

She couldn't help it, Holly snorted a laugh. "You're not tame. You just know why you're fucked up now."

Gail laughed and let go. "Am I a nice girl, Dr. Stewart?"

Smiling, Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Yes. A nice girl with a dark sense of humor, and the biggest heart I've ever known."

The smile on Gail's face was the heart stopping shy one. The gentle and warm, abashed, smile. "Well hell," muttered Gail. "You know how to make a feel special."

"You know... I was thinking how shitty I was at that with everyone else," admitted Holly. "All the other women —"

Gail interrupted her. "Losers."

"Yes." She laughed. "All the other losers I dated never felt special. They never made me feel special."

"They never imploded your career either."

"Your mother did that and, given how the last twenty odd years have gone, I'm ready to forgive her." Holly smiled and shook her head. "I'd do that to Jamie, you know."

To her surprise, Gail shook her head seriously. "I wouldn't. I was sitting here, thinking about our kid... wondering." Gail turned and gestured.

The room was empty of everything but furniture. Vivian had collected all her books and toys and knicknacks. Except the Star Wars toys. Those and the LEGOs stayed in the closet, ostensibly for future generations, but also because Vivian admitted she worried any potential dates would find it childish.

Holly didn't mind. Her parents had kept her toys in a box for no reason other than they loved her. She could easily do the same. That's what a mother did. A parent. They held on to the kid, they held on to the child, they held on to the memory for them. And in return the kid carried their memory forward.

When Gail didn't continue, Holly asked, "Wondering what?"

Her wife exhaled. "We eloped. Because I'm so fucked up from my family, I can't deal with the idea of being up in front of people, on display. I can't ... I hate weddings because they're so, so fake. I hate a lot of things."

"You don't hate me."

Gail smiled a little. "No. No I don't. But I wonder... All those things are what I was and what I am, and I'm better now, but I'm still all that. And what if I gave that to our kid?"

Ah. Doubt. It always crept back in. Twenty, thirty, forty years, it would always come back to that. "You— we gave her the other stuff too. I mean, look at her. She's living with her girlfriend. Way sooner than we did."

"Hey! I lived when Chris when I was younger!"

"How'd that work out?"

Gail stuck her tongue out. "Fine, until Dov got high on painkillers, confessed his undying love for me and our pale, pale, children, and then told Chris."

Holly smiled. "You and Dov would've had some _impressively_ white children."

And Gail looked amused. "Okay, how come you get all jelly when people hit on me, and yet Dov..."

"He told me he loved you, silly." Holly cupped Gail's face with one hand, rubbing her thumb across her wife's cheek, and grinning at Gail's shocked expression. "Remember when you stopped a radio with your face?"

"Ugh. How could I forget?"

"When you fell asleep on me, on the couch, Dov told me."

Gail scrunched up her face adorably. "When you spent the night?"

" _Why_ I spent the night." Holly kissed Gail softly. "You're someone worth loving. And you give that away to everyone, all the time, and you don't even know how not to." She kissed her again. "And you give that to me and to Viv."

Silent, Gail exhaled and leaned into Holly. "Is that why I always feel so empty?"

Holly nodded. "Mom always said... A fountain keeps nothing for itself."

Gail sighed deeply, from the depths of her heart. But she nodded and didn't argue. The woman was always giving, expecting nothing because for the first part of her life, she received nothing. And she still did it.

Holly sighed as well, resting her forehead against Gail's.

"That's probably why we work so well together," said Gail quietly. "You're the same way. You would give everything for others, just to make the world better."

She would. It was true. "So what are you really wondering about, Gail?" Holly's voice was a whisper.

But Gail shook her head. "Can we go back to bed?"

Holly would rather talk, but she wasn't going to push her wife just then. "Yeah." Rubbing her hands on Gail's upper arms, she smiled. "Lets go back to bed."

* * *

Five hours until the biggest moment of John's life, and Gail was highly entertained watching him panic. "This is a huge mistake," he said, covering his face in his hands.

He'd been saying that for a while.

The other groomsmen looked worried and Gail sucked on her straw, downing the somewhat disgusting smoothie Celery had recommended. In her opinion, was alright for John to rant here. Gail, who had eloped, didn't really have a solid point of view for the matter. Her first engagement, to Nick, had been a disaster from start to finish.

How had that happened anyway? Gail had, offhandedly, told various people about it over the years, even Holly, but she'd never really dwelled on the disaster. To this day, Nick still argued it wasn't real since it was in Las Vegas. He was really lucky she didn't nut punch him over that. It was, it had been, real to her. It had been a real ring and a real promise.

And then her mother had chased off Nick, though. Planting the idea in his dim little head that it wasn't real, that it didn't matter. That none of it mattered. He could just go.

Year and years later, Elaine had apologized. It had been some time before Bill died, at one of Gail and Holly's anniversary parties at home. A small one. Holly and Vivian had dozed off on the couch and Elaine had quietly beseeched her daughter for a moment.

The apology started as a confession. Yes, Elaine had done exactly what Gail suspected. She had told Nick it was a foolish idea, suggested the army, and that was all it took. But she'd done it because she knew Gail didn't want to marry the idiot. Which was true. And there was no way Bill would let her out of it. Also true.

Gail was, Elaine thought, better than a marriage to a simple man who needed the uniform. Funny how Elaine spotted that in Nick years ago. But she knew Gail could be so much more. Hate the name Peck all she wanted, Gail had gifts and talents and they would have been wasted on Nick.

And above all... Elaine knew Nick didn't matter.

Not like Holly did.

"She matters to you," said Gail softly, repeating her mother's words.

John froze and stared at her. "What?"

"You think of her all the time. And that's your problem. You always thought that because you never said goodbye to Bethany that you never stopped loving her. But now... now you know that you will always love her. Forever. And now you worry that you won't be able to give Janet everything because of that."

Her friend and partner exhaled deeply. "Jesus. Yeah."

Gail nodded, walked over, and cuffed John in the back of the head. Hard. "Moron. Janet knows. She loves you _because_ of that, you shit head. Not in spite of."

"Ow!"

"The only mistake is you backing out. Now put on your pants and let's go."

John looked down. He was still in his jeans. "No offense, Gail..."

"Yeah, I don't do the boys and you know that." But she rolled her eyes and stepped out, smirking.

It was probably for the best that she'd eloped, now that Gail thought about the whole thing. The patience it took for a show like a wedding was beyond her. Maybe Vivian would be fine with something like that, Holly would have, but. But. Holly knew Gail. And Holly loved Gail, which meant the mental stability of Gail was just as important as anything else.

And Gail hated marriage.

Weddings.

It was a technicality.

Gail sighed and tapped her watch, sending a heart to Holly.

Her wife replied with a full blown text.

_If John is half as neurotic as Janet, god help you._

Gail grinned. Yeah. She looked down the hall and was surprised to see her wife, scowling and tapping on her phone. Holly was fully dressed, her hair was back, her makeup was on. So were her contacts, sadly, but it was Janet's wedding, not Gail's. "Hey, Dr. Sexy."

Holly jumped. "Gail! Why aren't you dressed!"

"I will be. Boy stuff is super easy to get into." Gail tossed her smoothie remains and ambled down the hall. "I told him to elope."

Rolling her eyes, Holly tucked her phone away into a fold of her sari. "If you screw up my outfit, I'll sic Janet's mom on you."

Tacit approval for hugs was given. Gail carefully set her hands on Holly's waist and tugged her close. "Wouldn't dare. On pain of pissing off Herr Peck."

Holly rolled her eyes and kissed Gail softly. "She's trying to convince herself he's only doing this so she'll think he loves her more than Bethany."

"Oh Jesus." Gail grimaced and put her head on Holly's shoulder. "I'm going to tell Viv to elope. Is that okay?"

"Oh. No." Holly's voice was soft and wistful. "She'd look so nice in a suit—"

"They'd both wear suits. I mean come on, Jamie in a dress?"

Holly snorted a laugh. "Their uniforms. They could do that. And then we can run off and hide until they get us grandbabies on their honeymoon."

"Pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Hey. Who's the doctor here? Hmm?" Holly laughed again and kissed Gail's forehead before shoving her away lightly. "Go get dressed. I want to see you all sleek and sexy."

Gail sighed dramatically. "There aren't any coat closets. It's December."

"They're using the spare room down the hall for coats. However..." Holly glanced down the hall. "Vivian was setting up a video game system for the kids."

"Kids meaning her," grumbled Gail.

"I saw Mario Kart, so probably you too." Slapping Gail's butt, Holly ushered her off. "Go change."

"We can't make out if there are kids in there," shouted Gail as she went back to the groom's rooms.

"I'll make out with you anywhere, Peck!" Holly laughed and went back to her own suite.

Muttering about promises, Gail knocked on the door. "John, are your pants on?"

One of the other groomsmen opened the door. Cody. He'd been John's partner for five years before Gail, before major crimes. "Seriously? You ain't seen him in his shorts before?"

"Seriously, Cody? Ain't?" Gail snorted and walked in. "Lesbian. Don't wanna see my minion's grey tighty whities."

"It's a thong, same as you," replied John. "Changing room is all yours."

Gail flipped him off. "Done having your freakout?"

"More or less."

Cody spoke up. "I threatened him."

She listened to the men tease each other and harass them about their spouses and partners. For a change, it was nice to hear they all loved their other halves. Gail distinctly remembered a time when it was en vogue to bash on ones spouse. She never understood that concept.

There was a woman, a beautiful, brilliant, kind, caring, wonderful woman who reached out and picked up a broken, screwed up cop and loved her. There was a woman who fixed Gail's hair and heart and soul. There was a woman who touched her soul, made her laugh, made her care again.

Why would anyone insult someone who was all of those things, and more, to them?

Maybe they'd just all married the wrong people.

Well. Today was a day to make sure John married the right person. Everything else could wait.

* * *

"Names?"

"Vivian Peck. And plus one." She smirked as she said it. It was impossible not to, if she was her mothers' daughter.

"Nerd," muttered Jamie. "Jamie McGann, the plus one."

The man checking their names nodded. "Groom's colors. Left side when you walk in."

Jamie took Vivian's hand as they walked to the brightly colored room. "How come Holly's on the bride's side?"

"Apparently Janet's bridesmaids can't dance." Vivian shrugged and spotted a couple cops she recognized. Both retired. "And John hasn't got any proper family left, so we have to fill his side out."

"Hey, I'm just here for the food." Jamie grinned. "A professional cook's wedding has gotta be aces."

Vivian laughed. "This is why Gail likes you. You appreciate good food."

"I'd leave you for your mom's cooking," Jamie said, mock-seriously.

Vivian just rolled her eyes. They found empty seats and settled in. "You're a pain in my ass, Jamie."

Her girlfriend grinned and kissed Vivian softly. "I try."

"Oh god," said a too familiar voice behind them. "Bad enough I sat behind your mothers at McIdiot's wedding. Now this?"

"Hi, Frankie," said Vivian, turning to smile at the woman. She and John had, at one point, worked in the same department. Of course she knew him, and not just through Gail.

Jamie looked confused. "Does John have _any_ straight friends?"

Affronted, Frankie pointed at Jamie. "How does she know?"

It took Vivian a moment to figure out what she was being accused of. "Mac, probably." When Frankie looked bewildered, Vivian gestured at her girlfriend. "Firefighter. EMT. Women? They probably share a dorm section."

"Dorm... section- wait, _this_ is your firefighter girlfriend?" Frankie perked up. "I saw you at a fire."

"Most people do," replied Jamie, holding out a hand. "And actually you just ping the hell out of my gaydar. Jamie McGann."

"Frankie Anderson." She shook Jamie's hand and then backhanded Vivian's arm. "You don't tell her everything?"

Vivian rubbed her shoulder. "About you? God, why would I?"

"Hey, at least you're still dating." Frankie shrugged. "I figured you woulda imploded like your moms at least once."

"Charming," said Jamie, dryly. "Are all old ladies like this?"

Again, Frankie was affronted. "Old!?"

With a smirk, Jamie nodded. "Sure, if you're dating Mac. I mean, she's the momma bear of the station, so you've gotta be at least, what, Gail's age?"

"I like her," announced Rachel, taking a seat on Vivian's other side. "Hi, kid."

"Hi, Aunt Rachel." Vivian smiled and allowed her mother's best friend to hug her. "Becky skipped out?"

"Oh please, no. Becky is studying for midterms. She wants to go abroad next semester." Then she flicked a glance at Jamie, inquiringly.

Vivian gestured to Jamie. "Jamie, this is Holly's bestie from college, Rachel. Her kid is Rebecca, Becky. Rach, you know Frankie."

Rachel grinned. "I do. You flying single again, Frankie?"

"My girlfriend is late." The way Frankie said the word, it was clearly still novel.

"Oh wow. Good thing Lisa's not coming."

Jamie elbowed Vivian. "Tl;dr version?"

"Frankie and Aunt Lisa used to date. Rachel and BT and Holly went to school together. Frankie hit on both my moms. Rachel and John were dating when I met them. Uh... Oh, and none of them have dated Mac except Frankie."

"Oddly specific," muttered Rachel.

"Do you have to tell everyone I dated Lisa?" Frankie complained.

"Why is she "BT" and not Lisa?" Jamie looked more perplexed.

"Stands for Bitch Tits." Rachel looked chagrined and amused. "The misadventures of Dr. Bitch Tits, Plastic Surgeon to Canada's rich and famous, are a beauty to behold. Stick around, you'll find out."

The way Rachel said to stick around sounded ominous, but when Vivian dared look at her girlfriend, she startled. Jamie was grinning. The firefighter took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "This crazy ass family gets more fun every time I meet someone."

"You say that now," said Frankie, darkly. "Wait'll you meet Lisa."

* * *

The dancing was over. The vows were exchanged. Someone in the crowd shouted a mazel tov. And finally Holly's work was done. Her first and probably only turn as a bridesmaid had ended with nothing more embarrassing than Kashvi's slip and fall near the end. And, Holly had to admit, the dancing was fun. Especially when Gail hooted and cheered. Because Gail.

But now Gail had fetched them drinks and they found a couch to sit on and imbibe. Well. Eat. Gail had loaded a plate with some incredibly amazing food, insisting that Holly stock up on carbs and protein and that weird cheese thing that Gail thought was tofu at first.

"This," said Gail with a happy sigh. "This is good."

"Your one true love is food," joked Holly.

"I mean it! Free booze, good food, hot wife. What else do I need?"

Holly glanced over at the dance floor, where an incredibly awkward Vivian was being led by a happy and tolerant Jamie. "Public embarrassment of children?" She pointed and Gail followed the direction.

"Oh my god." Gail burst out in a giggle. "How the fuck can our child not dance?"

"I heard she was adopted," Holly said in her best deadpan. That just made Gail laugh harder, though. Holly beamed and leaned into Gail, looping the pale arm through her own and hugging it close. "So, this wasn't so bad."

"As far as weddings go, no," agreed Gail. She smiled and squeezed Holly's arm. "Only one more I ever want to go to, though."

That was a comment Gail had made before. There were three weddings she wanted to go to. Oliver's, John's, and Vivian's.

Holly hummed and looked at her daughter again. The song was now a slow one, and Jamie had clearly resorted to the hug method of dancing. Taller Vivian had Jamie's head tucked up under her chin, arms wrapped around her, and they were swaying. Holly couldn't see Jamie's face, or much of Vivian's for that matter, but there was a shy smile on the young officer's face.

Happy.

So that was what content and happy looked like on Vivian. Holly had often wondered if Vivian's self restraint would keep her from being really happy. Even asleep as a child, she'd seemed to be holding things back. There was always a reason for Vivian to be doubtful and withdrawn. Letting herself surrender to ... well to pleasure was a thing Vivian did poorly.

And the firefighter seemed to do well drawing Vivian out and into a place where there were more smiles.

Much like Holly did with Gail. It was never the taming of the shrew, as some half-wit at the Penny said once (Donovan Boyd? Someone McNally had hated). No, there was no taming. There was simply seeing there had to be more behind that little wall, that shield people who were constantly hurt used to protect themselves, and there was nothing more than caring for them. Holly had seen, in that first moment with Gail in the woods one rainy day, a beautiful woman with a dark sense of humor and a no-nonsense attitude.

What had Jamie seen? As Vivian told it, they'd met at the park, running, while Vivian was helping Lara train for the departmental 5K. Jamie had teased them, then again at a club a few weeks later, and finally slipped Vivian digits at a crime scene. But what was it that made her approach the taciturn officer? Vivian was not approachable to most people.

"What's Vivian's nickname at the station? The bad one."

"Ice Princess." Gail put her head against Holly's. "They look happy."

"I think they are." She paused a long time. "God it's annoying, isn't it?"

Gail rumbled a low laugh. "Everyone's so happy. Smiling."

"But they're not fake."

"No, no they're not."

Holly smiled and closed her eyes. "How long do we have to stay?"

"Until the newlyweds ditch," said Gail softly.

"So. The dessert? Damn. That's like two more hours!"

"Oh, Stewart. How long've we been married?" The bright laughter bubbled up again. "Have you seen the dessert? Oh my god, I'll leave you before I skip that gloriously sinful Bita baked delectable."

Yes. Well. Gail would never leave before dessert. Holly grinned and couldn't help it. She laughed too.

"Why are they laughing?" Jamie's amused voice cut in.

Predictably, Vivian explained. "They hate weddings. Too many fake happy people."

To Holly's surprise, this seemed to make sense to Jamie. "Oh, sure. I get that."

Holly looked up and saw the two girls holding hands. "Jamie, how many people have asked you two how serious you are?"

That made Jamie startle. "You're asking me?"

"Vivian," said Gail firmly, "would lie."

Jamie eyed Vivian who just shrugged in her self-contained way. "Six little old ladies and some guy named Cody."

"John's partner, before me," explained Gail. "Figures. Cody's a misogynist."

"He used to be worse." Holly distinctly remembered his worse. "He got really dicky when I turned him down."

Gail started. "What? When was that!?"

"Before I met you, honey," Holly soothed and kissed Gail's cheek. "John thought it was amusing."

"How can you tell?" Jamie huffed. "He's as bad as Viv for the whole keeping things inside."

Vivian looked a little stricken. "I'm sorry."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, you are such a cat, Vivian."

Both Holly and Gail froze. "Monkey child," said Gail slowly. "Did you tell her?"

"No," said Vivian, blushing. "She called me that after I asked her if she ever actually rescued a cat up a tree."

"And have you, Hose Monkey?"

There was an exasperated sigh from the firefighter. "Why do I let her get away with it?" She gestured at Gail.

"We all ask ourselves that, Jamie." Holly squeezed the arm again. "She's insulting, annoying, infuriating... She mocks everything and she loathes everyone. Gail is rude and plays pranks on people all the time, including me." She paused and studied Gail's indignant expression. "And she is the sweetest, more caring person I've ever met. And I love all those things about her."

The look on Gail's face faded into endearing and abashed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Holly leaned in, meeting Gail partway and finding those soft lips. "I do."

"Ugh, you're worse than FrankenMac," muttered Vivian. "They've been sucking face all day."

"Nice portmanteau, kid. McNally come up with one for you two?" Gail grinned.

"Not yet, no. I think my threat of telling everyone about her as a hooker worked." Vivian looked far too pleased with herself for that one.

"How would that even work? McPeck would make everyone think of Gail and Andy," mused Holly. "Pecgann sounds horrible. Jamian? Vive? Wait, Jamie, what's your middle name."

"Don't have one," admitted Jamie.

Holly eyed Vivian. "Really?"

"Her first name is Jamie Lynn, two words. No hyphen." When Jamie slapped her arm, Vivian complained. "I can't lie to Holly!"

Gail huffed. "I don't like the implication there, junior."

Vivian flipped her mother off. "Just go make out, Moms. The dessert'll be out soon and we can all bail."

"I want another one of those spicy things," said Jamie, tugging Vivian's hand. "Come on, Peck. Feed me."

The girls headed back over to the buffet and Gail laughed. "They're adorable."

"They really are." Holly kissed Gail again. "Come on, lets go find someplace to make out until dessert shows up."

"You are singing my song, Stewart. I spy an unmonitored bottle of champagne." Gail got up and laced her fingers through Holly's, headed right to the bar.

Some things never changed.

* * *

The best things in life didn't change.

Gail smiled easily into the dimly lit room, watching Holly hang up her sari carefully. "You get to keep that, right?"

"I do." Holly, clad only in her bra and panties, glanced at Gail. "Why are you still in clothes?"

"I was enjoying the show."

Holly rolled her eyes. "How drunk are you, idiot?"

"Not at all. All I had was that flute." Gail leaned back on the bed. "Are you implying I only ogle you when drunk? Cause that won't hold up in court."

"You're more likely to do it when drunk. Also I'm wondering how far I can go with you tonight." Holly leered just a little bit and then laughed, spoiling her tone.

"Oh baby, you can go all the way with me," replied Gail, smirking.

Holly laughed more. "How do you always make that sound so dirty, Gail Peck?"

"Practice pissing off my parents." She did, however, get up. "Think the kids are still there?"

"Its nine, honey. Probably." Holly tossed her underthings in the basket. "God my calves are sore."

"Need a massage?"

"No, just a hot shower."

"Arright, cause that other thing ain't gonna help sore muscles," Gail said with her best drawl.

Her wife snorted, most unbecomingly. "Don't do that. You sound like Swarek."

"Oh, _ew_!" Gail gagged. "You're disgusting!"

" _I'm_ disgusting? You're doing the imitations!" Holly laughed and went to shower.

Gail wriggled out of her clothes and tossed them in the basket. Holly's duds were the super fancy ones, the ones that needed cleaning on gentle cycles and hand washing. For the boys, John had insisted on wash and wear. Men were idiots, he pointed out. That was true, and it meant Gail could take advantage of it and dump her clothes.

But she didn't want to think about John or any of the boys just then.

No, Gail had a beautiful woman who had married her. A woman with dusky, Spanish skin and luxurious brown hair, and eyes... Everyone always said that eyes were the window to the soul. Well. Andy said that. Gail remembered the conversation. Traci said it was boobs. Gail liked lips. At least until she'd started dating Holly.

Dating women, dating Holly taught her that Gail loved so much about the female form. The curves, the breasts, the lips, the ass... and yes, stupid McGirl Guide, the eyes. Brown eyes were beautiful in a surprising way. They were warm and soothing and welcoming. God how she loved those eyes.

It wasn't the soul Gail saw in those brown eyes. No, it was everything. The universe. It lived in Holly's eyes and smile and laugh. Her eyes were the window to the meaning of it all. The first time Gail had really looked into them had been the bathroom following the hair massacre. But before that, Gail remembered looking at Holly in the interrogation room.

That day, Holly had dragged her into a room, glared at her until Gail explained what had happened, and had been babbling when it all clicked. Gail had _already_ been dating Holly all this time. Gail had _already_ fallen for the woman. Holly was _already_ the most important person in her world, and Gail had no idea how that was supposed to feel.

For the first time, someone not only worried about her, but they told her. They showed her. And all the fuck ups after, even then, Holly chose Gail. Gail was her first choice.

"You coming in, goofball?" Holly held the shower door open.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking about how much I love you."

Holly's jovial expression softened. "Gail," she whispered.

Gail smiled and leaned in to kiss Holly. "I love your smile. And your eyes. And your heart." Her wife grinned, the eyes closed. "And your lips and ass. And boobs. Oh my god, your boobs."

The brown eyes squinted at her. "My ass and my boobs," Holly said, deadpan.

"Yeah. So, so wonderful, Holly." Gail gestured in the air, making a curvy shape. "The way they ... mmmm."

Holly's beautiful brown eyes narrowed just a little. "Seriously? You're ruining your romantic moment with talking about my ass?"

"Tits _and_ ass, thank you," corrected Gail. "I never realized how amazing they were, in general, until I was touching yours. Talk about a religious experience."

Her wife grimaced and gently shoved Gail out of the way. "Go shower, you asshole. I'm going to bed."

Maybe when she was Vivian's age, Gail might have worried that Holly was actually annoyed with her. But today, now, with decades of jokes and humor under their belt, Gail knew that when she got out of the shower and back to the bed, Holly would be waiting for her. Maybe in a robe, maybe not, but definitely there, watching the bathroom door, waiting for her wife to come to bed. To come to Holly.

And Gail would. Gail always would.

The best things in life didn't change much. If a person had love, had family, had home, then they could survive anything. And Gail had all those things. And she wanted the heart of those things, her wonderful wife, to know it.

So Gail took the time to shave her legs, trim her toenails, buff her fingernails, and primp and preen just a little. To show Holly that Gail love her. To show Holly that she deserved love, beauty, and everything else.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad," murmured Jamie, somewhat draped over Vivian, breathing noticeably hard.

Jamie's skin was a little sticky with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead. The sheets were an absolute mess, the comforter was half on the ground, and Vivian really felt like her girlfriend had made the biggest understatement of the century.

"Uh, that was awesome." Vivian corrected, reaching up to brush Jamie's hair back. "We should _totally_ do that again." Her muscles ached in that most delicious of ways, after all.

Her girlfriend slapped her arm lightly. "I meant the wedding."

"Oh, okay, yeah that was okay."

"The sex was awesome, though." Jamie grinned and pushed herself up a little. "Really awesome." She leaned her head in and kissed Vivian slowly before lying back down on her. " _Really_ awesome."

"You said that already." Tucking her hands under her head, Vivian smiled up at the ceiling.

It had been really awesome. Their clothes were scattered around a little, and Vivian again remembered with chagrin the teasing she'd given her moms about being all hot to trot after going out. But god, it was so, so true. There was just something about going out on a fancy dress date that made one appreciative of one's partner. And letting Matty fit them for the event? Killer move. They'd both looked amazing.

Of course, Jamie looked amazing in and out of clothes. More amazing out of them. She was a girl made of muscle and tone. Not in the sharp, angular way, but the powerful, rippling way. Vivian absolutely reveled in those strong arms and legs. The hands. The way they all worked together. The way Jamie could hold her on that edge of everything and then...

Vivian grinned. Smugness may not be endearing, and the cockiness could be annoying, but damn, sex was good. Sex with Jamie was great. Still more aggressive than Vivian had known she liked, but oh yes, she liked it very much. It was a strange sort of safe sensation, at odds with the brashness and unapologetically feisty way Jamie was in bed. Brash. She knew what she wanted, she went for it, and damn she was good at it.

Jamie didn't say anything for a while. Instead she just lay there with her head on Vivian's chest. Finally she asked, her voice already belying her sleepiness, "Is this okay?"

"You on me? Yeah. Yeah, this is okay." Vivian freed one arm and carefully draped it over Jamie's waist. "I like this."

It had been a slow progression, but Vivian did like cuddling. Kind of. She liked it after sex quite a bit. There was something about the lingering connection between them that Vivian was loathe to give up quickly. Feeling Jamie's skin on hers was glorious. It was smooth and she had those amazing muscles. God, those muscles.

The muscles moved a little across Vivian then. "Why don't you like weddings?" Jamie's fingers were carefully taking measure of Vivian's collar bone and shoulder.

"Too many people." Vivian closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation of being touched like that. It was still new to her. The in bed touching that was and wasn't sexual.

"That makes sense," agreed Jamie. And then. "Not to send you up a tree, Viv. But. Um. Do you ever think about it?"

Huh. Vivian blinked a few times and squinted down at the dark head on her chest. "About marriage?"

Jamie nodded a little. "Yeah."

"Uh." Vivian frowned. "Not really. I mean... I ... " She paused. Was this a trap? Like being asked if pants made someone's butt look big. Was it a question with only one right answer and Vivian couldn't see it? Vivian felt her heart rate pick up.

Her girlfriend reached up and touched Vivian's chin. "Hey. Come back." She was so soothing, Jamie was. "This is _not_ a leading question like I think we should get married. I was just thinking about it, since all those old ladies asked."

Vivian took a deep breath, willing herself to calm a little. "Kinda surprised me."

Jamie sighed. "Sorry." She squeezed Vivian and then started to move away.

Because Vivian always wanted a little space to talk about things.

But she didn't. Vivian tightened her arm around Jamie's waist for a second, halting her girlfriend's movement. "Do you?"

Hesitating a moment, Jamie finally replied, "No. Not really. Not often."

So they were kind of on the same page. "Kids?" Vivian felt Jamie's scowl. For similar, but totally different reasons, Jamie too feared the ticking time bombs of her genetics. They'd talked around it before, half joking, mostly about the number of children. "I always figured I'd adopt," she said slowly.

And Jamie relaxed. "That. Yeah. That wouldn't suck."

"No, it wouldn't."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Their breathing evened out and fell into sync. Things slowly slid near that comfortable, calming haze. The weight of the world around them faded, and it was just two women. In bed. Breathing.

"Hey," said Jamie softly. "I'm falling asleep."

"That's okay," Vivian said sincerely. She stroked Jamie's spine softly and got a happy sigh in response.

As Vivian continued to caress her, Jamie's body relaxed more and lost the tenseness of being awake. It became heavier and nearly liquid, languidly spreading her weight across Vivian.

"When I wake up," mumbled Jamie, her words slurring together. "We can do that again."

"Okay," repeated Vivian. "Go to sleep, Jamie."

Jamie made a noise and in short order was breathing deeply, slowly, and steadily.

Given enough time, nearly no time at all, Jamie would ooze off, roll away and snuggle up with her pillow on the other side of the bed. She always did that. Sometimes when Vivian woke up at night, Jamie was leaning up against her, almost cuddling but not really. But always, at the start, Jamie would give her space.

More than once, she'd tried to explain the whole haze thing, where having people up in her personal space was okay. It was a feeling like the weight of the world settled on just the two of them, and everything was fine. The feeling was rare and still novel, usually found in the glorious half asleep state before alarms went off and life moved at its usual hectic pace.

Instead, though, Vivian usually felt smothered. Trapped. Even blankets felt like they were trapping her sometimes. And as much as Jamie teased her about hating sleeves, the real truth was that once Vivian had matured and built muscle mass, sleeves were too tight much of the time.

As usual, as soon as Jamie fell into the deeper throes of sleep, she slid away from Vivian. And maybe that was why Vivian didn't mind it so much. Unconsciously, Jamie knew Vivian needed the physical space, and that it didn't mean there wasn't emotional nearness or closeness. It's that the two were not, for Vivian at least, synonymous.

Once freed, Vivian carefully pulled the comforter up and shifted around until she had her feet sticking out into the cool air. Cold air. It was nearly Christmas. Their second together. Huh. They should probably do something. The McGanns didn't do much for Christmas, but Vivian felt like she ought to send them something.

Vivian pulled her pillow in, hugging it and looked at her sleeping girlfriend, pondering what would be an alright present for her girlfriend's parents. Instead, she got distracted by how her girlfriend looked, naked, in her— _their_ sheets. Jamie's hair had already grown back, nearly to the chin. Meanwhile, Vivian had succumbed to familial pressure and gotten hers cut shorter again. And thinned out. It was pretty much a necessity for hair as thick as hers.

Long or short, Jamie knew how to wear her hair well. Or perhaps she was just, like Gail, naturally prone to good hair. Holly had looked uncomfortable and unhappy when her hair was chin length. That might have been due to the circumstances of course. No one really liked having their own hair on fire.

Beside her, Jamie sighed and smiled in her sleep. The sheet was pulled up right to her front, the quilt from Lily draped over both of them. It was a good day. A good feeling. A nice conclusion to everything.

Vivian closed her eyes and smiled.

* * *

"Hey boss, how was the wedding?"

Holly narrowed her eyes at the woman sitting on her office sofa, surprising her. "Wanda, not that you aren't one of my favorites, but why are you in my office already?"

"That bad?"

"Wanda." Holly put her bag down and hung up her coat.

Her erstwhile medical examiner stared at her own hands. "I got a job offer. In San Francisco."

It took all of Holly's self control not to burst out with a laugh then and there. Of course Wanda couldn't know the sordid story of Holly's experience with those things. No, instead this was just a cherished employee looking to her boss and mentor about the possibility of a different future. It was just damned funny to Holly. Especially because she'd sat in the same position, in the same office in fact, to talk to her boss about the same decision. Only she was heartbroken at the time.

"Okay." She closed her office door and fought the smile off her face. "Dr. Archer has a phenomenal lab."

Wanda looked up, startled. "How did you know?"

"They offered me his predecessor's job. A million years ago. We keep in touch." Instead of sitting at her desk, Holly sat beside Wanda on the couch. "You're not too old for this, if you want it."

The other woman looked glum. "I know. But the lab's already going through so much. A new Medical Director. A new Assistant Chief. You stepping down from the province—" Wanda cut herself off.

"Oh that's not a secret, Wanda. I'll be done with that by summer."

Wanda exhaled, nervously. "It just wasn't public."

"I'm waiting for Rodney to sign the last papers. We start turnover in February. Poor boy. He thinks the summer will be enough time to settle in before school starts." Gail had grinned maliciously when the plan was explained. Of course, Gail did most things maliciously. Or at least seemingly so. "And the lab will survive your departure, Wanda. This is something bigger than ourselves. The surest sign we've done our jobs well is the fact that they endure without us."

Her friend looked uncertain. "Why didn't you take the job?"

"Oh my." Holly leaned back and looked over towards Fifteen. "Well. A bizarre set of circumstances. I actually _did_ take the job, but there was an issue with my Visa. I ended up stuck here." She shrugged. "All told, I don't regret the way it all played out, but I did at the time."

"You mean Gail?"

"All of it. I don't know that I would have found quite the success that I did here, career wise." Holly shrugged. "I am the youngest chief ME of the city and province, ever, so I can't really be upset. Maybe I would have written more stunning papers, been able to present sooner. But ... I ran my race on both legs, Wanda. I'm still running it now. The maybes are just that. Maybes."

The younger doctor sighed loudly. "It's easier from the other end."

"You're rather at a middle," offered Holly.

"What would you do?"

"Hm. That depends. If you stay here, you've reached your self-defined pinnacle. You don't want management, so this is the position you will remain in until you leave, or someone shoots you for flirting." They both grinned. "But. Is that bad? It gives you a lot of freedom to experiment and write and certainly if it's more lab work, or innovation, we can work out a way for you to work with some local lab to create new things. Like the spider silk screws? There's room for both."

Wanda leaned back on the couch. "You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do that for anyone here, Wanda. It's about what you want."

Biting her lip, Wanda asked a different question. "How do you have it all?"

Ah. That. "You don't." Holly shook her head. "Everything has a cost, a price to pay. A trade off. I'm reasonably famous, well respected, and I've done almost everything I wanted to in life. I have one child. I could have had more. But I wanted my career." Also Vivian would have done poorly with siblings, given her fears, but that didn't matter to this conversation. "I made choices. I don't regret any of them at this point, which is basically the definition of happiness, I suppose."

"No regrets huh."

"Maybe the drunk dialing of an ex here and there."

Wanda laughed. "God. That _always_ works out well."

"You're one up on me," offered Holly. "I sat there, y'know. Trying to make the same choice."

That sobered Wanda a little. "Why did you pick the other job?"

"Oh. Remember I was ten years younger than you are, Wanda." Holly sighed. "A lot of reasons. Money. Fear. Getting away from a broken heart."

"You weren't dating Gail?" Wanda looked perplexed. "Sorry, I have this mental image that you two were always..."

"We were inevitable, I think. But no, we had broken up at the time."

"Hence the broken heart."

"Hence the broken heart." Holly nodded. "I think, if Gail and I had been together, my decision would have been vastly different. But maybe not. It's those maybes again, you know." When Wanda just nodded, Holly asked. "How much did they offer you?"

"Not that much more."

So it was the work. Interesting. "Which lab?"

"Archer's, but the head of the R&D for image scanning."

"You'd _hate_ being a head," Holly said sincerely.

Wanda smiled sadly. "I would."

"I think, Dr. Ury, that's your answer. You need to work for a think tank."

"Hah. Can you do that here, Dr. Stewart?"

Holly tapped her lower lip. "No." She didn't have that much power. But... "When did you get all hyped on image scanning?"

"The head bashers. When you were reconstructing the bones, I was thinking we needed something better than exhumation. What if we had better ground penetrating scanners?"

"God knows the army would love that too." Oh. The universe was an amazing place. Holly realized that the possibilities were endless and the threads that connected them all were intricate. "Wanda. Do you know what Col. Mills works on?"

Wanda looked blank. "Mills?"

"He's one of the heads of R&D for the military. And his daughter was a victim of the head basher case." Holly smiled. "I suspect a joint effort of our labs, improving ground penetrating radar, would be right up his alley. And the courts would love it, since exhumation orders are such a nightmare. God and the CDC..." Holly got up and opened her door. "Ruth, great. Come here. I need you to help Wanda write a proposal."

Her secretary looked perplexed but came in, tablet in hand. "For what?"

"A joint effort of our lab, the military, the CDC, and the Mounties. To improve image scanning, retrieval, and processing."

Wanda raised a hand. "Uh. So I'm _not_ taking the job?"

"You tell me, Wanda. Can Archer offer you something better than a chance to change the world?"

As Wanda bit her lip, Holly knew the answer.

Dr. Wanda Ury would be sticking around for a while to come. And she would be infamous before the decade was over, if Holly had anything to say about it.

* * *

Vivian pulled on her uniform shirt and frowned. "I feel so weird in blue now."

"I miss having your locker right here." Lara sat down on the bench beside Vivian's new locker. "You, me, Jenny, all in a row. Now we have no one between us and I'm terrified we'll get some weird rookies."

"Oh, no doubt we will eventually." Vivian grinned and buttoned her shirt up. "When do you get out of your uniform?"

"She asks as she gets back into hers."

Vivian flipped Lara off. "It's a different reason. This is my normal uniform. You, however, are supposed to be putting on a suit."

"Soon. Any day now, I get a gold badge and a suit. Plus your mom likes me."

That was true. Gail had found Lara to be 'not stupid' after the bomb at Safary's and tapped her for a minor homicide case. A simple case of a John Doe found dead in a walk in freezer. Within a week, Lara had a confession and video evidence. "You're not bad, but don't get a swelled head."

"Yeah I heard this scary thing about your mom."

"Just one?"

Lara kicked her leg. "Zettle said that Peck— Inspector Peck felt the best reward for a job well done is another job."

Rubbing her shin, Vivian nodded. "True. She got that from Holly's dad, though."

"I haven't had a second job yet."

"You will. It's winter. Homicides should start piling up."

"Well. That's fucking cheerful. Did you guys sit around the dinner table, talking about what crimes were more prevalent when and where?"

Vivian kicked her locker closed and settled her belt. "Only when we went to Elaine's." Early on, Holly had kiboshed shop talk at dinner. Even after all three of them were working, the only times they'd talked work was when celebrating a win.

That meant when Vivian got her props for defusing the bomb, the family dinner had involved more details than were publicly known. Jamie had been rather shocked to find the cavalier way they discussed crime and the drama of the world.

"I can see that." Lara hopped up and pointed at the box. "Was McNally serious about the donuts?"

"Not sure," admitted Vivian, picking up the box. "But I'm not taking chances. She'd just harass me at Mom's birthday."

"Uh, wasn't that last month?"

"I have two moms, moron."

They laughed as they walked into the hall.

"Hey! My bestie!" Rich threw his arms up as if to hug her.

"Do it and lose 'em, Richard," warned Vivian.

"You're no fun." He pouted. "I barely see you anymore. It's lonely without my favorite ice princess around."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "That love only goes one way, Rich."

"She's no fun," Rich said to Lara. "Is the whole living with her boo sitch not working out?" Then he turned to Vivian. "How goes cohabitation?"

"Fine," demurred Vivian. Both Lara and Rich shared a look. "Oh come on." Vivian walked into Parade and put the donuts down on the podium. "I am not blabbing to either of you about my personal life."

Lara snorted and took a seat in back. "You will blab to me, sooner or later. Oh! Later! Penny?"

"Sure." Vivian took a seat by Lara.

"And your girl?"

"Working." Vivian eyed the donut box. She really wanted a donut.

Before the others could get into ragging on her, Andy strode in with Gail beside her. "Excellent! My punctual Peck actually does what she's told. Why don't you?"

"I don't work for you," said Gail, going to the box of donuts. "Seriously? You bought six old fashioned?"

"And six regular," Vivian complained. "Picky picky."

The assorted police officers laughed.

"Alright, settle down, folks. Winter break has _finally_ started," announced Andy. "Not so busy for our wall climbing friends, so we get them gracing our presence off and on while they fill out their court cases."

Vivian only half listened to Andy detail out the rest of the day's notes. It didn't really matter to her. She was just here to do paperwork on a court case, review other cases with other departments, and generally it was a lazy day for her. Definitely when compared to her normal work.

And no one wanted the old fashioned donuts, which meant she had her favorite to herself while pushing paper.

It was nice. A change. A dip back into the old normal. A day without surprises or shocks.

What was surprising was how boring the Penny was. Vivian had worked weird hours for so long, and not been able to drink while on call anyway, that she wasn't used to the way they all were. She was out of step with the norm. That was, actually, pretty normal for her.

"Okay, this is back to rookie Vivian," announced Jenny as she sat at the table. "You are all up in your head."

Vivian snorted and sipped her beer. "I like it up in my head," she pointed out.

"Does Jamie?"

Unbidden, Vivian blushed. "Yes, she does."

Lara cackled and threw her arms around Vivian. "You're so cute. You totally like her."

"Please stop hugging me." It really wasn't comfortable, and it was hard to explain to people why. Normally Lara didn't, but she was just tipsy enough to be cuddly and to forget that Vivian had not-normal human boundaries.

Jenny, far less drunk, pulled Lara off. "Okay, lush. You're just happy you're doing well as a suitless D."

"I'm happy one of us is getting laid on the regular. Besides Rich." There was a collective pause as they all winced at that image. But then Lara leaned in to Vivian. "You are getting laid, right?"

Vivian pushed Lara's head away. "Yes, yes I am. Jenny, can you take her home? She'd fall off my bike."

"Yeah, I got her." Jenny smirked. "Help me roll her to the car?"

Really, Vivian could have carried Lara on her own, but she did help dump the drunk baby detective into the back of Jenny's car. "What happened with her latest boy?" Vivian only had a half awareness of the guy Lara had been seeing over summer and autumn. Then again, her year had been pretty fucked up.

"Uriah? They broke up over politics. He's a hard core hippie."

"Ouch. That can be awkward if you can't work it out."

"Can? This sounds like the voice of experience. Is Jamie a communist?"

Vivian laughed. "No, but Holly's practically a socialist."

The words sorted themselves out in Jenny's head. "Wait, you mean _Gail's_ a right winger?"

Admittedly, the realization that her impish, blonde mother was quite a bit more right than left had surprised Vivian at nineteen. But now, in her mid-twenties, it made sense. Gail came from a privileged background. She grew up well off, with a lot more freedom than most, but also well aware of the dangers of her world. Gail saw death. She heard final calls. She knew the prices paid for freedom.

That did make Gail far more fiscally and politically conservative than Holly. Gail grumbled about protests for lives that mattered, arguing that of course they did. She had the ability, thank god, to look at the situation frankly enough and to understand that people hated her job. And she knew why they hated it.

"She's a cop," said Vivian, repeating the words Holly had used when Vivian expressed her own shock. "Mom's umpteenth generation Peck."

"Man, that's just weird. Okay. Lara, no puking."

"Copy," mumbled Lara, her head lolling a little.

"Good luck. See you guys tomorrow."

"Nah, we're off. Enjoy Goff and Todorkoi tomorrow." Jenny waved and hopped in her car to drive off.

How weird. Vivian wasn't sure she liked working such a disparate shift. When she didn't have the hectic work of ETF's physical aspects to distract her, it felt... well it felt lonely.

"You miss your friends," Jamie told her over the phone.

"They're not my friends."

"Hah, you are not Gail, my little Peck."

Vivian scrunched her face up. "You get that I'm almost four inches taller than my moms, right?"

"What I mean is Gail is defensive and walled off because ... Well I don't know why. But she's defensive. You're protective. Different. You're not Gail." Jamie yawned.

And Vivian felt guilty. "Sorry. You need to sleep."

"18 more hours of shift. Then I'll see you tomorrow night."

She could hear the smile on Jamie's voice and found herself smiling back. "Yeah. What do you want for dinner?"

"Oooooh, you're gonna cook?"

"Not if you're going to be all girly about it."

Jamie laughed. "High protein. Night, Viv."

"Night, Jamie." There was an awkward pause before they hung up and Vivian grimaced.

When was it right to swap ILUs? She could ask around, but that felt like cheating somehow. If she asked Matty, he'd hoot and tell Jamie. Gail would make a sneer face, and point out she had no idea. Holly... Vivian tapped on her leg.

Holly had been amazing, helping Vivian work through a lot of emotions. A lot of feelings. It was Holly whom Vivian turned to when she was terrified about Jamie's injuries the year before. And it was Holly who helped Vivian understand that stomach churning, nauseating fear. How to handle it.

This was too much to ask her moms. It wasn't appropriate to ask her therapist. Was it? The ultimate question was simple. Did she _love_ Jamie?

She liked her. A lot. Vivian loved things about her. She adored the sleepy morning smile. The way Jamie looked at her gave her tingles. That broad grin and the bright eyes and the laugh... yes, Vivian loved all those things. But did they translate into love love? She had no idea.

Vivian's phone lit up, flashing a new text.

_Go to bed, moron._

She smiled. Jamie just knew when she was getting all up in her head. And she knew how to get her back out.

_You too, hose monkey._

_Oh you are NEVER getting laid again, Peck._

Vivian laughed. It wasn't true and they both knew it. But it was something to laugh over.

* * *

It had taken six pitches, but Holly finally hit the target. "Hah! Suck it, Peck. I win."

"I believe I get last ups," said Gail, highly amused. She shouldered her bat and took stand at the base.

"Oooooh look at you, all fancy using sports terms." Holly teased her wife and grinned. It was true that Gail was currently winning their little side bet, though. For the first time in years, Gail was actually hitting better than Holly at the batting cages.

She watched the blonde take a careful, studied stance. "Whatever, Lunchbox. Press the button."

Holly saluted and turned the machine back on. She never tired of admiring Gail's form, and over the years Gail's batting form had improved a great deal. Generally, Holly was still the better player, but in pure batting competitions Gail tended to do much better than Holly did. She was the current champion of the home run derby for women in the police force.

That wouldn't last long, probably. Gail had no interest in a repeat win and had been slacking off since summer. But tonight. Tonight she seemed to have a bit of an interest in kicking ass. At least Holly's ass.

Of all things, Gail was quite competitive. And when she was doing a solo sport, which batting was, Gail excelled. All she'd had to learn was the basics of the sport and what success meant. The fact that it had taken Gail that long was mostly due to her being lazy. She just didn't care enough to exert herself about things that didn't really matter and, to her point of view, baseball hardly mattered.

And yet. Gail had cheerfully accepted Holly's suggestion that they see who could hit the home run sign the most times in three rounds. Winner picked dinner. The coin toss gave Holly first ups, which at first she thought was good. First up, she pounded out three home runs, which Holly had hoped would demoralize her wife.

That didn't happen at all.

Gail took her first set and matched Holly, run for run. She even made it look easy, like she'd been practicing it for ages. And in a way, she had. The second round went the same way. Holly hit two home runs and so did Gail. And here, their third, Holly had only managed one. It was probably her nerves.

Casually, Gail swung at the first pitch and sent it flying a foot lower than the target. She reset herself and swung on the second pitch. All those years of yoga paid off in making her so, so fluid.

"Ooooh, too low," teased Holly, looking at Gail's butt.

"Stop ogling me, Stewart," said Gail. "I'm not losing." And she hit the third pitch.

From the sound alone, Holly knew it was a tie. The ball flew and the sign clanged. "That's just a tie. We can keep going."

"I have two more balls," Gail warned. She took her stance again and, when the fourth ball came, hit it. She hit it perfectly. She hit it solidly.

"Damn it," muttered Holly.

Gail grinned and, as if to show off, hit the last pitch well. A third run. A resounding win. "Regretting teaching me to hit?" She leaned on her bat and beamed.

"Just the bet." Holly rolled her eyes. "Fine. You can pick dinner."

The blonde laughed. "I want to go home. I don't feel like eating out tonight."

Holly blinked. "Seriously? You're trading a win for a player to be named later?"

"No, I'm trading my dinner out tonight for dinner, the ballet, and oral sex," said Gail flippantly.

Even now, even after decades, Holly was caught by surprise with Gail's attitude towards things. "Wow. Okay, then I get to pick dinner tonight?"

"Nope! We're having chicken with rice and vegetables. I'll cook."

"Oh, you really want me to go to the ballet, huh?" It was no secret, Holly still didn't love the ballet. Yes, it was dancing, but it was boring dancing.

Gail paused as she put the bat and helmet away. "No. I really want the sex."

Holly laughed and followed her wife out the cages and to home.

* * *

"Check the temperature," instructed Gail, and she took another swing of her beer.

Her sous chef bit her lip and carefully stuck the meat thermometer in. "How do I know when it's done checking?"

"Same as a human thermometer. It beeps."

"I don't know about what crazy ass shit you get up to, Gail, but I don't jam a thermometer in my skin."

Gail grinned. "Don't touch the bone with it. If you feel the bone, pull it back a little."

Her assistant nodded and waited. "73."

"C or F?"

"C."

"Perfect. Put the pan on the stove so it can cool a little. We want it to rest."

The woman nodded. "Wait. Why?"

"So you don't burn yourself, for one. But also to retain the juices. Makes it taste better. Put the tinfoil hat back on, loosely, and we'll give it ten minutes. Get the veggies out of the oven." Gail paused. "Hey, Monkey. Set the table."

Vivian popped her head in the kitchen. "Oh, now you want me?" The girl smirked and bounced over, kissing her girlfriend's cheek. "Hanging in there?"

"Pork roast, roasted vegetables, potatoes. It _smells_ okay," replied Jamie, nervously.

"It smells great." Vivian reached for a potato.

"Hey!" Gail smacked her daughter's arm. "Out! Set the table!"

Graced with longer limbs, Vivian successfully stole a potato and impishly grinned. "Soooo good."

"Get out!"

But they were all laughing, even Holly. "Is it safe to come in yet?"

"No," snarled Gail. "Wine."

"For pork?" Holly looked thoughtful. "And you're already having beer. Alright." She smiled and headed over to the wine collection.

"Oh come on. No kiss?" Gail growled. "Jamie got a kiss."

"Jamie is adorable and has to put up with you," said Holly, but as she came back with a bottle of Pinot, she paused to kiss Gail. "Having fun?"

"I was until the great potato thief showed up." Gail smiled and put her beer down to wrap her hands on Holly's waist and tug her in. "Hey."

"Mmm. Hey." Holly's smiled turned soft and tender. Her lips quirked and she leaned in again for another kiss, this time her nose bumping Gail's.

"Oh my god," muttered Jamie. "They really are always like this."

"Pretty much." Vivian sounded nonplussed. "You can serve the veggies and potatoes in their cookware."

"This shit is the bomb. How come you don't have it?"

Vivian laughed. "La Creuset? Because it's about $600 for that roast oven alone."

Gail looked over Holly's shoulder and saw Jamie's horrified face. "Oh, yeah, it's expensive, but it's worth it. The cast iron pans you guys have were Holly's."

Leaning into Gail, resting her head in the crook of Gail's neck, Holly made a contented noise. "Most of Viv's cookware was mine. Gail lived with icky boys."

There was a clatter as Vivian set the table. "They used me moving out as an excuse to buy new things."

"Wait..." Jamie frowned. "If the cookware we have was Holly's, how come Gail's the cook?"

"I can cook," said Holly, petulantly. "Gail's just gotten better."

"I took a cooking class." Gail took the wine bottle from her wife and held it out, keeping her other arm around Holly's waist. "Monkey."

Vivian came over and took the bottle. "Was that because I wanted to make fajitas?"

"It was because we actually made 'em pretty fucking awesome," admitted Gail. Both arms free, she held Holly close and smiled. "Cooking started as one of my coping mechanisms." Holly stiffened a little, and Vivian looked doubtful. "I told your girlfriend I got kidnapped by a serial killer, Viv."

The younger officer sighed. "Mom." She put a lot into the word. Vivian was trying to express that Gail didn't need to do those things for Vivian's sake.

And they had not been that. At least not how she was probably thinking. "We have dangerous jobs, Viv," said Gail gently. "I took risks to try and be what was expected of me. You ... sweetheart, you know I love you. You take risks because you like the calm that comes with your adrenaline rush." Gail glanced at Jamie. "Jamie needed to know that this shit happens here too, but we're not alone."

By the stove, Jamie looked uncertain but didn't say anything. Vivian put the wine on the table and crossed back to gently touch Jamie's arm. "Don't worry. Gail won't try to psychoanalyze you. Holly might, but she's actually been to med school."

The soft humor deflection helped. Even Holly laughed a little. "It's true, Jamie. I'm actually a doctor." She turned around, still leaning against Gail but now facing the kids. "So. Sous chef. How'd your first lesson in cooking grownup food go?"

Jamie grinned. "Well I won't be on _Worst Cooks in Canada_ , I think."

"Not if the potatoes are an indicator," said Vivian, agreeing. "Come on, I'll pop the wine and let's stuff ourselves."

On cue, the timer went off and Jamie jumped. "Right!" Gail laughed and kissed Holly's shoulder. "Time for me to teach the kid to handle the meat." Gently nudging Holly away, Gail picked knife from the block. "You _have_ dated men before, right, Jamie?"

"Oh my god, Mom, stop." Vivian laughed and grabbed a corkscrew. "Jamie, if she gets to be too much, you can ignore her. Everyone does."

"You hush, or I tell her about the time you used the blender with the top off."

Vivian's eyes drifted to the ceiling. "We got the stains out," she muttered, and went to the dining table while Jamie giggled.

* * *

"Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Vivian froze with her fork half-raised. What the hell was it with Gail and Elaine that they loved asking those questions while she was eating. "Uh. No. Not really."

Her grandmother huffed a little. "Really? Even Gail had a couple fantasy moments about marriage. I recall she married her best friend in school, actually."

That was a new story. Vivian grinned. "Really? Mom did?"

"Under the jungle gym. She was five."

"Wait, five's pre-school."

"Gail was precocious," said Elaine, simply, and she shrugged a little. "Eat your fish."

Vivian sighed and took a bite. The fish was incredibly good. Ever since Elaine's heart attack and Lily's death, they'd all been taking time to hang out a little more. It was obvious why, and they all knew it, but it was still a nice thing to do. Other than running a background check on Jamie, Elaine was pretty cool.

Then Vivian asked, "Was Steve? Precocious?"

"Oh god, no. He was held back a grade after he threw a rock at… Thad— No, Bradford. Bradford Roman."

Vivian chuckled. "Oh, Steve."

Elaine studied Vivian for a moment. "How are things... with Jamie?"

"That sounded ominous," muttered Vivian. "We are ... good. Really good actually. I mean, sorting out the whole closet shit was a pain in my ass, and the bathroom, but we worked it out."

"You know, you and your mother are the only Pecks to move in before marriage."

Vivian did a double take. "What? I thought Steve and Traci..."

"Steve kept his own apartment. Functionally I suppose it's no different, though." Elaine took a bite of her salad. "But it's alright?"

She regarded her grandmother. Never in Vivian's life had Elaine asked a question without layers and purpose behind it. The Peck Matron wasn't like that. She always asked with intent and thoughtfulness and meaning. "Gordo'd say yes. Or if he doesn't, dump his ass."

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Oh good lord, you and your mother. Can't I be interested in my granddaughter's life?"

"You're an onion, Elaine," teased Vivian. "You've got layers and meanings and thoughts."

"Is that so?" Elaine smiled a little though. "I'm seriously just asking if you and your live-in girlfriend are doing okay, sweetheart. I worry about you."

That startled her. "Me?"

And her reply apparently startled Elaine. "Yes, you. Of course. You're my granddaughter. I only have the one, and you're my family. Of course I worry about you."

"No offense, but that's creepy."

Elaine had never really expressed too much interest into that part of Vivian's life. Other than the veiled threat to set Vivian up on dates, Elaine was exceptionally hands off. Asking about marriage and how things were with Jamie was a little disturbing. Why did it come up? What did Elaine expect.

And no, damn it, Vivian _hadn't_ fantasized about marriage or a wedding. Before being adopted, she couldn't remember thinking of it at all, which didn't mean much. She didn't remember a whole lot of those early days. After... After she had Gail and Holly and they were just married. It was what it was.

The idea of marriage now seemed odd. People like McNally rushed into marriage. When teenaged Vivian had asked Nick why he didn't marry Andy, the man had explained they'd both had bad near-marriage experiences, and were happy just being together. A few years later, when she learned it was a bad nearly marriage to _Gail_ , Vivian felt she better understood Nick's trepidation.

But she had to ask Andy herself about the other. To her surprise, Andy freely told her about the accidental engagement to Luke Callaghan. She told Vivian the whole story, about how she'd found the ring and Luke had never meant to propose, and then he'd cheated on her with Jo Rosati.

Both were now dead.

Vivian remembered Jo. She'd married some boring salary man and had a son. Luke, though, Luke had died protecting Holly. He'd never married, never had kids, and according to Gail, there had been some oddly traumatic event in his past, causing a sealed record. Vivian's theory was that he'd killed some biological parent, but she kept it to herself. No doubt her own family would try to psychoanalyze her for saying it.

When Vivian related the peculiar luncheon event to Gail the next day, her mother looked oddly concerned. Just not about what Vivian thought she'd be worried about. "Steve threw a rock at Roger Brady," said Gail, and she stared at Vivian. "Are you sure she said Bradford Roman?"

Vivian nodded. "Absolutely. She said Thad, and then corrected herself... why?"

Gail looked at the picture of Elaine on her office wall. " _Bradly_ Roman was Steve's best friend in high school. He's a lawyer now, but he and Steve used to hang out all the fucking time. Mom knows that."

It was the implication of the word that was, abruptly, worrying. "Wait. So Elaine goofed up a name. So? Everyone does that!"

"Mom doesn't. She just... Not names. She may forget dates and books and TV shows, Viv, but Mom _never_ forgets names, or things that happened to me and Steve. Ever."

"So.. what? You're saying her memory is slipping?"

Grim, Gail nodded. "She forgot why I hate the Archer Hotel."

Vivian felt lost. "I ... I don't know why you hate the Archer, Mom."

Her mother sighed. "That's where I was undercover as a call girl. I never told you that, but..." She gestured to the wall behind her. "Mom read the case file. She knew. And she forgot."

"Are you sure?" The idea of Elaine Peck forgetting little things like the name of a kid Steve chucked a rock at didn't bother her. But Elaine forgetting one of the most traumatic occurrences to ever happen to her daughter? No. Gail had a point.

"She tried to schedule the anniversary party there," said Gail, tightly.

Oh. "Shit..."

Gail sighed again. "Keep this under your hat, okay? Maybe I'm reading too much into this."

"I dunno. You were right about grandpa." Since Lily's death, Brian had needed a lot of looking after and contacting. There were a lot of phone calls. Holly had gone out, alone, for a week to help him move to his new condo.

"Still." Gail closed her eyes. "Marriage, huh?"

"Oh Jesus, not you too!" Vivian threw her hands up.

Gail laughed. It was her happy laugh, too. "Brat. Come on, you're telling me you've never pictured yourself walking down the aisle?"

Giving her mother the finger, Vivian shook her head. "Nope. Never pictured myself living with a girl either, though, so what do I know?"

"God, I hear ya!" The blonde smiled ear to ear. "You haven't dropped the l word yet either, huh?"

Vivian shook her head. "I'm not ..." She didn't want to talk about it at all, but if either of her mothers would understand, it would be Gail. "Okay, I'm not sure I know I do."

Gail nodded sagely. "Well that's okay, kid. You're twenty-six. You're not supposed to know all that shit." She leaned back and put her feet on the desk. "Speaking of. What do you want for your birthday."

God bless Gail for changing the subject. "World Peace?" Her mother grinned. "The cottage. Just for the long weekend."

With a knowing smirk, Gail nodded again. "You know. I was started up there."

Huh? Vivian stared at her mother blankly for a moment, until Gail leered a little and the meaning dawned. "Oh, gross."

"S'true! Seven months later, I was born and Dad was still undercover. They had to pull him out." Gail looked amused. "Funny, isn't it?"

"I guess... Do you miss going under cover?" Vivian knew her mother avoided it now. In fact, the last time was when she was saving the then-Prince.

"Not really, no. I never liked it to begin with." Gail leaned back. "Did you? You're pretty good at it."

"Eh. Not really. It's crazy stressful for a long time and then you betray people."

"That, kid, is a good description of UC work."

The door opened, interrupting their chat. "Boss, I hate to barge in, but we've got a lead on that attempted bank robbery?"

Gail eyed Vivian first, giving her best eye roll. "Is that a question, Nuñez?"

The man blushed. "No, ma'am. We found a supplier. He ID'd our prime suspect."

"Thank you. Is he downstairs?" At Pedro's nod, Gail swung her feet off the desk. "Duty calls. When are you back on call?"

"Tomorrow. I finished my paperwork early."

"Get ahead on the rest. You'll thank me later."

"Hah, fat chance, Inspector." But Vivian grinned at her mother. "Don't let her beat you up, Nuñez."

As Vivian headed back down to the ETF ready room, she smiled. Her mother knew very well how to lighten a heavy mood, and while there was reason to worry about Elaine and Brian, it could be handled one step at a time.

That's all life was. A mixed grab bag of surprises that kept throwing weird shit at everyone, and then the world took a step forward. That was all they could do. Step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how we start our season. No crime. Just some easier fluff for a bit.
> 
> Next chapter? Oh the crime is on!

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to everyone who reads these early. You know who you are.


End file.
